Ready or Not (13 page)

David's dad paused. He never has to read from notecards or the TelePrompTer. He always memorizes all of his speeches. It's something David can do, as well—speak in public completely extemporaneously (SAT word meaning “composed, performed, or uttered at the spur of the moment”).

I, on the other hand, need notecards. I had mine, tucked in the pocket of my jeans. All I had to wait for was my cue, which Random was going to give me shortly. The president was going to go on about what parents could do to open the lines of communication between them and their children, and I was going to talk about what kids themselves could do.

Then, the day after tomorrow, I am going to go to Maryland and have sex with my boyfriend for the first time. Apparently.

“That's why I'm asking for a Return to Family,” the president went on. “One night a month, where we all turn off the television, stay home from soccer practice, and just spend time with one another, talking. I know it doesn't sound like much…one night a month…can that really be enough to strengthen a family? Studies show that yes, it can. Children whose parents spend even as little as a few hours a month talking with them develop cognitive skills such as language and reading more quickly, test higher, and experience fewer instances of alcohol and drug abuse and premarital sex.”

Wow. Maybe that was my problem. Maybe that's why I was going to be experiencing an instance of premarital sex. Because my mom and dad don't spend enough time with me.

Yeah. It's
their
fault.

“And you'll have the support of the American government behind you,” David's dad was going on. “In an effort to help parents open the lines of communication with their teenaged children, I'm asking state legislators, as part of the Return to Family plan, to pass a bill that requires teens seeking prescription contraception at family planning clinics to have parental consent or to have clinics notify parents five business days in advance of providing such services to teens—”

There was a lot of applause when the president said this. Kris and her friends in the folding chairs in front of us actually cheered.

I didn't cheer.

I went, “Wait. What?”

But the microphone clipped to the collar of my shirt didn't pick it up.

Which was probably just as well. Because I couldn't have heard what I thought I'd just heard. No one else was reacting as if they'd heard anything unusual. I looked out and saw my dad getting up and moving out of the gym because he'd gotten another call on his cell phone. My mom was having a hard time clapping while also balancing her PDA. Rebecca was still reading her book on chaos theory. Lucy was putting on lip gloss.

Everyone else was clapping.

So it must be okay. I must have heard wrong. So, wait. What was I worried about again? Oh, yeah. Sex. With my boyfriend. At Camp David. Day after tomorrow.

“I feel this is an important step,” the president went on, after holding up both hands to still the flood of applause, “in opening the lines of communication between parents and teens. The United States currently leads the developed nations in teen birth and sexually transmitted disease rates. If parents were informed of their teenaged children's behaviors by the agencies that are currently allowed to keep this vital information from them—the clinics and even pharmacists that play a part in promoting teen sexual activity—they could effectively put a stop to it—”

More applause.
More applause
.

I couldn't believe it. I
hadn't
heard him wrong. What was happening? Why were people clapping? Didn't they understand what David's dad was
saying
?

And why had none of this stuff been in the literature the White House press secretary had given me? There'd been nothing there about requiring clinics and pharmacists to notify parents if teenagers came to them for birth control. If there had, I'd have noticed. I mean, that kind of thing has
sort of
been on my mind lately.

The applause for the president's speech was thunderously loud. So loud that it was a few seconds before anyone heard me shouting, “Wait! Wait just a minute!”

Random, noticing that I'd jumped down from my stool, looked over at me and, not seeing from the TelePrompTer that it was my turn to speak yet, said, “Samantha? Did you, uh, have something you wanted to say?”

“Yeah, I have something I want to say.” The notecards were still in my pocket. I wasn't pulling them out. I wasn't pulling them out because I'd forgotten all about them. I was too confused—and angry.

“What are you people clapping for?” I looked right at Kris Parks and her friends. “Don't you realize what he's saying? Don't you realize what's happening here?”

“Um, Samantha,” the president, behind me, said, “I think if you'll let me finish, you'll find that what's happening here is that I am trying to strengthen the American family by giving parental control back to the people who know what's best for their children—”

“But that's…that's wrong!” I couldn't believe I was the only one in the room who seemed to think so. I looked down at Kris and the other kids from Adams Prep. “Don't you get it? Do you hear what he's saying? This Return to Family thing…it's all a crock! It's a trick! It's a…a…”

Suddenly, Dauntra popped into my head. Dauntra, who
couldn't
return to her family, because she'd been thrown out by them. Dauntra, who questioned authority—so much so, she was willing to get arrested for it.

“It's a conspiracy!” I shouted. “A conspiracy to take away your rights!”

“Now, Sam,” the president said, in an easy voice, laughing a little, “let's not be dramatic—”

“How am I being dramatic?” I whirled on him to ask. “You're standing up there, telling the American public that you essentially want pharmacists and doctors to rat teens out if we come to them for help—”

“Samantha,” the president said, looking a lot madder than I'd ever seen him, including the time I took the last chocolate-chocolate-chip cookie from a complimentary basket Capital Cookies had sent him. “That is an oversimplification of the issue at hand. Americans have always valued the family above everything else. American families are this country's backbone, from the Pilgrims who came over on the
Mayflower
to the settlers who tamed the plains, to the immigrants who've made this nation the great melting pot that it is today. I, for one, will not stand here and allow the dissolution of the American family through the undermining of parental rights—”

“What about
my
rights?” I demanded. “What about the rights of the kids? We have rights, too, you know.”

I looked back at the audience. It was hard to see their faces, with the bright lights from the show shining into my eyes. But I managed to find David.

And saw that he was smiling at me. Not like he was happy about what was going on, or anything. But like he understood that I was only doing what I had to do.

Because really, who else was there to do it?

And seeing that smile, I understood something else all of a sudden. Something that hadn't been at all clear to me until then.

“Don't you see?” I asked the audience—and the president, at the same time. “Don't you get it? The way to strengthen families isn't to undermine the rights of one member, while giving more rights to the other. It's not about the PARTS. It's about the WHOLE. It's got to be EQUAL. A family is like…it's like a house. There has to be a foundation first, before you can start decorating.”

I wondered if Susan Boone was watching this. I sort of couldn't picture her watching MTV. But hey, you never knew. Maybe Susan
was
watching. If so, she'd know. She'd know that I finally got it. What she'd been talking about for the past two weeks, about how you couldn't neglect the whole for the sake of the parts. I got it now. I was ready for her life drawing class. I finally understood.

Too bad it was too late.

“Don't you guys get it?” I appealed to the other people my age in the audience. “The real reason the United States leads the developed nations in teen birth and STD rates isn't because clinics aren't notifying parents about their teenagers' behavior, but because here, all they teach us is Just Say No. Not, ‘Here's what you do in case saying no doesn't work out for you.' Just…no. In countries where adults are
open
with kids about sex and birth control, and teens are taught that there's nothing shameful or whatever about it, the rates of unwanted pregnancies and STDs are lowest—”

“I understand your concern, Samantha,” the president cut me off, smiling a little tensely. “But I'm not talking about families such as those you and your fellow pupils here at this fine school belong to. I'm talking about families who haven't had the advantages yours has—”

I couldn't believe it. What was he
saying
? That families who lived in Cleveland Park were somehow immune from bad parenting and teenage sexual experimentation?

“—families who haven't taught their children the kind of morals your parents have instilled in you,” the president went on. “You and all of your friends here at John Adams Preparatory Academy are great examples to this nation of the kind of children we should be striving to raise, children who have the moral character to stand up for what they believe in, to say no to drugs and sex—”

“So because I've said yes to sex,” I declared hotly, “that makes me a bad example to this nation? Is that what you're saying?”

There was a beat as everyone—including me—realized what I'd just said.

As the knowledge that I had just announced to the entire country that I'd had sex with my boyfriend (even though I hadn't) washed over me, I couldn't help wishing that the gym floor beneath me would open up and swallow me whole.

Sadly for me, however, it didn't.

“Oh my God,” I heard my mother's voice, breaking the sudden stillness that had fallen over the gym.

Then:

“Oh my God,” I heard David's mother's voice say.

Then Random Alvarez seemed to come awake from the doze he'd sunk into while the president and I had been speaking, and said, into the camera, “And we'll be back, after these important messages!”

Top ten reasons the next time you're in a position to save the president's life, you might want to reconsider:

  10.   Everywhere you go afterward, you will be harassed by Johnson Family Vacationers.

    9.   You could get asked to go on
Oprah
and after saying no a million times, decide to do it to promote awareness of the issue of child slavery, which actually does exist, even in America, and then spend the whole time crying because Oprah asked about Mewsie, the kitten you had when you were ten who died of feline leukemia.

    8.   While working at your part-time job to make enough pocket money to support your lead pencil habit, people returning copies of
Men in Black II
ask you if you know the real truth about Area 51, seeing as how you have an in at the White House, and all.

    7.   You will have to spend all of your free time in the White House press office, signing photographs of your own head for fans.

    6.   Don't even think about ever setting foot in a McDonald's again. You will be mobbed.

    5.   Everyone you know will ask you if you can get them the president's autograph.

    4.   You will find old past due notices from your local library that you thought you threw away for sale on eBay because everyone wants to own a piece of you.

    3.   You might fall in love with his son, and start dating him.

    2.   Which could make it extremely awkward when the president asks you to support his Return to Family program, and you find out that it violates your personal right to privacy.

And the number-one reason you might want to reconsider saving the life of the president of the United States:

    1.   You might get mad at him and accidentally announce to the world on national television that you've had sex with his son. Even though you haven't.

Yet.

“It's those damned art lessons,” the president said.

“It wasn't the art lessons, Dad,” David said, sounding tired. I guess because he
was
tired. We'd been going back and forth about this for the past hour in our living room, ever since the president stomped out of the disastrous town hall meeting during the commercial break, causing MTV to have to put on a rerun of
Pimp My Ride.

“All I know is my son wasn't interested in sex until he started drawing naked people,” the president said.

“Dad,” David said, “I've always been
interested
in sex. I'm a guy, all right? I'm just not actually
having
sex. Nor am I
planning
to do so in the near future.”

Wow. I never knew David was such a good liar. Seriously.

“Then why,” his father began, “did Sam say—”

“Wait a minute,” my dad said. “Who's drawing naked people?”

“Sam is.” My mom leaned forward to pour the first lady some more coffee. “Susan Boone asked her and David to take her adult life drawing class on Tuesday and Thursday nights.”

My dad looked blank. “How's that supposed to have made them want to have sex?”

“We're not having sex,” I said, for what had to have been the thirty thousandth time.

“Then why, in the name of God,” the president said, “did you tell everyone in America that you've said yes to sex?”

“I don't know,” I said. I had hunched myself up into the smallest ball imaginable on the sofa, hugging my legs to my chest, and resting my chin on my knees. “You were just making me so mad—”

“ME?” The president looked more annoyed than ever. “How do you think
I
feel? I'm standing there like an idiot going on about what a great example my son is, and it turns out the whole time he's been making me into the biggest hypocrite on the planet—”

“No, he hasn't,” I said, feeling worse than ever. “Because we're not having—”

“Yeah, well, I don't exactly recall your asking me if I supported your whole reproductive health clinic parental consent bill, Dad,” David said, at the same time. “In fact, I don't remember Sam seeing it anywhere in any of the Return to Family literature you gave her, either. Because if she had, I'm sure she'd have mentioned it to me.”

“Parents should have the right to know what their children are doing behind their backs,” the president declared.

“
Why
?” David wanted to know. “So they can act like you're acting now about it? What's the
point
, Dad? They're just going to freak, the way you are.”

“If they find out BEFORE their child goes ahead and HAS sex,” the president said, “they MIGHT be able to try to stop him, to open up the lines of communication so that they can keep that child from making the worst mistake of his or her life—”

“Let's not get too dramatic here, shall we?” My mom's tone was steady—the same one she uses in the courtroom. “Sam has apologized for what she did, and explained that she was speaking hyperbolically.” (SAT word meaning “an exaggerated statement uttered in excitement”). “I think the real issue now is what we are going to do about it.”

“I'll tell you what WE're going to do about it,” the president said. “Boarding school.”

David lifted his gaze to the ceiling with a bored expression. “Dad,” he said.

“I'm serious,” the president said. “I don't care if you only have a year of high school to go. I'm sending you to military school, and that's final.”

I glanced, panic-stricken, at David.

But he looked calm…much calmer, as a matter of fact, than you would think, considering that he was about to be enrolled in some boot camp in the Ozarks.

“You're not sending me anywhere, Dad,” David said. “Because I haven't DONE anything. Instead of jumping to conclusions like a reactionary, why don't you try to understand what Sam was saying during the town hall meeting…that there has to be a balance within families in order for them to work. Everyone is entitled to his or her rights, but only so long as they don't infringe on the rights of another. Just because they aren't old enough to vote doesn't mean it's okay for you to strip teens of their rights.”

David's dad glowered. “That is an oversimplification of—”

“Is it?” David asked. “You might want to keep in mind that in a few short years, those teens
will
be old enough to vote. And how kindly do you think they're going to feel toward the guy who made the law that rats them out to their mom and dad every time they want to buy a rubber?”

“Enough,” my mother said emphatically, before the president, who looked madder than ever, could open his mouth. “We're not solving all of society's problems tonight.” She sent the president her best courtroom look—the one her coworkers over at the EPA called
Death to the Industrialist.
“And no one is getting sent to boarding school. Let us, for the moment, be grateful that we have two smart, healthy children, who have always made the right decisions in the past. I, for one, intend to trust them to continue to make the right decisions in the future.”

“But—” the president began.

But this time it was his wife who cut him off.

“I agree with Carol,” the first lady said. “I think we should just put this whole, unfortunate incident behind us, and try to look on the bright side.”

“Which is?” the president wanted to know.

“Well.” David's mom had to think a minute. Then she brightened. “At least our children aren't suffering from teen apathy, like so many of their peers. I mean, David and Sam really do seem to care about the issues.”

The president didn't seem to think this was anything to be thankful for. He sank, with a gusty sigh, back down into his chair.

“This,” he said, to no one in particular, “just hasn't been my day.”

Suddenly—even though I was still really mad at him for trying to pull one over on me…because that's exactly what he'd tried to do, just as Dauntra had warned—I felt a little sorry for David's dad. I mean, after all, his program really
did
have some good points.

“Return to Family is a nice idea,” I said, to make him feel a little better. “If it means, you know…this. Families talking stuff out. But if it means violating someone else's rights…well, how is that helping anybody?”

He gave me a very sour look. “I got the message, Sam,” he said. “Loud and clear. I think all of America did.”

Taking that as my cue that maybe David's dad had seen enough of me for one day, I crawled off the couch and slunk from the living room…

…and was relieved when David joined me in the silent kitchen, Lucy and Rebecca having long since been banished to their rooms…though I didn't doubt there'd been some surreptitious eavesdropping going on at the top of the stairs.

“You okay?” David asked, when we were alone together at last.

Instead of replying, I threw my arms around his neck and just stood there, my face buried against his chest, breathing in his Davidy scent and trying not to cry.

“There, there,” David said, stroking my Midnight Ebony hair. “Everything'll be all right, Sharona.”

“I'm sorry,” I said, sniffling. “I don't know what came over me back there at the gym.” I stood there with my eyes closed, enjoying the warmth I could feel through his sweater, wishing I never had to let go.

“Don't worry,” he said. “You were just doing what you always do…standing up for what you believe in.”

It made me blink to hear him say that. Because it so isn't true. I
don't
stand up for what I believe in. Not with Kris at school. Not with Stan at work. And especially not with David. I mean, if I had, I wouldn't still be going to Camp David with him for Thanksgiving.

“Listen, David,” I said, after taking a deep breath. “About Thanksgiving—”

“You're still coming, aren't you?”

Only it wasn't David who asked it. It was his mother, the first lady, who came into the kitchen at that very moment. David and I sprang apart.

What was I supposed to say? I mean, she looked really concerned. Like all she could think about was all that turkey that was going to go to waste if I didn't show up.

“Um, yes,” I said. “Yes, of course I am.”

“Good,” the first lady said. “I'm so glad. Come on, David. It's time to go. Good night, Sam.”

“Um,” I said. “Good night, ma'am. And…I'm really sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” David's mother said with a sigh. “Tell Sam you'll pick her up Thursday morning, David.”

David grinned at me. “I'll pick you up Thursday morning, Sam,” he said and, after giving my hand a squeeze, dropped it, and followed his mother out into the foyer.

Thursday. Great.

“Well,” my mother said, when we'd finally closed the front door behind our guests, “that was nice. Too bad they took their Secret Service agents with them. I could really use a bullet in the head right about now.”

Even though I sort of felt the same way, I decided it was time to recite the speech I'd been mentally rehearsing since we'd all left the gym.

“Mom, Dad,” I said, “I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you both for raising me in such a warm, supportive atmosphere, and for providing me with the kind of positive role models that a young girl such as myself really needs if she's going to make her way in this complex and ever-changing urban landscape—”

“Sam,” my dad interrupted me, “I realize you were merely trying to make a point tonight. However, I think it's time we made some changes in this house. Some BIG ones. With that in mind, I would really like it if you would go to your room right now. And stay there,” he added, sounding, for the first time in a long time, like he was actually doing some parenting.

“Um,” I said. “Okay.” And scurried up the stairs to my room….

Where I found my sister Lucy waiting, her eyes wide.

“Oh my God,” she cried, after making sure our parents had closed the door to their own room, and couldn't overhear us. “That was…that was…that was INSANE.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, feeling suddenly exhausted.

“I mean, I have never seen Mom and Dad so…so…so the way they were.”

“Yeah,” I said, staring up at my wedding photo of Gwen.

“So are you totally grounded?”

“No.”

Lucy looked shocked. “Not at ALL?”

“No,” I said. “But Dad said there were going to be some changes around here. Some BIG ones.”

Lucy sank down onto my clothes hamper, clearly shaken to her core.

“Wow,” she said. “You killed Carol and Richard.”

“I don't think I killed them,” I said. “I think they just, like…trust me.”

“I know,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “That's the beauty of it. They have no idea what you've REALLY got planned. For the day after tomorrow.”

I fully did not need the reminder. I clutched my stomach, suddenly convinced I was going to heave.

“Lucy,” I said, “could we talk about this some other time? Because I think I need to be alone right now.”

“I hear you,” Lucy said, and rose to leave. “But I just want to say, for teenage girls everywhere, way…to…go.”

Then she left, closing the door softly behind her.

And I looked up at Gwen, and burst into tears.