Riley’s hand flew to her head. She ran her hands through her pale, red-blond hair. “You know, you’re right. I bet my mother comes in here every month and dyes my hair while I’m asleep!”
They were silent for a beat before Shelby’s mouth dropped open again.
“OK, OK, how about this?” She started flapping her arms in an apparent attempt to take flight. “What if you’re Amish, and your mom got knocked up on one of those Rumspringa hayrides? They weren’t married, so once your mom had you, they were shunned, had to leave Amish-town, and then had to have a new birth certificate made for you! Because, you know, you were probably born in a barn or something.”
She grinned, looking immensely pleased with herself, while Riley cocked an eyebrow. “So that’s why we have that horse and buggy in the garage next to Mom’s Mini Cooper!”
Shelby glared at Riley as if she were the one acting crazy. “Duh. They’re ex-Amish. They would have adapted to our electronic American ways. No horse and buggy.”
Riley let out an annoyed puff of air, and Shelby pointed at her. “I’m probably right, you know. You do have a ton of well-made wood furniture.”
“Don’t you have a boy band to stalk?”
“No, I’m between obsessions. OK, maybe you’re not an Amish bastard. But it could be something else. Maybe one of your parents isn’t actually your parent? Maybe one of your parents was married before and they had you. The marriage disintegrated amid rumors of abuse, but your mother couldn’t prove it. You were supposed to go to your dad’s for the summer, but she couldn’t let that happen, so she went on the run with you. Your mom would have been on one of those underground railroads, and they made you a new birth certificate so your child-molester louse of a dad wouldn’t find you. Think about it. You’re an only child. You have no family, no cousins.”
Riley waved the birth certificate. “Not me, Shelb.” She pointed to the birth date again. “Not my birthday.” Then the city of birth. “Granite Cay? Never been there. And this kid was—8.9 pounds! No way that’s me.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder and cocked out a hip. “I was a very svelte 6.1.”
“I’m telling you, this is you. Have you ever seen your own birth certificate?”
“No.”
Shelby bounded up, eyes wide. “Because there isn’t one! I mean look, you and this Jane have the same eye color.”
Riley’s eyes widened. “Ohmigod. I didn’t realize that. Blue-eyed girls are exceedingly rare.”
Shelby’s lips pressed into a hint of a smile but not enough to stop her from rambling on. “I bet if this kid had hair, it would be the same color as yours.”
“You are being ridic.”
“The milk carton kid all alone out here in suburbia where your real family could never track you down. No extended family to disprove my hypothesis…”
“That’s because my parents were only children too. That’s not that rare. Your mother was an only child.”
“Which is why I am one of eight. My mom was so lonely as a kid she wanted to raise a basketball team when she grew up. Mission a-freaking-ccomplished.”
“Big families aren’t that weird, Shelbs.”
Shelby made herself comfortable on Riley’s mint-green comforter. “You have no idea how lucky you are.”
For every silent moment at Riley’s place, there was a crash, a shriek, or a stain at Shelby’s. While Riley’s parents needed to know—and approve—her every move from after-school activities to whether or not she ate enough breakfast, Shelby’s parents did more of their parenting via headcount. If there were eight kids, everything was OK.
“Do you have anything else to eat?” Shelby asked, apparently already bored.
“You know the only way junk food gets in here is via the Shelbyville express.” Riley glanced out her door. “I can probably smuggle you some kale chips or dark chocolate grasshoppers.”
“See? Prison food. I’m telling you, Ry…” Her voice dropped to an ominous whisper. “Whatever happened to baby Jane? She’s living in the suburbs and being force-fed kale chips!”
Riley considered for a second before flopping down on her bed next to Shelby, blinking up at the eggshell-white ceiling.
“So my parents snatched me off the street. How did they get my birth certificate then? And why did they keep it? Isn’t that, like, evidence? The first thing you get rid of after committing a crime?”
Shelby’s eyes sparkled as she inched toward Riley on the bed. “Maybe they stole you right from the hospital. Used to happen all the time. Or I guess you could have just been adopted.” Shelby stuck out her tongue, obviously uninterested in the simplest solution.
“I wasn’t adopted.”
Shelby burst out laughing and tossed the birth certificate off the side of the bed. It floated down gently then Riley reached over to grab it.
“See? You can’t quite let go…Jane.”
“Shut up.”