“This all makes so much more sense, Audrey.” My mom smiled sadly. “But you know, Alice was living in a very different time.”
“I guess,” I said.
“The press then wasn’t like it is now. There was no media cycle. There was privacy for the First Family in a way that no longer exists. The First Daughter making a political statement was received a lot differently then, and less widely. Alice had the benefit of being a First Daughter in the days before celebrity.”
“She was the first big celebrity,” I added. “Which is cool.”
“Very cool.” My mom pursed her lips, figuring out what she’d speechify next. “You have the power of being in the public eye now, Audrey. And with power comes responsibility, whether you asked for it or not. Now you have a great responsibility to use your visibility wisely and respectfully.”
“Mom,” I interrupted. “You just plagiarized Spider-Man. ‘With great power comes great responsibility’ is a line from the movie.”
“Not the p-word!” my mom exclaimed, laughing. “Please don’t tell on me. Well, I guess you know that lesson already. My bad. That’s what you say, right?”
I suppressed the urge to groan. “Um, yeah. Do not use that in public.”
She smiled. “I’m sorry my career has made this responsibility necessary for you at such a young age. I hope you’ll forgive me for the burdens I know I’ve placed on our family. If I didn’t truly believe that I have a chance to do a whole lot of good in the world as president, I never would have put you in this situation.”
My throat felt tight, so I swallowed hard over the lump and nodded.
“I think we need to have better communication with each other. Let’s start with you telling me how you feel and what help you need from me. I’ll do the same. Dad and I will work on making things easier for you. We can try to give you more access to a ‘normal’ life. But while I want you to let your voice be heard, can we agree that we’ll at least talk about how you’ll use it, first? I promise I’ll give you that freedom, but I need to know beforehand what you’ll be saying.”
“That sounds good,” I said. “I’m sorry if my essay screwed anything up for you.”
“Nothing that can’t be fixed. This will blow over when the next story breaks, and you drew attention to an issue that I care about too. I always wanted to address it during my administration, and now you’ve brought it to the forefront.”
“Did Harrison say anything?”
“He told me I needed to listen to those within the White House a little more closely on that topic. One person in particular. I think he was very touched.” I smiled.
“One more thing,” she said, untucking her feet and reaching to lift the shopping bag. “It’s crazy how this is working out, what with you having Alice Roosevelt’s diary. Serendipity at work.” She pulled an old throw pillow out of the bag, holding it close to her chest. “I noticed in your essay how you mentioned Alice a few times. So as a little peace offering, and to show you that I’m listening now, I asked the museum if we could take something of hers back to the White House while we’re in residence.” She turned around the pillow and held it out to me. Embroidered across the front was: IF YOU CAN’T SAY SOMETHING GOOD ABOUT SOMEONE, SIT RIGHT HERE BY ME. “Alice Roosevelt made this and had it on display in the White House.”
“I know!” I grabbed the pillow and ran my fingertips over the embroidery. “I read about when she decided to make it!” I looked up at my mom, who was grinning. “This is awesome, Mom. Really awesome.”
“I’m glad. Take care of it—it’s a national treasure.”
“Oh, I will.” I gave her a huge hug.
“I’m going to go finish up some work, but you can come and get me whenever you want to eat dinner. Your dad’s on his way home too. We’ll be eating together tonight.”
“Sounds great.” After she left the room, I put the pillow on display in the armchair by my window. I couldn’t stop smiling whenever I looked at it.
Chapter 22
I walked into first-period history the next morning to a standing ovation from my classmates, and it wasn’t sarcastic. “Way to go, Audrey,” Mei said. “That essay was pretty cool.” Our teacher, Ms. Branch, had written across the whiteboard “CIVIL RIGHTS” and “THE 14th AMENDMENT.” The desks were all arranged in a circle, which meant that it was going to be a discussion day.
“Audrey, you’ve given me a great introduction to talking about the Constitution and civil rights. I wasn’t going to start teaching it until the spring, but I want to keep the dialogue you started going. Would you mind sharing a little with the class about why you wrote that piece?”
I blushed, but I wasn’t embarrassed. I didn’t mind having so much attention on me when it was for something I had done. “Sure, I don’t mind.” I put down my bag and started talking.
At lunch, I was about to sit down at my loner/V.I.P. table like usual, but then I saw Stacia looking up at me. She was actually smiling, so I took a deep breath and walked over to her.
“Can I sit here?”
“Sure!” she said. The kids she was sitting with scooted over to make room. As I set down my tray, she said, “I wanted to say thanks. Your essay made my sister so happy. Like, knowing that someone in the White House cared about her rights like that. It was pretty cool you wrote it.”
I grinned. “I’m really happy to hear that.” I liked this—getting attention for being me, not my mom’s daughter.
As I bit into my sandwich, Quint walked into the lunchroom. He scanned the room and his eyes locked on me. I set down my PB and fancy J and turned to Stacia.
“I’ll be right back.” I got up and walked over to Quint. “Hi,” I said. I wanted to tell him that whatever “It’s Complicated” meant, it was cool with me. It would suck if he was complicated with Madeline, but I’d rather be his friend than his nothing.
“Hi,” Quint said. He looked embarrassed. “I need to apologize for something.”
“Good—so do I.” I smiled. “Let’s head outside for a minute.” We stepped out into the empty, freezing courtyard. Thankfully, Hendrix and Simpkins stayed within the double doors. “Me first?” I asked.
“Sure,” he replied.
“I’m sorry I put you in a bad situation by sneaking you into 1600—my house. It wasn’t fair to you. It was selfish of me. I’m sure it sucked to have to meet the president under those circumstances. Even if the president is just my mom.”
“No kidding.” Quint laughed. “But thanks for apologizing.”
“I would’ve apologized sooner if you hadn’t been avoiding me,” I teased. It feels like we’re going to be friends again, at least.
“Yeah, that’s what I was going to say I’m sorry for. It was lame to ignore you like that.”
“Thanks.” I took a deep breath and balled my fists. “Also, um, whatever ‘It’s Complicated’ means, I’m totally fine with it. You’re my friend, and I want you to be happy. I won’t be weird about it or anything. I promise.”
Quint raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what?”
“I saw that your status is ‘It’s Complicated.’ I figured you went to Madeline’s party and—”
“No, it’s not like that at all!” Quint laughed. “Madeline is my friend. I’ve known her since pre-k. We were talking at her party—about you, actually. Even if she’s still bitter about the election and your mom, she gives me good advice.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yup. You’ve gotta give up your paranoia about me liking Madeline! By the way, you guys should try to put politics aside and be friends. I’m working on her about that.”
“Well.” I paused. Having friends at Friends would be nice—even Madeline. “I’d like that.” Maybe the next time I see Madeline, I’ll try the elbow-in-the-soup treatment on her. It’s worth a shot.
“The president doesn’t actually hate me, right?
Because I want your mom, no matter who she is, to like me. Your dad too.” My pulse quickened. It feels like we’re going to be more than friends, again. Dare I hope so?
“Seriously?” I couldn’t hide a smile. “So even though I’m kind of a screwup, you still like me?”
“You’re not a screwup. Especially with that op-ed you wrote. That was supercool.”
“Supercool,” I said slowly, grinning.
“I like girls who write supercool stuff,” Quint said, leaning in toward me.
“Lucky me,” I said. I stood on my tiptoes to reach him for a kiss. It was equally awesome as the one we shared in the White House. Hendrix and Simpkins are just going to have to get used to a little PDA on their watch.
• • •
When I got home from school, an envelope was sitting on top of my laptop. “Audrey” was written on it in my dad’s handwriting. I ripped it open and pulled out a folded letter. A few postcards tumbled out from the paper—one of Times Square, one of the fountain at Lincoln Center, and one of the Statue of Liberty. I squealed even before I read it:
Dear Audrey—
We know this year has had its ups and downs. We’re both very proud of the young woman you’re becoming, though, and we appreciate the sacrifices you’ve made so we can follow our dreams. We want to do the same for you. To start, we’re going to make all the necessary arrangements so you can go on your class trip to New York. Get excited!
Love,
Dad and Mom
P.S. We’re also working on getting easier security clearance for some of your school friends to visit, starting with Quint. The open-door rule will still apply!
I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t sad at all to abandon my half-baked plans to sneak away to NYC. So long as I got a little freedom and the occasional taste of a normal life, I was okay with playing by the rules. I pirouetted around and around my happy Yellow Bedroom, stopping to grab Alice’s diary from my nightstand. More than anything, I wished I could tell Alice what had happened. I am eating up the world! That was when I got my next great idea and pulled out one of the blank journals I’d never bothered to start keeping.
Epilogue
Hi Fido,
First, don’t get upset that I called you that. I was a Fido too—still am, as I’m writing this. (In case you don’t know what I’m talking about—Fido is the acronymish nickname kids at my D.C. school gave me. FIrst DAUghter—FI DAU—Fido, like the dog name?) Anyway, if you’re reading this, you’ve moved into 1600 too, and you are indeed a Fido. (Or a Fiso, I guess. But the Yellow Bedroom’s seen more girls than boys in the past couple of centuries.) Congratulations to your mother or father on his/her victory!
Living at 1600 can be awesome—I don’t need to sell you on the swimming pool, the bowling alley, the movie theater, or the chocolate shop. Oh, the chocolate shop. Get those keys to the cookie tray ASAP. (Have you fully explored the basement yet?) However, 1600 can also be totally lonely. I had a hard time with the loneliness the first year I lived here. Maybe you have some siblings to keep you company, or maybe you’re an only child like me. Either way, it can get rough. I didn’t always deal with my feelings so well. (Ask the archivist for some of the tabloids from during my mom’s administration.)
I had nobody to commiserate with until I met Alice Roosevelt. She was a First Daughter too—back at the turn of the twentieth century when Teddy Roosevelt was president. I didn’t actually meet her, of course—she’d been dead for decades by the time I moved in—and I don’t mean that she was haunting the place either, although I’ve heard rumors about ghosts in the Lincoln Bedroom. I met Alice when I found her journal hidden in the dining room closet. The Smithsonian has the original, of course, but they printed and bound a “facsimile” copy for me. I put that back in the diary’s hiding spot, in case you’re interested in reading it (and you should be, because Alice was awesomesauce). Look for a funky floorboard and the words, “Eat Up the World.” You’ll figure out what that means.
Even though Alice and I lived in the house a hundred-plus years apart, we shared similar experiences. Meeting Alice was the best thing that could’ve happened to me, and it helped make my life at 1600 livable. She helped me find freedom. Don’t worry. I’ll explain the whole story behind that in here.
Because Alice’s diary helped me so much, I’m keeping this journal for you. Paying it forward. Maybe someday you’ll read this and my words will help you sort through the confusion of life as a First Kid. I hope so. And if I’m still around, feel free to contact me. We Fidos need to stick together.
Best of Luck!
Audrey Lee Rhodes
Author’s Note
Alice Lee Roosevelt Longworth was a real person—a fascinating and funny one. She was born on February 12, 1884, the only child of Theodore Roosevelt and his first wife, Alice Hathaway Lee. Sadly, Alice’s mother passed away two days after giving birth. Alice spent her early years living with her Aunt Bamie, whom the family called “Bye.” After her father remarried to Edith Carow, Alice returned to live with her father, stepmother, and five half siblings—plus lots of pets (including a monkey and a badger named Josiah). Theodore Roosevelt became president in 1901, and once in the White House, Alice became both a First Daughter and the nation’s first celebrity. She traveled the world to help her father’s administration, enchanting the press and occasionally shocking them too—like when she jumped into a swimming pool fully clothed. Alice’s wedding to Nicholas Longworth (that’s right—she really did marry Nick!) brought thousands of guests to the White House to watch her, wearing an Alice-blue dress, chop into her wedding cake with a sword. Alice and Nick had one child, a daughter named Paulina. Alice acted as an adviser to her father throughout his political career, and she continued to be a strong presence in Washington’s political and social circles after his death; she was well known for her outrageous behavior and her legendarily sharp wit. It’s not for nothing that her nickname became “The Other Washington Monument.” Alice died on February 20, 1980, at age ninety-six.
Rightfully, Alice is the subject of many great nonfiction books. This is not one of them, because the Alice you found in these pages is a fictional creation. I tried to capture the real Alice’s vivacious spirit, deep curiosity, lively wit, and fierce intelligence in my character Alice. I also described things Alice really did (like practicing yoga and smoking on the White House roof) and incorporated things she actually said (like telling an interviewer that she supported the rights of gay people). Although I tried to stay faithful to what happened in real life, when it came down to good fiction versus factual accuracy, fiction won. Therefore, please treat my Alice, as well as her friends and family, as characters.
Books and online resources, a few helpful D.C. friends, and a tour of the White House grounds helped me imagine Audrey’s world. I aimed to make that setting as realistic as possible, but occasionally I stretched the truth or invented details of contemporary White House life for storytelling purposes. I like to say that the White House in When Audrey Met Alice is 100 percent accurate to Audrey’s experience of being a First Daughter—and is plausible in terms of the real-life White House.
I hope you enjoy this work of fiction and that it inspires you to learn more about the White House and the real Alice Roosevelt. I’ve created a guide, Alice, For Real, which explains more clearly what’s true and what’s made-up in my Alice’s diary. It also gives credit to the nonfiction sources that provided me with fascinating and juicy details about the real Alice’s life. In particular, the works listed in the bibliography by Stacy Cordery, Michael Teague, and Barbara Kerley were invaluable resources, and I cannot recommend their books enough to anyone who wants to know more about Alice. You can find Alice, For Real at JabberwockyKids.com.
Works Cited
Works cited directly in Alice’s story:
Cordery, Stacy. Alice: Alice Roosevelt Longworth, from White House Princess to Washington Power Broker. New Y
ork: Penguin Viking, 2007.
Kerley, Barbara. What To Do About Alice? New York: Scholastic Press, 2008. [for young readers]
Teague, Michael. Mrs. L: Conversations with Alice Roosevelt Longworth. Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1981.
Other excellent books, articles, and online resources about Alice, her friends, and the Roosevelt family:
“Countess Cassini, Former Washington Belle, Now a Refugee and Dressmaker in Italy” The New York Times 29 October 1922.
Donn, Linda. The Roosevelt Cousins: Growing Up Together, 1882–1924. New York: Knopf, 2001.
Felsenthal, Carol. Princess Alice: The Life and Times of Alice Roosevelt Longworth. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2003.
Kimmelman, Leslie. Mind Your Manners, Alice Roosevelt! Atlanta: Peachtree, 2009. [for young readers]
Sagamore Hill National Historic Site http://www.nps.gov/sahi/index.htm
Books and websites about the White House:
Edwards, Susan. White House Kids. New York: Harper Perennial, 2000. [for young readers]
The White House’s official website www.whitehouse.gov
The White House Historical Association website http://www.whitehousehistory.org/
The White House Museum website www.whitehousemuseum.org [an unofficial virtual reference]
White House Historical Association. The White House: An Historic Guide. Washington, D.C., 1962.
White House Historical Association. White House Words: A Style Guide for Writers and Editors. Washington, D.C.: The White House Historical Association, 2011.
More links and resources are available at the author’s website, www.rebeccabehrens.com
Acknowledgments
Thanks first to my wonderful agent, Suzie Townsend. Without her insight, support, and skill this book would not be in your hands. Thanks also to the entire team at New Leaf Literary. The agency doesn’t just represent writers, but truly nurtures them. In short, they’re the best.
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