Bartlet Goes To Mars by Stuart Atkinson

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And talking to Lisa he was definitely both.

That was when he noticed another young girl, even younger than Lisa, sitting on her own at the far end of the room. Unlike her classmates who were happily chatting and swapping crayons and pencils between themselves she had her head down, deep in concentration, and was working slowly on a picture hidden from everyone else's view by her curved arms. Bartlet wasn't sure if she was protecting her work, or embarrassed by it. There was only one way to find out.

"Can I see?" he asked, crouching down beside the young girl. She was almost impossibly pretty - an angel with a mop of blonde hair and pale skin.
But the girl's attention was so focussed on her drawing that she didn't even register his presence. She said nothing, didn't even glance up. Both amused and bemused by his apparent invisibility, Bartlet studied the art material covering the tabletop. Nothing unusual, pens, crayons, paints... the same as the other students... but then he noticed everything on the table was a shade of red, or brown. He was even more intrigued.

"Can I see your picture?" Bartlet asked again, and this time the girl started, realising for the first time someone was watching her. He expected her to jump again when she recognised who her visitor was, but she seemed unfazed. Indifferent almost.

"I'm sorry Mr President, Sir," she said politely after a moment or two, "I didn't see you there." Bartlet suppressed a smile. Was that a hint of disapproval he'd just heard in her young voice?

"It's okay honey, many of the voters think I've disappeared too," Bartlet said gently, still surprised by the formality of her tone and language. But maybe it was a blessing. After all, it had to be better than the alternative; the last thing he needed was a second over-excited youngster re-enacting the most famous scene from The Exorcist. "I just wondered what you're drawing, that's all, I can come back if it's not ready - "

With a definite sigh the young girl moved her arms away, revealing a name badge that read "Amy". Bartlet had to hold in an appreciative whistle when he saw what the young artist had been hiding from view.

In the centre of Amy's sheet of paper was a part-disc, gibbous like a three-quarter Moon, rendered in subtle, delicate shades of red, tan, ochre and brown. At its top and bottom the disk was marked with small patches of blue-white, curled like cream poured in stirred coffee, and etched across its centre was what looked like a narrow but deep gash, branching out into a chandelier-like maze of smaller cuts and gashes on its left. Above the maze, pointing towards the top of the disk like an arrow, was a line of three, equally-spaced cones, and slightly over to their left was a fourth but much larger cone. The planet was suspended against an inky black backdrop, not strewn but delicately studded with a few stars, very effectively making the globe take on an almost three-dimensional appearance. Bartlet recognised the planet at once; he'd seen enough pictures of it over the years.

"Mars," he said quietly, approvingly, and the young girl nodded silently, letting her picture speak for itself.