Streamers of light and the tinkling of chimes like the melody of the stars popped Sutton's sleep bubble. She turned over in her silk sheets and dispersed the stars. Yawning, she pushed herself up and slumped forward, her arms dangling between her legs. She blinked dusting off the dreams from her mind.

Around her, the world was hazy, like a strange atmospheric anomaly had occurred in her room creating a cloud of white fog. All she could make out were mint green walls and the vague outlines of beige colored furniture pieces.

Twisting, she reached out and scrambled to locate her glasses. Once perched on her nose, the world came into clarity and the anomaly vanished. On one wall above the desk was a collage of photos that seemed to give the too perfect room a touch of personality. With another yawn, she tossed aside her covers and slipped from the plush bed. Through the cracks in the butter yellow curtains, the sweetness of summer sunlight peeked through.

Sutton bent down and grabbed the large Yale sweater off the ground, tugging it over her head. It drowned her thin frame but she didn't notice. It was stretched out, fraying at the edges and about twenty years old.

Tucking her feet into a pair of moccasin slippers, she headed for the door. As she crossed a living room that was cut out of architectural digest with its pristine cream couches, tasteful collect of throw pillows, mahogany coffee, and end tables, she tied her cinnamon colored hair up into a lopsided bun, not bothering to deal with the stray wisps she missed.

Passing by the Yellow Oval room, Sutton glanced someone in the throes of cleaning. Beyond the curve of the floor to ceiling windows and the Truman balcony lay Washington D.C. basking in a cloudless day. When Sutton descended the stairs, leaving The Residence behind, the world took on a different tone from the peaceful one from above. The thrum of footsteps could be heard from a distance, a sound even the thick carpets couldn't hide.

The true tumult came as Sutton wandered into the kitchens. The sizzle of butter on a hot pan, the clang of china dishes on a metal counter collided with commands and conversations. With sleepy steps, Sutton wound her way through the chaos to a side table. On it sat two mugs of coffee. In the foam were drawn two milk leaves. Collecting them both, she gave a half yawned 'thank you' to a round figured woman in a white apron.

"Of course, Sutton," the cook said with a happy wave of her plump hand.

Sutton took a sip of her coffee, the creamy, sugary taste with a pinch of bitter rousing her slumbering mind. Even when she was free of the kitchen the mayhem didn't stop. The closer she got to the West Wing the more manic the world became.

Around her was a blur of black, gray and dark blue suits. People moved like they were being chased with a hot poker, they dressed like their were stepping into a business meeting and wore the expressions of those who didn't know what a good nights sleep was anymore.

In their midst, Sutton stood out like an orange poppy in a coal mine. Though this was the truth, she seemed to belong there as much as they did, having been a part of that world for the last four years. Despite there harried lives, they still called out greetings to the seventeen-year-old slip of a girl and received cheery hellos with the correct names attached to the end.

At a desk outside the Oval Office, Sutton paused. The older, ginger-haired female assistance with a face that gathered wrinkles like badges looked up.

"Is he busy?" Sutton asked.

With a smile, Margaret shook her head and rose, opening the door for Sutton. When the door closed behind her, the commotion from outside was muffled. It was if this room alone could quiet the world's problems. Behind the ornate desk - that spoke of history and power - sat her father. His head was bent over an open folder and his hand stroked his chin in thought.

Sutton approached the desk and laid the coffee mug down beside him. He didn't notice but she hadn't expected him to. Leaving him to his thoughts, she padded her way over to one of the white and gold striped couches. She sank down and hid one foot beneath her leg. The scent of the caffeinated drink enticed her father from his study and he looked up. 

"Morning, Button," he said.

Picking up the mug, he joined her, taking the opposite couch. He was a man in his early fifties that still possessed a thick head of hair, though it was a mix of black and gray, a body that had yet to turn on him, and caramel eyes, like Sutton's, that had the ability to hold authority or affection. A sad smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he noticed Sutton wearing her mother's old sweater.

"So," Sutton said, cradling her mug and letting it strengthen her resolve. "I thought about what you said and have made a decision."

Her father raised an eyebrow, peering out her over the rim of his cup. With a tiny fidget, Sutton pressed her glasses up the bridge of her freckled nose.

"You made a really good point," she said, her words having the habit of leaving her mouth like they were playing bumper cars. "Though I needed to stay here for the last year to deal...with stuff and not have to worry about being around people. It has been over a year since mom..."

She swallowed hard at the twist of pain in her chest. Nothing changed in her father's strong face but she could see the flecks of grief there. She hurried on, this was not a room for weakness or sorrow.

"I decided to do as you suggested and go to high school for my senior year. Even though that starts really soon I'm guessing with you being President all we could find a way to make it happen. If not well I am fine staying here and dealing tutors. They kinda feel like the safer option."

An encouraging grin from her father dammed the tirade of words.

"I think that is a good option. I'll have it dealt with." His thick brows drew together. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

Sutton gave a halting nod, not at all sure but knowing if she did this it would lift a little of her father's worry for her. He had enough to worry about, the least she could do was take some of it back. The door to the office opened and his assistant poked her head in.

"Mr. President, the Speaker of the House is here to see you," she said.

Her father rose, buttoning his tailored, charcoal gray suit jacket. As easy as that the caring, concerned father was set aside and the President stepped forward. Before her father could completely disappear, he kissed the top of Sutton's head.

"I'm proud of you, Button."

Smiling at him, she scurried to the door and slipped past the assistant. Waiting beyond the doorway was a trim looking woman in her late forties with bell-shaped hair.

"Morning, ma'am," Sutton said.

The Speaker offered Sutton a rare smile. It was a look that transformed the woman's face into someone to be taken seriously to someone who would listen to your problems with patience. Behind her, a few feet away stood a man in a black suit. He was in his mid-thirties with tan skin, short, honey blonde hair, cerulean eyes, and a clean-shaven face. As Sutton trailed back into the storm, the man took up a station by her side.

"I told him I decided to go to high school," Sutton said.

Danny said nothing, sensing that wasn't the end of what she had to say. Before she could continue a cheery-faced man with tight black curls walked past.

"Morning, Sutton," he said.

"Hi, Charlie." Sutton nibbled on her bottom lip. "You don't think I made a mistake, right? High school won't be that bad. Right? I mean it will be a private school, but I'm sure I'll fit in. People go to high school all the time, it's something they do, it will be fine."

A man in a navy suit with a striking face stepped out of a side door and crossed before the pair.

"Hi, Sutton," he said, with a nod.

"Hey, Sam. I mean I won't be on my own. You'll be there." Sutton shot Danny a nervous glance. "You will be there, right? Because high school is dangerous, kids can be mean and it is your job to protect me, so I feel like it would be wise if you were there."

Danny bit back a smile and remained quiet. A balding man with a prominent nose walked alongside a tall, commanding woman with pale skin.

"Sutton," the man said as their paths aligned for a brief moment before splitting like cars on a freeway.

"Toby, C.J."

In a side office, someone slammed their hand on a desk and shouted 'no' into a phone. An intern plastered themselves to the wall, as a harassed-looking man, with papers clutched in his hand, pelted down the hallway, twisting out of Sutton and Danny's way.

"Your silence is making me uneasy," Sutton continued. "And I would feel a lot more reassured if you made a comment right about now."

"I'll be with you, Sutton," Danny said.

A breath of relief escaped Sutton's lips. Then a thought hit her, stealing some of the ease the breath had given.

"Will you be in my classes with me, or will you simply be in the building? Cause if you were in classes with me you could give me answers to problems or help me pass notes."

They diverted up a set of stairs, leaving the tempest of the West Wing behind.

"I don't think people pass notes anymore and that's not my job."

"Okay, but you'll be in class with me?"

Danny gave a nod in confirmation.

"Okay," Sutton said, exhaling. "That makes me feel better."

When they hit The Residence floor, Danny paused, hands folded in front of him.

"How about this," he said. "Since as you say high school is a dangerous place, go change and we'll have a small defense lesson this morning."

"All right, but this means I get to have two croissants for breakfast then."

*******

The gym smelled like sweat, determined spirits, and straining muscles. The clatter of metal weights hitting each other rang throughout the place. A wall of mirrors doubled the room and made the occupants all too aware of their appearance. The beat of labored breathes was lost in the sea of rhythmic footsteps on a treadmill. In one far corner stood a raised boxing ring. Within its boundaries were Sutton and Danny, the scene almost comical with her petite body put against his militarily built one.

"Remember fists up, you got to protect that face."

Sutton raised her gloved hands higher. Danny clapped his two protection mitts together and beckoned her forward. Quirking her lips to the side in concentration, Sutton swam forward and hit his left mitt. The blow barely had any force behind it, but Danny nodded his approval. Sutton aimed for the right mitt and punched. It had the same effect as the last. Her movements were slow and methodical as if she planned to fight someone who would take as much time to work out a strategy as she would.

"You're going to be with me, so I'm not sure why this is necessary," she said, ducking under Danny's warning swing.

Danny gave an amused chuckle. "My sister and my niece would be appalled to hear you say that."

Distracted, Sutton let her hands fall, staring at him.

"Why?" she asked.

Seeing this wasn't going to be something Sutton let go, Danny straightened and rested his mittened hands on his hips.

"Well, my older sister, Carter believes that no girl should rely on the strength and protection of men. A girl should know how to take care of herself. She instilled this same ideal into her daughter, Kennedy. Kennedy would be more likely to fight her own battles and someone else's before she let a man come and steal her thunder."

Sutton cocked her head, an appreciative smile twisting her lips.

"I like your sister and niece," she said.

"I do too. Now let's get back to it."

Sutton bent her legs and screwed up her face into a fierce look. They had gone through another round of hits when something snagged her attention away. In the doorway to the gym, standing beside the White House's Press Secretary was a boy about Sutton's age.

He was gangly like someone had tried to stretch him out instead of waiting for him to grow up, with dark skin, short curly hair and black eyes. Though his ears stuck out and seemed too big for his head, his wide, confident smile made this one feature barely noticeable.

In a moment, Sutton froze, staring and didn't register Danny's timed swing. Before he could fully pull back, the mitt hit her ear. Surprised, she staggered. Danny caught her before she could fall.

"You all right?" he asked. "What happened?"

Sutton blinked, her gaze still trained on the boy who was talking to Josh.
"Who is that?" she asked, letting Danny help stabilize her.

Danny glanced back at the chatting pair.

"That is Josh's son, Graham. His mother and he lived in Virginia but since she got a job in D.C. they moved back." 

Sutton took in the information, but for once didn't have anything to say in reply. When Graham's survey of the gym brought his attention to them. He offered up a smile to Sutton and she let out a squeak of surprise, taking cover behind Danny.

"Is he still there? Is he still watching? I bet I look crazy or a mess. What is he doing? Did he stop smiling? Did he look away? Did he vomit?"

Danny raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Vomit?"

Sutton curled her arms into her body, trying to minimize herself.

"That's something people do when they are shocked by seeing someone who looks terrible. I think...maybe not. Is he still looking? Was the vomit green or puce? If it was puce I don't think that's a very good sign."

Before Danny could give her any answers to the questions she had rocketed at him, Sutton leaned to the side, sneaking a look at the doorway. Graham was in the progress of leaving. When he noticed Sutton had reappeared, the edge of his lips curled into a laughing smile. Something about it made Sutton's own lips turn upwards. After he left, she let out a breath and peered up at Danny.

"I think that went better than usual."

*****************************

Hey hey!

So yup, not really sure where this book is going to go. I decided I wanted to write about a girl being the President's daughter after binge watching Designated Survivor. Sutton is murphnturf's favorite character of mine and she's not even completely written! 🙄 Who knew!

Also yes, her Secret Service agent is Danny Owens. Not sure is Carter or Kennedy will make an appearance but Sutton will definitely be going to Hamilton Prep.

Let me know what you think and whether you would read the rest of the book! ☺️

Vote, comment, follow!