The President's Wife - Kathy Myme Page 0,1

sure you’ve received it by the end of the day or you’ll have trouble getting in tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I reply, taking in all the information.

“The other interns won’t be here for another thirty minutes, but I can take you inside. See if there’s someone in there who can show you where to go.”

I flash him a grateful smile. “Yes, please.”

He nods and guides me through the gates, allowing me past security. Now there’s nothing between me and the set of doors - the White House doors! - that might change my life forever. I’ve imagined this moment a hundred-thousand times over, but nothing could have prepared me. Not entirely.

“Stay close,” the guard warns. “It’s a big place. We wouldn’t want you getting lost.”

His voice is kind… but there’s also a hint of something else there. A warning.

When we go inside, we don’t go in by the big, fancy White House entrance that dominates every photo. He allows me through a far less impressive side door, but I don’t find myself quite as disappointed as I thought. The whole thing feels a lot more secretive. Like I’m special.

We approach a reception desk where a woman is sipping her morning coffee, clicking away at a screen.

“Amy?” The security guard gestures to me. “I have…”

“An intern,” the woman replies, looking me up and down.

Seriously, is it something I’m wearing? The plain white blouse and black pencil skirt aren’t exactly a hot new professional look. I vow to throw out my wardrobe at the earliest possible opportunity.

“Yes, ma’am.” I stand up a little straighter. “I’m-“

“Bethany Jones?”

“No, I’m-“

“Alice Smith-Brown?”

“It’s Ver-“

“Trina Santiago?”


Her brow wrinkles, but she still doesn’t pause long enough for me to get a word in. “Then… Riley O’Brian? But that name is marked off as male on my list.”

“That’ll be because I’m not Riley,” I point out. “My name is Veronica Waters, ma’am.”

She stares hard at her computer and I hear a few swift clicks. “Veronica Waters, you said?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but your name isn’t on my list,” she says. “You are one of the interns meant to arrive today, aren’t you?”

I nod. I’m absolutely sure that today is the day. March 9th. I’ve had it written in my calendar, in my phone, in my entire mind ever since I found out that I’d been accepted a month ago.

“I’m early, if that helps,” I tell her. “I was meant to arrive at eight.”

“That doesn’t make a difference. There are four interns meant to start today: Jones, Smith-Brown, Santiago, and O’Brian.”

“Please could you check again?” I ask. “Veronica Waters. W-A-T-E-R-S.”

“I’m afraid you’re just not on my list,” she says. “If you leave your telephone number, I can see if I can get this sorted for you within a few days.” She gestures to the guard. “George, if you don’t mind…”

The guard, who I hadn’t realized is still here, touches me on the elbow. “I’ll show you out, miss.”

“Wait!” I rummage in my satchel bag like my life depends on it. “Here, this might clear things up.”

As usual, I’ve come prepared. The papers I pull out are a printed transcript of the information I’d been given about this internship. I hadn’t really believed that I’d need them, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry. Situations like this just prove that.

I hand them over and watch as the woman scrutinizes them like I’ve handed her top-secret government plans. Come to think of it, she’s probably used to holding top-secret government plans…

“Well, it does appear that there’s been some kind of a mix-up,” she says eventually. “I’ll call someone down who might know a bit more about this.”

“Can I speak to Mr Keating, please?” I ask hopefully.

Mr Keating led the interviews for this internship. He has to know a bit about what’s going on. At the very least, he’ll recognize me.

“Keating?” She shakes her head. “Keating resigned two weeks ago, miss. But his successor will be more than happy to see you. Feel free to take a seat.” She flashes a smile at the guard. “Thank you for your help, sir.”

I obediently find myself sitting in one of the leather chairs beside the desk, legs crossed. Hopefully someone who knows what they’re doing will be able to sort all of this out. I am not backing down. I earned this internship. I worked for it harder than I ever even thought possible.

“Miss… Waters?” A woman taps me on the shoulder.

She’s pretty and far younger than I’d usually expect a replacement for