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“So fun,” Ella says, stars in her eyes. She looks how I feel.
“That’s nice,” Mom says. “What time did you get home?”
“Eleven,” Ella replies. Mom eyes her skeptically. “Fine, twelve.”
Really, I’m probably the only one who knows that Ella sauntered in closer to one. It was long after Bet went to bed. I only know because it was then that I was walking Sean up to the gate, laughing at his dramatic story of how he scaled it like a pro before he called me from the front porch.
Betsey was right: He really did take some ballsy pills last night.
I drop my chin so Mom won’t notice my giddiness.
Mom asks about the decorations and the other kids’ costumes, and while Ella describes everything in detail, I am horrified to hear a noise from upstairs. Our communal cell is on the counter behind Mom; the spy phone in my bedroom is ringing.
I look at Ella; she notices it, too. I see a flash of panic in her eyes before she blinks it away. Slowly, she stands with her still half-full plate and walks through the kitchen, still talking. Mom interrupts.
“Ella, you need to finish your eggs, at least,” she says, eyes following her. Then, “I think your phone’s ringing.” Just when Mom starts to look at the spot where we usually plug in our cell—where it is, in fact, plugged in right now—Betsey squeals.
“Oh my god!” she says. Mom jumps and looks at Betsey, surprised.
“What?” Mom asks.
“There’s a mouse!” Betsey shouts, pointing in the direction of the living room, away from the phone. While Mom looks for the rodent Ella takes the opportunity to grab the phone and shove it in her pants pocket. I sigh quietly, relieved.
“Where?” Mom says, staring wide-eyed in the direction Bet pointed.
“It was right over… oh.” Betsey fakes embarrassment. “Whoops.”
“What?” Mom says. “What now?”
“I think it was just Lizzie’s fuzzy slipper.”
“For goodness’ sake, Betsey, you scared me!” Mom says.
“I really thought it was a mouse,” Bet says, shrugging.
Mom joins Ella at the sink. “Now that that’s settled, I’m going out to get groceries before work. Anyone want to come?” She looks at us individually, expectantly. I feel guilty for not wanting to go, and impatient for her to leave. Ella agrees to ride along; Betsey tells Ella to bring her back a latte; and I manage to stay downstairs until the door shuts behind Mom. Then I race up to my bedroom.
“My mom almost found out about the spy phone!” I say the second Sean answers. I’m a ball of nervous energy.
“No way,” Sean says. “Sorry about that.”
“It rang up here when our real phone was plugged in downstairs,” I say. “Close one. We have to be careful.”
“Totally. Sorry.”
“No worries,” I say. “So, what’re you doing today?”
“That’s actually why I was calling,” he says. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over and hang out this afternoon. You know, after your mom leaves for work.” He pauses a second. “I’m sure my mom would love to meet you.”
“You told your mom about me?”
“Of course,” Sean says easily. Sometimes it shocks me how grown-up he seems: He’s not intimidated by or embarrassed about anything like a lot of the other guys at school. Compared to David, Sean’s a man.
“That’s really sweet,” I say softly.
“Thanks,” he says, and we both get quiet. Then: “I mean, I didn’t tell her everything. I didn’t tell her about Ella and Betsey, even though I really still think that we should do some—”
“Sean?” I interrupt.
