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“Here we go again,” I mutter to myself. “Where are you going this time?”
I follow, realizing after a few minutes that we’re tracing the path back to the office.
“You’re going to be late for work!” I say aloud, annoyed at her. The cell rings; it’s Home.
“You’re late,” Betsey says.
“I know, sorry,” I say. “I’m following Mom.”
“Really?” Bet asks, her voice going up a little. “To the hospital?”
“No, I saw her leaving and was going to take the chance when she’s at work to check out that office, but she’s driving there instead. In fact, wait, hold on a sec.” I put down the phone so I can use two hands to pull into a space. “Okay, I’m back. I had to park. She’s going in now.”
I watch and tell Betsey as Mom pulls keys from her purse and unlocks the door. She goes in, and I wait.
“What’s happening now?” Bet asks five minutes later, after growing tired of hearing about how cute Sean was in class today.
“Still nothing,” I say.
“What, she’s just hanging out in there?”
“I guess,” I say, sighing.
“Well, come back,” she says. “I’m going to be late for class.”
“Fine,” I say, shaking my head. We hang up, and I’m about to turn the key in the ignition when I decide to go try to look inside. If Mom catches me, she’ll be mad, but no madder than she is already.
I hop out and jog across the street, then hug the side of the building. When I’m in front, I get such a surge of nervousness that I consider turning back, but something keeps me going forward. I walk in my mom’s footsteps up the stairs and cup my hands so I can peer in the window next to the front door. Part of me thinks she’s going to be standing there, staring out. Thankfully, she’s not.
Inside is just an ordinary doctor’s or dentist’s office with a reception desk in front—except that there’s no receptionist, and there are no waiting area chairs or decorations, either. The front room is empty. I look for a few minutes, then decide to leave, but just before I pull away, I see Mom pass by the doorway to the back area. She’s reading something, moving from the left side of the building to the right side, engrossed. She has a pen in her mouth, and she looks like she’s… working? Except that she’s not at the hospital. And she’s no longer wearing her scrubs.
Confused, I back away and jog to the car, looking over my shoulder every so often to make sure Mom’s not watching me. Distractedly, I make one stop before I go home. Then I drive back to the house even faster. When I arrive, I burst through the front door and call for Betsey and Ella. Ella appears from the direction of the kitchen; Betsey looks down at me curiously from the balcony.
“Mom’s not an ER doctor,” I say, out of breath for seemingly no reason. “Someone’s paying her twenty thousand dollars every month and it’s sure as hell not Memorial Hospital.”
The others are speechless for a few moments. Then finally, Ella speaks.
“Huh,” she says, looking stupefied. “I guess I was wrong about the watering-plants thing, then?”
“Yeah,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I guess you were.”
fifteen
At noon on Saturday, we three are scattered around the rec room talking in circles. Mom said she was working a double shift—which means she’s probably at her secret office—but wherever she is, I’m glad that the house and the day are ours.
“So, are we going to confront her about it?” Ella asks, looking uneasy about her own question. She went along with the whole Sean thing, but I think that in general, deep down, she’s afraid of change. Plus she’s dating Dave, so her life has actually improved lately.
“She’ll probably just lie,” Betsey says, putting her feet up on the coffee table. “I mean, she’s lied to us for years about her job—”
“And about where her money comes from,” I interject.
“Right,” Bet says, “so what’s to stop her from just lying her way out of this?” She pauses. “I wish that girl from Twinner would get back to me. I mean, what if it’s really Beth? If we had that to throw at Mom—if we could catch her in that lie—then she’d be forced to tell us the rest.”
“I think the Twinner thing’s a coincidence,” Ella says. “I think she’s just a girl who happens to look sort of like us.”
“Exactly like us,” Betsey corrects her.
