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I stop walking and face him. “Hey,” I say, grabbing his arm so he stops, too. He turns and brushes a stray piece of hair out of my eyes. I think of how before I met Sean and saw what real life looked like, I was actually okay with my situation. It’s like he held up a mirror in front of me and I didn’t like what I saw.
“I’m glad you’re in my life,” I say.
Sean wraps me in a hug and murmurs in my ear.
“I’ll stay as long as you let me.”
By the time Betsey’s class is over, Sean’s up to speed on the break-in plan and has a list of items to get to help with the mission, ranging from the practical, like his camera, to the somewhat ridiculous, like a laser pointer.
“Why on earth would we need a laser pointer?” I ask.
“I have no idea,” Sean says, “but it just seems cool to have one.”
I giggle to myself about how when I first met Sean, I thought he looked like an off-duty superhero; now I think that sometimes he acts like one, too.
He walks me back to the car and kisses me once more just before Betsey emerges from the building.
“Oh, hey, I almost forgot, I brought you a replacement spy phone.” He turns and jogs to his car, retrieves a package, and jogs back.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the paper bag from him. “I guess I’ll have to find a better hiding spot.”
“Yeah, well,” he says, half smiling. “I brought you three more, just in case.”
When Betsey and I pull off the main road and stop at the gate, we’re still excitedly talking over each other about the office break-in plan and what we might hope to find. Betsey jokes about Mom being a janitor while I type in the code and wait for the gate to open. I take my foot off the brake and start easing down the driveway, and just as I do, I notice a car parked down the lane like the time after Sean’s when I came home because Mom was here. The car is obscured by trees before I have time to mention it to Betsey, but for some reason, it bugs me long into the night.
twenty-five
A little over a week later, I wake up like I’ve been shot with adrenaline. Today’s the day. At some point in the next twelve hours, I’m going to break into my mother’s office and discover what she’s been hiding. Then Betsey, Ella, and I will confront her at last. Everyone’s home from school and “work” for Thanksgiving break, and we have five whole days ahead of us to hash things out.
Today’s the day we get our lives back.
The only thing is that we’re not exactly sure when or how to do it.
The idea is that one of us will find a reason to go out. Our last-resort scenario is that at Mom’s busiest moment—like when she has her hands in a turkey—Betsey will say she needs Advil for cramps and is too sick to drive. I, as Ella, will volunteer to go out, then we’ll all pray like hell Mom buys the switch.
It’s weak, but after going through what felt like hundreds of even weaker options, we decided it was the best. But I think all three of us are hoping that some better opportunity will naturally present itself.
Betsey, Ella, and I congregate in the rec room after breakfast. Mom’s awake but in her office downstairs; I haven’t seen her yet this morning. Ella turns on the TV; none of us watches. Instead, we three spend the passing minutes giving one another meaningful glances. Waiting for something to happen. I’m dressed in Ella’s favorite cardigan and flats, and Ella’s wearing my new captivity uniform: faded jeans and a gray hoodie. She has stick-straight hair and her legs are folded under her; she’s sitting on my side of the couch.
Because I’m facing the hallway, I see Mom in the doorway before the others do. My anger pumps through my veins, but I shove it away, thinking: What would Ella do?
“Hi, Mom,” I say brightly. She smiles.
“Good morning, girls.”
I glance at Ella, who’s deliberately not looking at Mom. She’s scowling, and on her face, I see the me I’ve become.
“I’m going to shower and then head out to brave the grocery store,” Mom says. “Our turkey is ready for pickup and I need to get everything else before the lines are too long. Anyone want to come?”
“I’m in the middle of a book,” I say, patting the hardcover on the side table next to me. “Sorry.”
I could be wrong, but I think I glimpse something funny in Mom’s eyes, like maybe she’s not buying it. But instead of asking me why I’m wearing Ella’s clothes, she looks at Betsey.
“I have cramps,” Bet groans, setting us up nicely for the Hail Mary scenario in case we need it later. Finally, Mom’s eyes fall on Ella.
I hold my breath.
