Page 110 of The Originals


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He smiles warmly. “I’ll take the bus back home,” he says. “I need to get pizza for my mom, and you should go face the music. I think you’ll feel better afterward.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Sean leans back into the car and kisses me on the cheek. “I’m right,” he says before turning and walking away.

My stomach is in knots the whole way back up the hill. When I pull off the main road, I stop before I get to the gate to calm myself. There’s another car idling down the secluded lane; it’s probably one of our neighbors, and I’m sure they’re wondering what it is I’m doing.

I let the possible conversation play out in my mind:

Where have you been?

Out with a friend. Where have you been every night for the past… forever?

What do you mean?

Mom, I know about your office. I know you’re not a doctor. Where is that twenty grand coming from every month? And what do you do at night? Oh, and PS, is the Original still alive?

“Okay,” I say to myself in the rearview mirror. I take a deep breath and blow it out. “You can do this.”

I put the car into drive and cruise down the driveway, then park in our usual spot. I don’t waste any time getting out and heading inside; I don’t want to lose my nerve.

In the entryway, I stand alone, listening. Waiting. There’s a TV on in the rec room; the foyer and dining room are dim. I can tell from the glow through the doorway that only the under-cabinet lights are on: Nobody’s in the kitchen.

Tentatively, I kick off my flats. I turn and lock the front door as quietly as I can. Then, holding my breath, I tiptoe up the stairs. I peek around the corner to the rec room; no one’s there, but there’s a soda on the table and a book facedown on the arm of one of the couches. I turn and look down the hall; Mom’s bedroom light is on, but her door’s closed. In about four strides, I slip into Ella’s room, carefully shutting the door behind me. I jump when the phone buzzes in my hand. The caller ID says Home; it must be Ella. I answer without saying hello.

“You made it,” she whispers.

“I did.”

“Okay, change into pj’s; I’ll come to my room and we can switch. Your bed sucks.”

I laugh quietly. “See you in a sec.”

My heart is still racing: I feel like Mom’s going to step out of the shadows at any moment. I inch my way to Ella’s closet in the dark and step inside, turning on the light only when the door’s closed. Hastily, I change into sweats and a T-shirt, leaving my clothes in a crumpled mess on the floor. When I’m searching for socks, the closet door opens.

“It’s just me,” Ella says, palms up. “Sorry.”

“I think I just had a heart attack,” I say, sighing. Then, “What the hell is she doing home?”

“I have no idea,” she says, taking off my favorite sleep T-shirt while I hand over hers. “Bet came in after they talked and she said Mom was acting really weird. Asking what we did today. I guess she asked when I was going to be home like three times.”

“Maybe she knows we know,” I say.

“Or maybe she knows about Sean and she’s checking up on us.”

“This is getting insane,” I say, grabbing a rubber band from a hook and tying back my hair like Ella’s. “I mean, she’s starting to act like a prison warden, don’t you think?”

Ella just shrugs, but it’s weak. I know she agrees with me.

“Sean thinks we should tell someone,” I say.

“Like who? The police or something?”

“I think he meant his mom, but just someone,” I say. “He’s worried about us.”

“Are you sure he’s not just interested in seeing you more often?” Ella says. It comes off as a little defensive; she changes the subject. “Oh, hey, Bet said that Petra scanned some of her baby pictures. I guess it’s freakish how much she looked like us. She said she sent her school picture, too.”

“Bet seems pretty positive that she’s Beth,” I say.

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