Page 141 of The Originals


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“I know, it’s a lame idea,” he says, blowing on his hands.

Like the last survivors on an alien planet, a group of students huddled together walks by the front of the car. They’re so bundled in beanie hats and big coats, you can barely see their faces. I shiver just thinking of getting out; Sean touches the dial on the heat again, but it’s already up all the way.

“It’s freaking frigid,” Sean says. “We need coats.”

“But we’re here,” I say, gesturing to the building.

“Yeah, but we’re going to stick out like a sore thumb. I’m going out on a limb here, but I’m pretty sure Ella and Betsey aren’t just waiting to greet us in the lobby. We’re going to have to look around a little. We need to seem like we belong here.”

I glance down at my light cardigan. And my flats with no socks.

“What if they go somewhere else by the time we get back?” I ask.

“Then we’ll track them again,” Sean says, smiling warmly. “Lizzie, it’s taken us an entire night to get here; what’s another half hour?” When he sees my face, he sighs. “How about if I run in and take a quick look around the lobby—just to make sure they really aren’t sitting there, waiting for us?”

“Will you?” I ask.

In response, Sean pulls his hood over his head and opens the door. The kind of cold I’ve never felt before rushes into the car and pricks my exposed skin. Sean slams the door and runs across the sidewalk to the entrance; he’s inside less than two minutes.

“There’s a guy behind a reception desk, but there’s no one else in the lobby,” he reports when he’s back in the driver’s seat. His cheeks are red from mere seconds spent in the cold. “The good news is that the guy didn’t see me; the bad news is that there’s a sign on the desk that says ‘ID REQUIRED.’ ”

“How are we going to get in?” I ask.

“I have no idea,” Sean says, “but we’ll think of something. But first… coats. We need coats.”

We drive into the main part of town and stop at a discount store that happens to be open until noon. I toss a Bramsford University sweatshirt into the cart while Sean goes to find gloves. We both pick winter coats with hoods; mine has faux-fur lining. Sean pays using a credit card.

“Your mom is going to freak out,” I say.

“No, she’s not,” he says. “I’ve talked to her twice, and she’s okay.”

“You have?” I ask. He nods.

“You were asleep,” he says. Then, “I didn’t tell her everything, but I told her a lot.”

“And she’s… okay with you just taking off?”

“Well, no, she’s pissed, but she cares more that I’m safe,” he says. “That you’re safe, too.” Sean looks at me seriously. “She wanted to call the police and let them handle it; I had to talk her out of it. But if we’re not on the way back by tomorrow…”

“I get it,” I say.

“And even then, we’ve got some explaining to do when we’re back.”

I think of Harper, and how she’s the opposite of my mom. Harper is trusting, yet concerned; my mom is overbearing and self-absorbed. All Harper does is love and care for Sean, while, apparently, my mom is basically a stalker. And maybe a kidnapper, too.

Sean and I grab breakfast sandwiches from the food stand in the discount store, then get in the car and head back to Bramsford. We look like we fit in, but jealous of Sean’s family, left alone by my own, I’ve never felt more like an outcast in my life.

twenty-seven

Sean and I park in the student lot next to the dorm this time around, thinking that emerging from the visitor section will only increase our likelihood of being stopped. It’s a good idea except that the back window of Sean’s car is very obviously missing a hot-pink student-parking sticker.

“They’re not going to tow it on Thanksgiving,” he says, locking the car. I try to burrow deeper into my hood, if that’s possible; the wind here is arctic.

“You’re mighty confident, you know that?”

He shrugs, then takes my gloved hand in his. “Remember the plans?”

“Plan A: You say that you lost your ID and hope the desk guy is feeling charitable today,” I say. “Plan B: We sneak attack up the back stairwell when he’s not looking.”

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