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“Well, happy birthday,” Bet says, “and maybe I’ll call you in a few days.” Bet missed it, but Ella heard: I know because her face looks as disappointed as I feel.
“Okay, great!” Petra says. “Have a good afternoon. Bye!”
Bet hangs up and looks at us: It’s not until then that she notices our expressions.
“What?” she asks.
“You really didn’t hear what she said?” Ella asks. “Betsey, she’s sixteen.”
The realization visibly registers; Betsey slumps in the chair.
“But she’s a senior,” she says. “She looks older than us. And she sent me her senior picture. How can she be younger than us?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe she skipped ahead—you said she’s really smart. And you’re right, she does look older. But you don’t need to call her back. If she’s younger, there’s no way she’s Beth. I guess…”
Ella sighs hard and finishes my thought. “It’s over.”
twenty-four
It was only one of several secrets, but for some reason, taking the Original out of the equation also takes the wind from my sails. I guess in some way I was starting to hold out hope: Hope that there was someone sort of like family out there in the world. Hope that if she was living a normal life, we could, too. But all that this exercise with Petra did was remind me of cold, hard reality. I was created in a lab from a dead girl’s DNA. I was created illegally, and because of that, I am destined to be hidden.
For a full forty-eight hours, I stay in bed. I fall into an abyss of depression, not eating, not sleeping, not answering when Sean goes so far as calling the landline, ignoring Ella and Betsey when they ask if I’m okay. Staring at Mom like I can see through her when she comes in to get laundry. Then Monday evening, the others pull me out of it.
I’m lying on my bed, staring at the bugs in my light fixture, commiserating with them because they’re trapped, too, when Ella comes in and flops down next to me.
“Have you actually been wearing that shirt for three days?” she asks.
“Four,” I mutter, still looking at the bugs.
“You’re sort of disgusting,” she says with a small laugh that I don’t reciprocate.
“No reason not to be,” I say.
“Well, actually, yeah, there is,” she says, rolling to her side and propping her head in her hand. “Bet’s got class tonight and Mom’s gone, and I set it up with Sean today. You’re riding along and hanging out with him on campus until class is over.”
I turn my head so sharply I think I pull a muscle in my neck.
“No way,” I say. “Mom would go ballistic if she found out. I’m just stuck here in this cage.”
“No, you’re not,” Ella says. “And she won’t find out. Now come on, I don’t like seeing you like this.” She pauses before adding, “I don’t like smelling you like this.”
This time, I actually do laugh a little.
“Lizzie?” she says seriously. I raise my eyebrows at her. “Bet and I have been talking a lot about what to do since that whole thing with Petra. We’re fed up, and we need answers. We decided the best time to do it would be Thanksgiving holiday, when Mom’s home from work… whatever work is to her.”
“The best time to do what?” I ask.
“Break into that office and see once and for all what she’s doing there,” Ella says. My eyes widen; I mean, I’ve thought of doing it, but coming from Ella, it’s like permission. “One of us will make up a reason to be out of the house, and the other two will keep Mom distracted while the first one breaks in.”
“I’m going,” I say.
“Since you know where the office is and have Sean to help you, that would obviously make the most sense,” Ella says, “but you’re grounded. She’ll never let you leave.”
I can feel the fire returning to my belly; I sit up straight on my bed.
“Then I won’t leave,” I say. “You or Betsey will.”
