On Thursday, Jillian made the mistake of leaving Elle’s invitation out on her desk in their bedroom where their mother saw it during one of her spot-checks on how clean they were keeping their bathroom. They were deeply engrossed in video editing at that moment, so she managed to read it before they even realized she had picked it up off Jillian’s desk.
Their mother made a little sound of impatience. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? I need to R.S.V.P. by tomorrow.”
Louise and Jillian exchanged glances. They shared the responsibility of telling her by both saying, “We’re not going.”
“It’s Elle,” Louise added. “We really aren’t friends with her.”
Their mother pursed her lips, considering. They waited, barely breathing. “She invited all the girls?” she asked finally.
“Yes, but it’s just a power maneuver to get control of the play!” Jillian cried. “She’s a Gemini, Mom, which means her birthday really is after May twenty-first. She’s having her birthday early so she can have it before the joint-class play meeting at the end of this month. She wants to do The Little Mermaid and we don’t.”
Louise winced. Jillian was an amazing liar, but when she stuck to the truth she seemed to have no idea what would be the result of her words.
“What happened to invade and conquer?” their mother asked.
“This is not Iraq,” Jillian said. “It’s a birthday party.”
“It’s diplomacy. You need to learn it.”
“But we don’t want to go,” Jillian cried, digging them in deeper.
“Honey, this is going to seem callous and awful, and I hate that I sound like my mother, but life is full of things you don’t really want to do that you should do. Everything from going to the dentist to giving blood. I really don’t like taking time out of my schedule to let someone jab me with a needle and screw up the rest of my day by sucking blood out of my arm. The only reason, though, that I’m alive today is because some stranger donated blood for my mother before I was born and again when I was a teenager and was in a car accident.”
“That’s different. That’s saving a life.”
“We’re sending you to school with kids your age so you can learn this, and it’s been five years and you haven’t learned it. You need people. Yes, it would be great and wonderful if all the people in your life were like Aunt Kitty.” They had always called Mom’s best friend “aunt” even though she wasn’t related by blood; she’d been informally “adopted” by their grandmother when the two friends were in high school. “Those are rare and wonderful treasures when you find them, but you need all the people.”
“Are you saying we should suck up to Elle?” Jillian asked because she knew the answer would be “no.”
“Obviously you haven’t learned the difference between ‘sucking up’ and ‘taking advantage of your opportunities.’ It’s time you learn. You’re going.”
“Mom!” Jillian and Louise both cried.
“Let me make myself clear.” She raised her right hand up, meaning that she would not tolerate them trying to weasel out. “You are going. You will be nice. You will do your best to have fun. You will be polite to Mrs. Pondwater and Elle. You will do nothing to submarine the party. You will use this opportunity to be friends not with Elle but with Elle’s friends, because one of them might be a girl you’ve discounted and held at arm’s length merely because Elle claimed her first. The only way you will ever find a friend like Aunt Kitty is to open yourself up to friendship. You will never find other people to love while sitting in your bedroom, talking only to each other.”
She finished giving a slow benediction with her upraised hand by pointing to each of them. “Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes,” they both whispered.
She sighed and lowered her hand. “You need to learn how to play the game of diplomacy. Right now you’re just fighting for a play. In the future, it could be for getting a job you love or a raise you deserve, or to win support for a law that will save people’s lives, or . . . or I don’t know. You two have the power to change the world. You’re letting shallow, self-serving people like the Pondwaters win because they understand the game and you don’t.”
* * *
That Saturday they went into Manhattan to find a present for Elle. They stopped first at FAO Schwarz and wandered through the vast toy store, trying to find something that Elle might want and didn’t already have, and that they could afford.
“This is hopeless,” Jillian kept muttering darkly. “She probably has everything in this store.”
“Live and learn,” their mother said. “The trick to giving a woman a gift is to give her something beautiful that she didn’t think to buy for herself. Flowers and jewelry are often a good fallback. Here.” She stopped in front of a display case of snow globes. “Maybe one of these.”
“They’re pretty,” Louise admitted.
“Here’s one with Princess Ariel.” Jillian pointed to it.
They gazed at the pink globe with Ariel as a human peering upwards. There seemed to be something vaguely wrong about it.
“It’s like she’s trapped,” Louise said.
“Maybe not that one,” their mother said. “Maybe a mermaid Ariel.” Their mother pointed to an Ariel with a big rounded head and huge eyes done by a popular statue maker.
“That’s a little creepy,” Louise said.
Jillian caught Louise’s hand and pointed silently at a snow globe on a nearby shelf. It was of Pittsburgh deep in the forest of Elfhome. It wasn’t accurate—a lot more of the city was shifted than the small wedge of downtown that they showed. The reason for the inconsistency became apparent when Jillian carefully flipped the globe upside down and righted it. The forest became Earth suburbs surrounding downtown Pittsburgh. Another flip and the city was once again surrounded by forest.
“Oh, that is so cool,” Louise whispered.
Unfortunately, their mother noticed their fascination. “You like that one?”
“Elle would hate it,” Jillian said quickly. It would be horrible to have to hand it over to Elle.
Their mother laughed. “I meant for you two.”
“Us?” Louise cried with surprise.
“We didn’t get you anything you wanted for your birthday. This could be a late birthday present. Do you want it?”
“Yes!” they both cried.
Their mother signaled over a clerk. “We’ll be taking two domes. This one here is the first. We think the other one should have a mermaid in it. Can you point out all the ones you have?”
Within a few minutes, a dozen globes were gathered together for them to choose from. One had a stunning crystal mermaid with a delicate silver tail with coral filaments waving in the invisible currents and detailed fish swimming around her.
“It’s so pretty!” Louise said. “She’ll love it.”
“And it’s not that expensive,” Jillian said.
“It feels very grown up to me,” their mother stated, and they had to agree. It seemed like something anyone would like, not just a little girl. “Do you know—has anyone bought one of these in the last few days?”
“This is the only one we had in stock,” the sales clerk said. “It’s been discontinued.”
“It can be exchanged? It’s going to be a gift.”
“Yes, I can give you a gift receipt.”
As the clerk rang up their purchases, their mother said, “After you buy a nice item, you wrap it as elegantly as possible, along with a sophisticated card. So next stop, a card shop.”
* * *
Louise drifted through the Hallmark store, looking at all the bright displays competing for attention. The gift-wrap aisle had animated wrapping paper. Racecars silently roaring down ribbons of asphalt for boys. Galloping unicorns for girls.
Louise paused to finger the unicorns wistfully as they raced in elegant circles, manes and tails blowing on sparkling magical wind. The only thing that Louise held against Elle was that once a week she took horse-riding lessons at a farm in New Jersey. On Elle’s profile on the school’s secure social-network site were pictures of her doing English dressage on a beautiful gray mare with black mane and tail. The mare was prancing, ears forward, neck arched, right front leg and left back leg cocked high in mid-step. It was the most beautiful thing Louise had ever seen, and she wanted with all her being to know what it was like to commune with such an animal.
Jillian came around the corner and shoved a card into Louise’s hands.
“Two cards?” Their mother followed on Jillian’s heels.
“She invited both of us.” Jillian snatched up the unicorn paper. “And we’re only giving her one present. It’s like one of us is going without a gift. If we go with only one card, then it’s like one of us is twiddling our nose at her.”
“The Pondwaters know that you two are at Perelman on a scholarship. They know we’re not at their level . . .”
“Yes, Elle’s parents know, but Elle is the one we have to live with, and she’s nine.” Jillian bumped against Louise to get her to back her up.
Louise raised an eyebrow at her twin. Normally Jillian would have been glad for a chance to twiddle her nose at Elle. Jillian was up to something. “It’s just a little more for a second card.
“Do you want us to look like welfare kids?” Jillian added.
“It’s the price of having us at a private school.” Louise checked the back of the card and winced. Between the barcode and copyright information was the price. It was more than a few dollars. This required work. “You should see the website of the party planners for this. It’s going to be a dress-up tea party like we’re a bunch of first-graders. There’s going to be roses on every table, real china and silver candelabras, and people dressed up like the characters from the movie.”
“And silk ball gowns and crowns for us to wear,” Jillian added.
“And a hair stylist and someone to do our nails,” Louise finished.
Their mother visibly melted. “Oh! That’s sounds so wonderful. You’re going to be so cute!”
“Mom!” they both cried.
Their mother sighed, shaking her head. “I swear, you two were never little girls. It’s like I gave birth to teenagers.”
As they headed for the checkout counter, Louise looked at the card in her hand. She half-expected it to be some odd joke card. It was surprisingly elegant. It took her a second to register that it read “Happy Birthday to Our Sister.”
“She turns eighteen on May first,” Jillian whispered. “Shutdown is next week and then again on May eighteenth. So if we want to get it to her anywhere close to ‘on time,’ we have to mail it today. Postage to Elfhome is going to take all our savings, so Mom needs to buy the card.”
Louise went breathless with the idea. They were actually sending their older sister a birthday card. She’d open up the envelope and be so surprised. There was no way she could know about them, since their parents had stolen their embryos. Would she be just as excited as they were? Would she want to see them? At eighteen, she would be free to travel back and forth between Elfhome and Earth.
It was thrilling to think they might actually get to see their sister someday, maybe even someday soon, because of the card. Still, Louise couldn’t help feeling as if the birthday card was a terrible idea.