Read Online When Audrey Met Alice by Rebecca Behrens - Free Book Online Page A

back to the conversations they’d been immersed in before I entered the room—although a few curious guests kept glancing back at me, and at least one person took my picture. I planted myself next to Heidi, hoping that my parents would not come over to freak out on me if I stayed next to the chancellor’s kid. What was I thinking? Maybe someone like Alice Roosevelt could stun a room with a beautiful dress, but not me. I sighed.
    The girl, Heidi, leaned in to talk to me. “These things can be difficult, no? Sometimes you just want to…do something unexpected.” She squeezed my arm reassuringly. “At least, I do.” Then Heidi pushed her thick, long red hair behind one ear, showing me a glimpse of a tattoo covering the side of her neck. It looked so strange on an otherwise conservatively dressed, fresh-faced girl. I couldn’t tell if it was real or temporary. “I think wearing your cool dress to dinner is, how do you say, inspired .”
    I grinned and was about to tell Heidi how happy I was that she understood when my mother appeared by my side. “Excuse me. May I have a moment with my daughter?” Mom was smiling but had the same icy look in her eyes that she got when an opponent told her to “man up” during a debate—peeved, but trying to hide it.
    “Certainly, Madam President. Audrey, it was very nice to meet you.” I nodded. A lump was forming in my throat. Mom is going to kill me now. At least there will be witnesses. I reluctantly followed her out into the hall, where a few staffers were waiting.
    “We will discuss this in depth later,” she said quietly, “but for now, put this on.” An aide stepped forward and handed me a black shawl. “And wipe off that makeup.” I nodded and wobbled off to the bathroom to wash my face. Even though my mom was clearly mad, I didn’t feel particularly bad. Actually, I felt frustrated right back at her.
    The rest of the dinner was fine, although I was barefaced and swathed in a massive pashmina that hid most of my dress. All I could concentrate on during the event was how much the shawl made my skin itch.
    Around eleven, the knock I’d been dreading came on my door. “Come in,” I called and slouched into my pillows, pulling up the covers. Maybe if they saw me in bed they’d keep the lecturing short. Both of my parents walked in, still in formal attire.
    “Audrey,” my mom started, “wardrobe for dinners with heads of state is absolutely nonnegotiable. Period. Thank goodness the chancellor has a teenage daughter himself—he found it amusing that you wore a dance costume. Not all guests would react the same way. What if he thought you weren’t taking his visit seriously? Or that you didn’t respect him and his office?” I nodded. I hadn’t thought about offending someone—whoops.
    “Come on, Audrey,” my dad added. “You’re old enough that you should’ve known not to wear that.” I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. How could you not want to roll your eyes whenever a parent invoked the whole “you’re old enough” thing?
    “I wasn’t wearing a costume, though. I mean, it was part of my dance costume, but it’s a dress,” I explained. “A grown-up one. For once, I didn’t want to look like a little kid. The wardrobe people never listen to me about that.”
    “Then you should’ve told me that earlier today, or the assistant who chose your outfit.” My mom spoke in the kind of tone that meant she was trying not to blow up but might not succeed.
    “Fine. I guess I’ll consider my clothes one less thing I get say-so over in this house.” I crossed my arms and flopped back into my pillows.
    “Audrey. That’s not fair,” my dad started.
    I shot back up. “It’s true. Admit it. I am just a prop to be dressed up around here.”
    My parents glanced at each other. My mother was biting her lip, and my dad whispered something to her. Then he winked at me.
    Mom uncrossed her arms. “I don’t appreciate your tone. But maybe we should set up