The Originals

The Originals Page 17

When the credits roll, Dave and I leave and go to the massive two-story bookstore and browse. I make a beeline to the music section; Dave follows. As we walk the aisles, he interviews me like he’s a journalist. Ella warned me that he likes to play Twenty Questions.

“What’s your middle name?”

“Violet.”

“Pretty,” he says, nodding his approval.

“When’s your birthday?” he continues. “You know mine from that thing in government, but when it was your turn, the bell rang.”

“January thirtieth,” I say.

“That’s coming up,” he says. “Noted.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me in this totally cheesy way that makes me want to frown; I force myself to smile. The questions continue. “Do you have any pets?”

“No, do you?” I ask, attempting to turn the tables.

“No,” he says. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Bacon.”

This makes Dave laugh so loudly that people three aisles over turn to look. When it goes on for a few seconds, I start to feel like he’s making fun of me.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Bacon’s just not… I meant more like your favorite kind of food.”

“Any kind with bacon,” I say before putting on earphones to sample a just-released CD. This forces Dave to stop with the questioning. I listen and watch him wander; he looks a little lost without me to talk to. As I’m trying to figure him out it hits me: He hasn’t figured himself out yet. Trying to act casual, he strolls down a couple of aisles before he ends up near the stairs that lead to the second level. I watch him pause, turn, and gesture that he’s going up, coincidentally to the beat of the song playing in my ears. I nod, then point to my ears to tell him I’m going to keep listening. When he disappears from view, I feel free: I hum along and tap my thumbs on the CD cover I’m holding. The title track ends and a ballad begins, and someone taps on my shoulder. I turn around to find Sean in dark jeans and a black shirt, his hair wilder than usual. He looks at me excitedly; he’s holding the same CD in his hands.

I rip the earphones from my ears.

“Hi!” I say, wide-eyed and smiling.

“Hi,” he says back, looking almost as happy to see me as I am to see him. “It’s good, isn’t it?” he says, pointing to the CD case.

“Amazing.” I nod before casually glancing in the direction of the stairs.

Sean takes a step toward me and looks into my eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about you all weekend,” he says. “I wanted to call you, but I didn’t know if your mom would answer…. I can’t believe we just ran into each other like this.”

Another nervous glance at the stairs.

“I know,” I say. “It’s crazy.”

“Want to get coffee or something?”

Another glance, and this time, he notices.

“Are you here with someone? Is it your mom?”

“No,” I say. “I mean, yes, I’m here with someone. No, it’s not my—”

“Hey, Kelly,” Dave says as he walks up from the opposite direction. I see signs for an elevator over his head; of course he would come down that way. Dave stops right next to me, a little too close.

“What’s up, Chancellor,” Sean says. “Popular place.”

“Guess so.” Dave looks at me. “Are you ready to go?”

Even though I only glance at Sean, I see it: unfiltered jealousy. His eyes have clouded over; his dark eyebrows are knitted together like he’s ready to take down the villain on his superhero planet. Except it’s possible that right now the villain is me.

“You two came here together?” he asks, just to be sure. He looks at my dress accusingly.

“Yep,” Dave says, stepping closer to me as if to mark his territory. I want to shove him away, but I think better of it. Mom’s letting us date. It’s a step in the right direction. If I mess this up, she’ll never let us do it again.

And besides, Ella would kill me.

“I’m ready,” I say. Dave turns to lead me out of the store. I put back the CD, and take a step away from Sean. “See you in class,” I say quietly. There’s nothing else to say.

Apparently, Sean agrees; he turns and walks away.

eleven

“Tell me about it again,” Ella says at breakfast Monday morning. I wish she’d be more sensitive: She knows that the date ended with Dave and me running into Sean. The thought makes me sick.

“El, I told you everything yesterday when I got home,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Twice.” I’m still in pajamas; Mom was out running errands when I got up.

“You might’ve forgotten something,” she says. “Let’s just go over it again. I’m going to see him in less than an hour!”

Though I’m sure she knows the date backward and forward already, right down to little facts like the way he watched the entire movie with just his left foot up on the armrest in front of him, but not his right, I tell her again between bites of cereal, swallowing hard every time Sean enters my mind. Betsey must know what I’m thinking, because she chimes in when I pause too long—she’s already memorized the details, too.

“But he didn’t try to kiss you?” Ella asks when I’m finished. “Just the hug?” She looks a little defensive. Jealous. And why wouldn’t she be? Someone who looks just like her stole her movie date.

“Just the hug,” I reassure her.

“Show me how he did it,” Ella says, standing from the table. She moves tentatively like she’s not sure her twisted ankle is going to support her: It does. I look at her with my mouth open.

“You want me to do a hug reenactment?” I ask, laughing a little. She nods, smiling like a crazy person. I have that exact smile in my arsenal; I rarely use it, but when I glance at Betsey, I see that she’s mirroring Ella’s face exactly. It’s a little creepy. “I’m totally not hugging you,” I say, laughing again. “Not like that.”

“Do it,” Ella says. “Come on!”

“Ella!” I say. “You know what a hug feels like. It was just a hug.” It’s impossible not to think of Sean’s arms around me on Friday night. That was a hug.

“Fine,” she says, tsking and looking at me with a stern expression as she grabs her plate and takes it to the sink. Despite her hesitation a second ago, she’s walking normally; Mom cleared her to go to school. “I guess I’ll just have to try to get him to hug me again.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem for you,” Betsey says, her mouth full.

“Definitely not,” Ella says dreamily.

I glance at the clock, wondering when Mom will be back.

“Hey, you guys?” I say. “I need to talk to you about something.” I’m thinking about it so much that I actually dreamed about Mom’s secret office last night; I know I need to tell them about it. I wanted to do it sooner, but Mom had a very rare day off yesterday and she was home from the time I got back from the movies with Dave until we went to sleep last night. Maybe she even slept all night in her own bed for once. This is my first chance to talk to Ella and Betsey alone.