A movie theater in the White House? It was amazing to think about.
When my family came from Poland to the United States, we had no friends. So, what did we do? We went to movies! It was fun, and there was English to learn. You like the way I talk? You can thank the movie stars.
At the movies, I watched and dreamed. But in all my wonderful dreams, I never thought of a movie theater in my own house! That Mr. President is a lucky man.
Mr. Flower showed us around the White House. As I watched him, I thought of my father. Mr. Flower acted strict, but his eyes were soft and warm.
He said, “For recreation, the White House has a variety of facilities. Besides the movie theater, it has a swimming pool and a bowling alley. There is also a tennis court—”
The girl named Dee gasped. “A tennis court? I want one of those!”
“—and a basketball court.”
“All right!” said the boy named José. He spun around and did a motion that looked like dribbling a basketball.
I watched him and said to Dee, “He is a good mover.”
She snorted. “Looks to me like he eats too much sugar at his house.”
“What do you know about my house?” José asked her.
“Nothing.”
He nodded. “That’s right, nothing.”
I wondered what they might say about my house. My family lives in Kansas City, Missouri. It is very different from Poland. My father was a chemist, but now he drives a taxi. My mother was a schoolteacher, and now she washes towels at the Hilton Hotel. There are lots of bathrooms at the Hilton Hotel. I work very hard to make my parents proud and to make my room feel like home. I have a picture of my grandmother. I also have posters of movie stars. But there is no movie theater.
Ms. Letter said, “Now, children, of all the beautiful things in this house, there is one item that’s the most valuable. Do you know what it is?”
We looked at each other. No one knew.
“Answer the teacher!” said Mr. Flower.
Dee raised her hand. “The First Lady’s fancy dresses?”
I said, “Maps?”
José guessed, “The president’s flat-screen TV?”
“Wrong!” said Mr. Flower.
Ms. Letter told us, “Since you can’t guess the most valuable item in the White House, I’ll show it to you. Follow me, children, to the East Room.”
She and Mr. Flower led us into a giant room that had beautiful decorations and a very high ceiling.
“And here we are, in the East Room!” said Ms. Letter. “This room has been used for celebrations and solemn events. But on a daily basis, it holds the most valuable item in the entire house.”
She pointed to a painting that hung on the wall. Mr. Flower warned us, “Look, but don’t touch!”
The painting showed a man in a fancy, old-fashioned uniform. He seemed familiar. José stepped closer and gave a big smile. “Hey, I recognize him. It’s the dude on my one-dollar bill!”
Dee turned up her nose. “I wouldn’t know. The smallest bills I carry are five dollars.”
I had no money. But I did have something else. I reached into my purse and showed it to them. “Here is my Kansas City bus pass!”
Ms. Letter was too excited to notice. “This is the portrait of our founding father, president of the United States, and first commander in chief, George Washington!”
Dee checked the painting. “Wow, he sure looks . . . not hot. Is that a wig?”
I told her, “My book says that he powdered his real hair.”
She sighed. “No offense, but if this picture is the highlight of the tour . . .”
Dee looked at me. I looked at José. All of us said it together. “Bor-ing!”
“So,” said Ms. Letter, “take a minute to connect with this famous painting, General George Washington welcoming us to the house where we all belong.”
Mr. Flower looked at his watch. “You’ve got sixty seconds. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight . . .”
José, Dee, and I walked up close to George Washington. I wondered what it would be like to powder my hair.
José shook his head. “Nothing personal, George, but I don’t belong here.”
“What do you mean?” asked Dee.
“Look around. Do you see any kids?”
“My book says many, many children have lived here,” I told him.
José did one of his moves. “But were the kids anything like me?”
Dee rolled her eyes. “I think very few people on this planet are like you.”
“I’m serious,” said José. “Do you think any of these fancy schmancy presidential kids are for real? They eat off delicate dishes.”
“And fly in helicopters,” said Dee.
I glanced around the room. “And they live here, in this big, fancy house!”
“Kids like us are for real,” said Dee.
“Kids like us have to study hard,” said José.
“Kids like us don’t have it easy,” I said.
The three of us looked at one another. We didn’t say it, but I knew we were all thinking the same thing: We don’t belong here!
Mr. Flower looked at his watch and shouted, “Time’s up! Everyone, this way!”
He and Ms. Letter led the group into the next room, leaving the three of us alone. When I started to follow, I bumped José. He fell against Dee. All of us knocked into the painting.
“Oops,” said José.
Dee hissed, “José, what did you do?”
“Me? It was you!”
The painting lay face-down on the floor.
I said, “Nie wierzyc wlasnym oczom!”
Oh, sorry. Those are Polish words for “I cannot believe this!”
Dee shook her head. “We broke the most valuable thing in the White House. Now none of us will be able to run for office!”
“Or see our families again!” said José.
Dee turned to us. “Please, you guys, help me get it back up.”
Together we reached down, lifted the painting, and leaned it against the wall. When we looked at it, Dee gasped. “Oh, no!”
“The One-Dollar Dude!” exclaimed José.
“O moj Boze!” I said. That means “Oh, my gosh!”
The painting was fine. It had no damage. There was just one problem.
In the picture George Washington was missing!
