I thought I should introduce this story, it is based off of a universe that is consistently the scene for my dreams, some slight changes have been made, such as dialogue being added, or facts being made accurate, but other than that it’s pretty much exactly the same, so enjoy jumping in to a world, that in a way is a piece of my brain.

“You should go back to the residence and rest,” The First Lady says

“Fine,” President Brackette sighs and then sneezes, “Lily would you like to come with me?”

“Yes Mr president,” I reply. The president’s life fascinates me, and is something I aspire to have someday. I had been spending about 4 days a week at the White House for about 3 months now, but I’m still not sure how it was arranged. We begin walking toward the residence and when we get there, president Bartlett settles into one of the chairs, and at his gesture I sit in the other.

“Do you play?” The president asks as he reaches for a chess board and sets it between us.

“Only a little” I pause, “my brother Zack is really good though”

“Well I suppose I’ll have to play him one day, but first, you” and with that we start setting up the chess board, president Brackette sneezing and sniffing as we do.

“I like you,” The president says as he moves his queen.

“Well then the feeling is mutual,” I responded.

“What do you want to be when you grow up”

“Honestly?” I ask, as I move my pawn to make an L

“Sure”

“I want to be president, and I hoped that I could learn from you”

“I thought you might say that” The president chuckles

“Why?”

“Because not a lot of teenagers hangout at the whitehouse for fun, and because you have great potential “ he moves his rook “if only you can learn to see the big picture, CHECKMATE!

I walked back to my taxi, private escort, with my heart thudding behind my ribs. The President had told me I have potential! And then he immediately checkmated me, but surely that doesn't mean much... But I didn't want to be a politician, not really, thought my Mom had told me I'd make a great lawyer one day, I think that might've been because I'd been arguing with her too long on the ethics of her making me do the dishes when I was studying for mid-terms.

I watch the rain drip down the car's window, driver silent in front of me. I remember, vaguely, being told that his name was James, a few months ago. I've tried talking to him. he isn't a very good conversationalist. The raindrops chase each other down the glass as the tarmac passes me by. I've been at this internship for three months now, and its a sweet gig, all expenses paid, and a brilliant addition to my resumé and college applications. The car slows at a red light, and for the first time since I've known him, James turns his head slightly, like he's checking behind him instead of the side mirror.

"You're not actually going home," he says.

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"Change of plans, Miss Wharf. There's someone who wants to talk to you before you get back to your dorm."

My stomach flips. "Is this... does my mom know about this?"

"No."

The light turns green, but instead of continuing straight toward Georgetown, James eases the car into the far lane and takes a right down an alley I don't recognize. The rain is coming down harder now, blurring the streetlights into long gold smears across the windshield.

"James, where are we going?" I ask, getting more and more panicked by the second.

"You'll be safe." A pause. "You did well tonight."

"It was chess." I huff, trying to stay nonchalant despite my pulse spiking in my wrists. "I lost."

"You held your own for eleven moves against a man who plays three times a week." He glances at me in the rearview mirror. "Chess isn't what you were being tested on. It was your composure."

The words settle into my chest like a stone dropped in water, rippling outwards in slow, panging rings of anxiety. "Tested?" I repeat.

"Did you really think an internship program just... hands a seventeen-year-old that much access, Lily?" He shakes his head slightly. "Nothing about your placement was random."

I want to laugh, tell him he's being dramatic, that I'm just a kid who likes politics and got lucky. But my mouth has gone dry, and the taxi meter on the dash isn't running, I realize. It never was.

"Who are you?" I ask.

James finally pulls the car to the curb, outside a building with no sign, no lit windows, nothing to mark it as anything at all. He shifts into park and turns fully around to face me for the first time in three months. "Someone who's about to offer you a job," he says.