The Originals 2

“I’d be lying if I said the thought hasn’t crossed my mind,” Ella says, folding her arms over her chest, “but I’d never do it. We made a pact.”

“When we were kids,” Betsey says, and I can tell she’s on my side.

“Still,” Ella says, “we could get Mom into serious trouble. And if she goes to jail, what happens to us? Mom’s parents are dead—we have no family. Do we go into foster care? Or does the government take us into custody and examine us like lab rats for the rest of our lives? I just don’t think it’s worth it.”

“You watch too much TV,” I say, smiling a little to ease the tension. “And besides, those things would only be a concern if Sean told someone else. Which he wouldn’t.”

“You hardly know him,” Ella says. “How do you know you can trust him? That we can trust him?”

“I just know.” I can’t help but smile because it’s the truth. “I just have this feeling; I’m positive that he’ll keep our secret.” I pause, searching the faces that I know by heart because they’re copies of my own. “I want to tell him, both for him and for me. I want to let him in.”

We’re all quiet for a few moments; the house creaks like it’s joining the conversation. In the end, there are no more words spoken. But the look on Betsey’s face, then the subtle nod from Ella, tell me that tonight at this haphazard meeting in the dark hallway, we three have made a major decision for ourselves for perhaps the first time in our lives. I know without words that they’re okay with it.

We’re telling Sean; we’re letting someone else in.

And we’re doing it whether Mom likes it or not.

thirteen

“What are you doing right now?” I ask, blocking Sean’s path out of the classroom. My phone’s in my hand, the email from Betsey still on the screen.

She left early. You’re in the clear.

“Standing in the aisle,” he says jokingly, but it comes out a little too sarcastic. I know he’s still confused: He was standoffish all period. I’m so nervous I think I might get sick.

I take a deep breath. “What I meant was: What are you doing after school?”

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah, I figured.” He pulls his backpack onto his shoulder and glances at the door: We’re the only people left in the classroom. “I’m probably just going home. Why?”

“I wanted to ask you…” I say, confidence seeping out of me with every passing second. I had it all planned out earlier, before I was actually standing in front of him. “I… do you want to come to my house for a little while? I still want to talk to you, and I need to… show you something.”

“At your house?” he asks, still confused, but curious, too. It calms me a bit.

“At my house.” I nod once.

“Don’t you have cheer?” he asks.

I force a cough. “I’m sick.”

“Okay, sure,” Sean says, smiling. “Lead the way.”

“This is where you live?” Sean asks, squinting down into the forest fortress twenty minutes later. His car is parked out on the main road and he’s next to me in the sedan just outside the gate. All you can see from up here is a small part of the roof.

“I don’t like Dave,” I say, ignoring his question.

Sean glances at me and says, “It’s none of my business.” I hope it’s just a defense mechanism; the aloofness bothers me.

“Do you seriously feel that way?” I ask quietly, eyes on the gate. “Because if you do, then—”

“No,” he interrupts. He looks away, out the window at nothing. “You’re making me crazy.”

“Good,” I say, smiling. “I mean, not good, but good that you… care.”

“I care.”

“Okay.”

I inhale deeply and blow it out. Then I punch the buttons to open the gate.

“So, as I was saying, I don’t like Dave,” I reiterate as I navigate the driveway with less fear than usual. “I mean, he’s nice enough, but I don’t like him in that way.” Pause. Say it. “I like you.”

I look at Sean and catch his half smile as he looks down at his hands. Then his eyes are on mine. “Then what’s with hanging out with him?”

“That’s one of the things I want to try to explain,” I say, parking in front of the garage. I turn off the car; he looks at me, ready to listen. “Not here,” I say. “Not in the car, I mean. We have to go inside. But I’m just warning you, I’m going to tell you some strange stuff. Your normal day ends now.”

Sean smiles at me like he did that night at the game. “I think I can handle it.”

I pause on the porch, thinking of all that’s about to change. Wondering for a beat if I’m doing the right thing, then remembering how confidently I told Ella and Betsey that we can trust Sean. Because we can; I know we can. And I wasn’t kidding when I said that I needed to tell him for me, too. I need to get my life back, a step at a time. Step one: Grab the door handle. I push through, my heart thumping hard in my chest.

“Come in,” I say quietly.

He walks tentatively into the house and immediately looks up. It’s hard not to do: The soaring ceiling with the colossal crystal chandelier in the center is attention grabbing, to say the least. Sean’s eyes travel up the grand staircase and across the balcony until they meet walls where the bedrooms are. I watch as they continue to meander up, up, and up.

I clear my throat.

“Sorry,” he says, eyes on me now. “But your house is sweet.”

“Thanks,” I say, kicking off my shoes. Sean copies me, and I start up the stairs. “Let’s go.”

I pause on the second step from the top. I know that they know we’re coming—their nervousness is making mine snowball. I turn to face Sean; he’s two steps behind me, so I’m taller than him. “Ready?” I ask.

“Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out.” My face must look as worried as I feel, because he grabs my hand. “Hey,” he whispers, “I’m fine.”

I nod, then turn and finish the climb, still holding his hand. The double doors to the rec room are open; Ella and Betsey are sitting on opposite couches. They both turn to look at us.

“Hi, you two,” Betsey says warmly. Ella waves stiffly.

“Hi,” I say back before glancing at Sean. His eyes float from face to face. As planned, we’re all in different clothes, but still, I’m sure it’s a lot to take in.

“Are you guys triplets or something?” he asks, following me into the rec room after I tug a little on his hand. Ella laughs and it’s higher pitched than usual. Sean and I sit down in the open chairs.

“No,” I say, “at least not anymore.” Sean looks at me funny; I gesture to the others. “That’s Betsey, and this is Ella.” They both smile at him, and I wonder if it seems like he’s looking at two copies of me. It makes me feel the opposite of special.

Average.

But I force myself to get over it and do what I brought him here to do. “Sean, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just go for it,” I say, sitting up a little straighter. He looks at me again.