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“We’re old enough to wait tables,” I say carefully.
“And drive,” Ella adds, her tone measured.
“And fly an airplane, at least as a student flier,” Bet jokes. We all look at her like she’s lost it. “What?” she says, laughing. “It looks fun!”
“I think the point we’re trying to make is that we’re growing up, Mom,” I say, looking her right in the brown eyes that I always felt I inherited despite being made from someone else’s DNA. “We’re not little girls anymore.”
My words hang in the air until Mom sighs them away. She stands up and moves some plates to the sink, not talking while she does it. It’s tense in the room, but I do my best to remain unruffled—I know it’s helping Betsey stay that way, too.
Finally, Mom speaks. “There would be several nonnegotiable conditions,” she says slowly. I don’t want to send her back to “no,” but silly Ella rushes over and hugs Mom’s shoulders. Mom hugs back for a moment, then gently pries Ella’s arms loose. “I haven’t agreed yet,” she says.
“Let her talk,” I say to Ella; she nods.
“What are the conditions?” Betsey asks, slouching lower into her chair and picking at a freezer waffle on a serving dish.
“Well,” Mom says, stalling like she’s making up rules on the fly. “The necklace must be worn at all times, as usual.”
We all agree; that’s a given.
“You’ll have a curfew of ten o’clock and—”
“Uh, Mom?” I interrupt. “That’s a little early, don’t you think?”
“Eighth graders stay out later than that,” Betsey says.
“Seriously,” Ella adds, and she does look pretty serious about it.
“Fine,” Mom says. “Eleven.”
I bite my cheek to keep from smiling like I’ve been asked to appear on a dancing reality show.
But then Mom’s eyes cloud over. “I’m not sure what to do about…” Her words trail off and she twists her face in that way that she does when she’s considering something. I want to ask what she means, but I’m afraid to say anything. “Everyone thinks there’s only one Elizabeth, so obviously you can only date one boy. I’m not sure how to make it fair.”
“Straws?” Betsey offers. “Like our rooms?”
“This is a little more important than bedroom assignments,” Mom says, frowning. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s all just too complicated. Maybe you should wait another—”
“You pick the guy,” Betsey blurts out. Ella and I both look at her, eyes wide with surprise.
“You can’t be serious,” I say to her.
“Actually, it’s a good idea,” Mom says. “Who you date matters. We don’t want anyone you’re associated with drawing attention to our situation. I think Betsey’s suggestion is a great one.”
“But how would that even work?” Ella says. She looks as sick as I feel. Secrets or not, it seems wrong not to be able to just date who I want.
“Hmm… I guess you three can each pick a boy, and tell me a little about him, and then I’ll take a day or two to decide,” she says, smiling like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Fair?”
Not at all.
No one answers, so Mom continues. “Let me know when you’ve all figured out who you’d like to submit.”
“David Chancellor,” Ella blurts out.
Mom stifles a laugh. “Well, then,” she says, walking back to the table and grabbing the pencil she’d probably been using for the crossword. She writes David’s name on a corner of the newspaper.
“Lizzie?” she asks, looking up at me.
