The Originals
Page 31

I sit on the couch next to him, and just as I open my mouth to ask about the bag, he speaks first.
“Is your mom going to be home soon?” he asks.
“No. At least I don’t think so.” Automatically, I glance at the doorway.
“Should we go to your room?”
“What?” I ask, blushing full-out this time, which makes Sean look away, embarrassed.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “I was just trying to think of a place we could talk where your mom wouldn’t immediately see us if she came home.”
“There’s only one room in the house she’d never barge in,” I say.
“Which one?”
“The bathroom.”
I make Sean sit on my bed while I toss makeup, eyebrow wax, and tampons into the basket under the sink. When I’ve hidden all my junk, I grab two pillows from the bed and prop them against the wall under the towel rack, between the vanity and the glass shower stall. I’m actually thankful for my mom’s obsessive cleanliness: The floor in here is spotless. I light the vanilla candle on the toilet tank and flip off the light, then let Sean in. Once he’s settled, I make sure my bedroom door is shut, then I shut and lock the bathroom door, too. I sit next to Sean closest to the shower.
“This might be the weirdest date I’ve ever had,” he says, shifting a little to get comfortable on the tile floor.
“It’s for sure the weirdest one I’ve ever had,” I say, thinking that so far, most of my dates have been pretty strange.
“Well, it’s about to get weirder,” he says before grabbing and unzipping his bag. He pulls out a small box and hands it to me. “Can’t have an exclusive Bathroom Halloween Dance without a corsage,” he says when he sees my confused look. I open the box and think at first I’m seeing black roses. Then I realize that it’s dark chocolate.
“You can eat it.” He laughs a little, like he can’t believe he’s giving me a chocolate corsage.
“It’s the best of both worlds,” I say, pulling it out of the box and putting it on my wrist. My cheeks pinch as I try to fight off the biggest smile ever, as I attempt to remain calm. I lean over and take a bite. “It’s both beautiful and delicious!” I chew a chocolate petal. “Want some?”
I hold up my left wrist; Sean takes my hand and my forearm gently in his hands and lifts the corsage to his lips. He takes a bite, eyes on mine, and I’m zapped. We stare at each other for so long that I feel it in every inch of me. I’m sure he’s going to kiss me, but instead, he retrieves from his Date-in-a-Bag several other items, including a long black Elvira wig for me, a seventies Beatles wig for him, several black plastic spider rings, two sets of vampire teeth, Waldo and Wenda hats, and an iPod and a mini speaker station.
He plugs in the mobile sound system and pulls me to my feet. We both put on our disguises and then he gently takes me in his arms. There in my candlelit bathroom, in the space between the toilet and the vanity, me looking like Goth Undead Wenda in Pajamas and him dressed as Ironic Vampire Teen Ringo Starr, I share my first dance with a guy.
And as weird as it is, it’s perfect.
twenty
“How was the dance?” Mom asks at breakfast the next day.
“So fun,” Ella says, stars in her eyes. She looks how I feel.
“That’s nice,” Mom says. “What time did you get home?”
“Eleven,” Ella replies. Mom eyes her skeptically. “Fine, twelve.”
Really, I’m probably the only one who knows that Ella sauntered in closer to one. It was long after Bet went to bed. I only know because it was then that I was walking Sean up to the gate, laughing at his dramatic story of how he scaled it like a pro before he called me from the front porch.
Betsey was right: He really did take some ballsy pills last night.
I drop my chin so Mom won’t notice my giddiness.
Mom asks about the decorations and the other kids’ costumes, and while Ella describes everything in detail, I am horrified to hear a noise from upstairs. Our communal cell is on the counter behind Mom; the spy phone in my bedroom is ringing.
I look at Ella; she notices it, too. I see a flash of panic in her eyes before she blinks it away. Slowly, she stands with her still half-full plate and walks through the kitchen, still talking. Mom interrupts.
“Ella, you need to finish your eggs, at least,” she says, eyes following her. Then, “I think your phone’s ringing.” Just when Mom starts to look at the spot where we usually plug in our cell—where it is, in fact, plugged in right now—Betsey squeals.
“Oh my god!” she says. Mom jumps and looks at Betsey, surprised.
“What?” Mom asks.
“There’s a mouse!” Betsey shouts, pointing in the direction of the living room, away from the phone. While Mom looks for the rodent Ella takes the opportunity to grab the phone and shove it in her pants pocket. I sigh quietly, relieved.
“Where?” Mom says, staring wide-eyed in the direction Bet pointed.
“It was right over… oh.” Betsey fakes embarrassment. “Whoops.”
“What?” Mom says. “What now?”
“I think it was just Lizzie’s fuzzy slipper.”
“For goodness’ sake, Betsey, you scared me!” Mom says.
“I really thought it was a mouse,” Bet says, shrugging.
Mom joins Ella at the sink. “Now that that’s settled, I’m going out to get groceries before work. Anyone want to come?” She looks at us individually, expectantly. I feel guilty for not wanting to go, and impatient for her to leave. Ella agrees to ride along; Betsey tells Ella to bring her back a latte; and I manage to stay downstairs until the door shuts behind Mom. Then I race up to my bedroom.
“My mom almost found out about the spy phone!” I say the second Sean answers. I’m a ball of nervous energy.
“No way,” Sean says. “Sorry about that.”
“It rang up here when our real phone was plugged in downstairs,” I say. “Close one. We have to be careful.”
“Totally. Sorry.”
“No worries,” I say. “So, what’re you doing today?”
“That’s actually why I was calling,” he says. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over and hang out this afternoon. You know, after your mom leaves for work.” He pauses a second. “I’m sure my mom would love to meet you.”
“You told your mom about me?”
“Of course,” Sean says easily. Sometimes it shocks me how grown-up he seems: He’s not intimidated by or embarrassed about anything like a lot of the other guys at school. Compared to David, Sean’s a man.
“That’s really sweet,” I say softly.
“Thanks,” he says, and we both get quiet. Then: “I mean, I didn’t tell her everything. I didn’t tell her about Ella and Betsey, even though I really still think that we should do some—”
“Sean?” I interrupt.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll come over if you promise not to bring that up again,” I say, flirty with seriousness mixed in.
“Okay,” he says. “I promise I won’t mention your mom or your living arrangements… today.”