Page 165 of The Originals


Font Size:  

“You have every right not to,” she says sadly. “But I’m going to keep trying to make it up to you. And in the meantime, can we have a truce?” Her voice catches and she coughs. “Can we be more open with each other?”

“I guess,” I say.

“All right,” Mom says. “It’s a start.” She stands up from the table and takes a step toward the door, but not before smoothing down my hair. I want to pull away, but I don’t; as much as I hate so many things she’s done, I don’t hate the affection.

“The hair,” she says. “I like it.”

I turn in my chair and look at her; she has tears in her eyes but she sniffs them away. “The blue suits you.”

After she’s gone, when I walk through the entryway and catch a glimpse of myself, I take comfort in knowing that she was right about something, at least. And as she said, it’s a start.

thirty-one

My part is no longer first half.

Student government, chemistry, trigonometry, psychology, Spanish, dance, and creative writing are all mine to love or loathe, to pass or fail.

“Ready for this?” Sean asks the morning of my first day back. We’re in the student lot; we drove together in Sean’s car. It’s crisp and bright outside, and I’m wearing an outfit that I picked out by myself. My hair is sleek, and despite my nervousness, I’m smiling.

“I think so,” I say, grabbing Sean’s hand. As we make our way toward the school, we get a lot of attention from other kids. Maybe it’s because we’re still a new couple; maybe it’s because of my makeover. Most likely, it’s a bit of both. Little do they know that what’s changed is so much more than my hair.

When our reflections show up on the outside of the glass near the doors, Sean says quietly, “You know you look ridiculously hot, right?” My stomach flips; I squeeze his hand.

“I adore you,” I say, “and not just for the compliments.”

Dave looks surprised by my appearance in student government, but he otherwise leaves me alone, which is just fine by me. Chemistry and trigonometry are less nightmarish than I expected; between trig and psych, I run into Alison in the hallway.

“Elizabeth, your hair is awesome!” she says, smiling brightly.

“Thanks!” I say back. “Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”

“Ugh, the usual,” she says, shrugging. “Turkey, family drama, forced board games. How about you?”

“It was pretty uneventful,” I say. “Hey, let’s get coffee again sometime soon.”

“Anytime!” Alison says, her face brightening.

“How about today?” I ask. She looks surprised.

“What about cheer?” she asks. “Don’t you have practice?”

“I’m quitting,” I say, trying to look disappointed. “I pulled a muscle in my calf that won’t heal if I keep cheering. Plus my mom’s making me get a tutor. Apparently I suck at science.”

“Not as much as I do!” she says, laughing. “Well, I’m sorry about your leg—and the tutor—but I’m glad you’ll have more time to hang out. Meet you after school by your locker?”

“It’s a plan.” I turn to go, then look back. “Hey, Alison?”

She looks at me expectantly. “Yeah?”

“My friends call me Lizzie,” I say. “I hope you will, too.”

When I get home from school, Ella and Mom are in the living room together. I catch a snippet of the conversation: Ella’s talking about her new school.

“… just so much more challenging, in a good way,” she says.

“You’ve always been my overachiever,” Mom says, smiling warmly.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like