anything.”
After calculating and setting the angles, the background, she used her new camera on a timer for several shots.
She worked till after three, finding the process simpler with the second document. It was nearly four by the time she put away all the tools and equipment, dutifully removed her makeup. She was certain she’d never sleep— her mind was so full, so busy.
She went under the moment she shut her eyes.
And for the first time in her life, barring illness, she slept soundly until noon. Her first act was to rush to the mirror to make certain she hadn’t dreamed it all.
Her second was to call Julie.
“Are we set?” Julie asked, after she’d answered on half a ring.
“Yes. I have everything.”
“And it’s totally good, right? It’ll do the job?”
“They’re excellent counterfeits. I don’t foresee any problem.”
“Awesome! Nine o’clock. I’ll get the cab, have it wait—so be ready. And make sure you look the part, Liz.”
“I tried the makeup last night. I’m going to practice with it, and my hair, this afternoon. And practice walking in the heels.”
“You do that. I’ll see you later. Party time!”
“Yes, I’ll—” But Julie had already hung up.
She spent all day on what she now thought of as Project Liz. She dressed in new cropped pants and top, made up her face, worked with her hair. She walked in the new shoes, and when she felt she had that process down, danced.
She practiced in front of the mirror, after finding a pop-music station on the radio. She’d danced before like this—alone in front of the mirror—teaching herself the moves she’d observed at dances in high school. When she’d been miserably on the sidelines, too young and too plain for any boy to notice.
The heels made the moves, the turns somewhat problematic, but she liked the way they kept her just a little off balance, forced her to loosen her knees, her hips.
At six, she took out her labeled meal, ate it while checking her e-mail. But there was nothing, nothing at all from her mother. She’d been sure there would be—some lecture, something.
But Susan’s patience was endless, and her use of silence masterful.
It wouldn’t work this time, Elizabeth determined. This time Susan was in for a shock. She’d walked out on Elizabeth, but she’d come home to Liz. And Liz wouldn’t be taking that summer program at the university. Liz would be amending her schedule and classes for the coming term.
Liz wasn’t going to be a surgeon. Liz was going to work with the FBI, in cyber crimes.
She gave herself thirty minutes to research universities with the highest-rated programs in her new field of study. She may have to transfer, and that might pose a problem. Though her college fund was tied to her trust—and came through her grandparents—they might cut her off. They’d listen to their daughter, follow her lead.
If so, she’d apply for scholarships. Her academic record would hold her there. She’d lose a semester, but she’d get a job. She’d go to work. She’d earn her way to her own destination.
She shut everything down, reminding herself tonight was for fun, for discovery. Not for worries or plans.
She went upstairs to dress for her first night out. Her first night of real freedom.
Because she’d dressed so early, Elizabeth had too much time to think, to question, to doubt. She was overdressed, under-made-up and her hair was wrong. No one would ask her to dance, because no one ever did.
Julie was eighteen, older and experienced, and knew how to dress, how to behave in social situations, how to talk to boys. She herself was bound to do or say something inappropriate. She’d embarrass Julie, then Julie would never speak to her again. That tenuous bond of friendship would be broken forever.
She worked herself up into such a state of panicked excitement she felt feverish, queasy. Twice she sat down, head between her knees, to fight off anxiety attacks, and still she answered the door at Julie’s buzz with sweaty palms and a thundering heart.
“Holy shit!”
“It’s wrong. I’m wrong.” All the doubts and fears peaked into self-disgust and mortification as Julie stared at her. “I’m sorry. You can just take the ID.”
“Your hair.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I only wanted to try—”
“It’s
“I do?”
Julie cocked a hip, fisted a hand on it. “You’ve been holding out.”
The pulse in her throat throbbed like a wound. “Then it’s all right? I look right?”
“You look so way right.” Julie circled a finger in the air, got a blank look. “Do the turn, Liz. Let’s see the whole package.”
Flushed, nearly teary, Elizabeth turned in a circle.
“Oh, yeah. We’re going to slay tonight.”
“You look awesome, too. You always do.”
“That’s really sweet.”
“I like your dress.”
“It’s my sister’s.” Julie did a turn and posed in the halter-neck black mini. “She’ll kill me if she finds out I borrowed it.”
“Is it nice? Having a sister?”
“It doesn’t suck to have an older one who wears the same size I do, even if she is a bitch half the time. Let me see the ID. Meter’s running, Liz.”
“Oh. Yes.” Liz opened the evening bag she’d chosen from her mother’s collection, took out Julie’s fake license.
“It looks real,” Julie said after a frowning study, then stared up at Elizabeth with wide, dark, eyes. “I mean, you know,
“They came out very well. I could do better, I think, with more sophisticated equipment, but for tonight, they should do.”
“It even feels real,” Julie murmured. “You’ve got skills, girl. You could make a serious fortune. I know kids who’d pay big-time for docs like this.”
Panic flooded back. “You can’t tell anyone. It’s just for tonight. It’s illegal, and if anyone finds out—”
Julie swiped a finger over her heart, then her lips. “They won’t find out from me.” Well, except Tiffany and Amber, she thought. She shot Elizabeth a smile, certain she could convince her new BFF to make up a couple more just for close friends.
“Let’s get this party started.”
After Elizabeth shut and dead-bolted the door, Julie took her hand and pulled her along in a run for the waiting cab. She slid in, gave the driver the name of the club, then swiveled in her seat.
“Okay, plan of action. First thing is to be chilly.”
“Should I have brought a sweater?”
Julie laughed, then blinked when she realized Elizabeth was serious. “No, I mean we have to be cool, act like we go to clubs all the time. Like this is no big deal for us. Just another Saturday night.”
“You mean we stay calm and blend in.”
“That’s what I said. Once we’re in, we grab a table and order Cosmos.”
“What are they?”
“You know, like the
“I don’t know who they are.”
“Never mind. It’s fashionable. We’re twenty-one, Liz; we’re in a hot club. We order fashionable drinks.”
