The Originals

Page 36

“Hey, you,” I say sweetly. He looks up and smiles.
“There you are,” he says. “Feel like going back to the cove?”
“Seems fitting,” I say, remembering our trip there after I told him I’m a clone. It only seems natural that we’d go again on our first day as an official couple.
Sean has to stop first at the post office to mail some photos for his mom. It sounds weird, but the normalness of running errands with him warms me. We take Sean’s car because mine’s almost out of gas, and when we’re out on the main roads, he cranks up the music and we both sing out of tune.
“What’s going on with that Petra girl?” Sean asks when the song’s over.
“Betsey set up a time to talk to her on the phone this weekend,” I say. “She’s going to try to see if there’s a good time to ask if she wants to do a DNA test.”
“I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation,” Sean says, laughing. “I like Airborne Toxic, too; want to take a DNA test to see if we’re related?”
“I know; me, too,” I say. “But Bet will figure out a way to ask her.”
We chat through the commercials about nothing, then The Bravery comes on. He turns it up again.
“I love this song,” I say.
“I love you.”
It’s so nonchalant—his eyes still on the road—that it takes a second to hit me. When it does, I suck in my breath and look sharply at him. Feeling my stare, he smiles, but keeps his eyes on the road. I look away and roll down my window a little, because suddenly I feel hot. We get caught at a light and when he stops, he looks at me.
“Lizzie,” he says. I look at him.
“I heard you,” I say, smiling.
“Yeah, but it came out wrong,” he says. “I think about it all the time—I think about you all the time—and it just came out sort of… light. But I mean it.”
I have to look away from his intensity: I glance at the stoplight to make sure it’s still red.
“Lizzie,” he says again, drawing me back in. He touches my right jawline with three fingertips. “I’ve never said it to anyone else, but I know what I feel. I’m completely serious when I say that I love you.”
Beep.
Beep, beep.
Hooooonk!
I know the light’s turned green; I know the other drivers are mad. But I don’t tell him to move. Instead, I say:
“I love you, too.”
At the post office, Sean parks in the spot farthest from the door and then reaches back and grabs a box. He opens his door, then looks at me.
“Wanna wait here or come in?”
“Let’s go.”
The line is long and narrow; Sean stands behind me with a hand on my hip, whispering weird things into my ear to pass the time.
“Do you think Ella and Betsey will fall in love with me, too, since you did?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, laughing. “You’re not that awesome.”
“Funny,” he says. “Hmm… I wonder if the Original will inexplicably fall in love with me, too?”
I roll my eyes, not justifying that one with an answer.
“Hey, what if your mom lied about there being an Original and she just cloned herself?”
“We don’t really look like her,” I whisper.
“What if you’re a clone of a famous person?” he says quietly.
“You’ve lost it,” I say a little too loudly; the surly postal worker gives me a look. I turn around and smack Sean, because we both know it was his fault.
Finally it’s our turn and of course the mean lady is the one who helps us. She says a total of five words through the whole painful transaction. When we’re finished, we grab hands and rush away from the counter. Sean heads toward the IN door instead of the OUT; I yank him in the right direction.
“Can you actually read?” I joke as we step outside.
I’m watching Sean laugh instead of looking where I’m going when I almost bump into someone.
“Elizabeth Violet Best!” a voice hisses.
And that voice belongs to my mother.
I’m completely quiet the entire ride home, and for the duration of the twenty-minute “conversation” I have with Mom once we arrive. When it’s nearly over, when I’m ready to just hear my punishment and go hide in my room, Mom notices that I’m not wearing the necklace. She screams at Ella and Betsey to come to the living room, then tells all three of us that we’re grounded.
“What did we do?” Ella asks, looking her most innocent.
Mom narrows her eyes at her. “You three live one life; if Lizzie’s stepping out of line, you all know about it. You’re accomplices.”
“That’s crap,” Betsey says.
“I see you’re wearing the necklace when Lizzie should be,” Mom counters. Betsey shuts up. For some reason—maybe it’s because we all want to believe we’re on the brink of something with Petra and want to see how it plays out—none of us mentions that we know about Mom’s secret life.
“So, what does that mean, exactly?” Ella asks in true Ella style. She wants ground rules.
Mom looks at Betsey, “First, it means that you will quit your job. There’s no reason for it other than an opportunity to socialize and make spending money for clothes and music, which you will not be purchasing anytime soon.” Betsey’s shoulders slump. “You’ll continue with night class,” Mom says.
My stomach seizes up the second before she narrows her eyes at me.
“And Lizzie, here’s what being grounded means to you,” she says. I brace myself for losing the car, being forced to take the bus. What she says next never enters my mind. “Ella is taking school full-day.”
“What?” I shout. “You’re not letting me go to school?”
“Oh my god,” Ella groans. Now she has to go back to cheer practice with Morgan, the boyfriend thief.
“That’s right,” Mom says, crossing her arms over her chest, almost like she’s proud that she’s hit a nerve. “Until after Thanksgiving holiday, Lizzie is completely housebound. If I catch her out of the house, the time is extended.”
At this point, she’s not even looking at me. Everyone’s quiet, wondering if there’ll be more or if that’s the end of it. Finally, after seemingly millions of ticks of the clock, Betsey asks, “Can we go?”
Mom nods. We three move toward the doorway, but before we’re in the clear, she speaks again.
“Oh, and I’m taking your cell phone, too.”
I’ve never been angrier in my life: I feel like I could scream down buildings or throw a car or cause a tornado if I was allowed out of the house. I know Ella and Betsey are just as mad as I am, and it’s probably making me madder. I can feel their rage mixing with mine and turning all three of us black inside.
As much as I’ve deceived Mom, it’s nothing compared to what she’s doing to us. I pace like a lion in a cage, and consider confronting her with what I know. Then I realize that doing so right now will only make it worse. I’m trapped in the house: She can easily lie to me and extend my punishment. And this weekend, Betsey will talk to Petra. So instead of saying anything, I vow to find out what’s going on once and for all.