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“I have a million answers,” I say. “Go for it.”
“Okay,” he says, turning a corner and turning down the radio. Then, noticing me shiver, he apologizes and rolls up the windows. “Was Ella in creative writing this year? At first?” He glances at me and I smile.
“Good eye,” I say. “I failed a trig quiz and Mom made us switch. My first day was the day I fainted.”
“I thought so,” he says. “You were so much cooler after that day.” He pauses, then adds, “I mean, not that Ella’s not cool.”
“No, it’s okay,” I say. “I get it. Thank you.”
“Sure,” he says. “So my next question is: Why didn’t your mom just move to another country when you were babies? Why’d she stay in the U.S.?”
“She’s not some international spy or something,” I say, laughing. “She probably just wanted to stay in the country she knew. I think she really thought hiding us in plain sight would work.”
“I see,” he says, pulling onto the freeway. He thinks for a second. “Okay, what about your system: Why do you split each day in thirds instead of just doing every third day?”
“We tried that once; it didn’t work,” I say. “It was too hard to keep up on classes if we were only in them every third day. And South had block scheduling, so that made it really hard. This works better.”
Sean pauses before firing off another question. “So, what’s it like?” he asks finally. “Looking exactly like two other people?”
The question is one I’ve never been asked, not even when I was young. It’s complicated.
“Well, it’s equal parts wonderful and horrible,” I say.
“What’s good about it?”
“The connection.” I smile. “We’re really close, and not just emotionally. We’re on one another’s wavelengths. We can feel strong feelings from the other ones, and sometimes we even have the same dreams.”
“That’s so cool,” he says. I nod.
“Sometimes, yes,” I say. “Like if I’m in a bad mood, they just know. They can feel what I feel. They don’t have to ask. It’s nice to be understood like that.”
“What about the bad parts?” Sean asks as he takes a hard turn. I realize that we’re near the water now.
“I think it’s made worse by the fact that we’re sharing one life, but the bad side of looking like two other people is feeling like I don’t have my own identity at all. Like there’s nothing unique about me.”
I pause, remembering what Sean said earlier.
“I agree with you, you know,” I say. “About how my life is messed up.”
“I figured,” he says as he pulls into a beach lot. He parks the car and turns off the ignition. He turns to me and grabs my hand. “Listen, Lizzie, I’m not going to pretend that I’m not completely floored by what you told me this afternoon. I’m going to have a lot more questions—and I gotta be honest: I don’t know her, but I think your mom is off the rails.”
“That’s okay. You might be right.”
“But I’m glad you told me,” he says quietly. “I’m glad that you’re not just trying to date me and Dave at the same time.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Ella’s dating Dave,” I say. “I hope I’m dating you.”
“I hope I’m dating you, too.”
Sean and I get out, he grabs a bag from the trunk, and we hold hands as we walk across Big Beach. Mid-fall and probably snowing in other parts of the country; here it’s a beautiful late afternoon and a few families and groups of friends are out. There’s even a small circle of wet-suit-clad surfers on the water despite the fact that the waves are surely growing colder.
Our secret out, I’m not weightless like I’d like to be, but I’m not quite as burdened, either. “You know, you’re the only person we’ve ever told,” I say to him.
He looks at me, surprised. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. There’s never been anyone we were close to, except a neighbor in Florida. But we were triplets then… so there was nothing to tell.”
“I’m sorry you haven’t had anyone to share stuff with,” he says, squeezing my hand. “But at the same time, I’m sort of honored to be the first.” He smiles a silly smile. “It’s like I’m the chosen one.”
