Tasha spoke solemnly. "Amy, you know I'd give up earrings for my best friend."

"Even solid gold loops?" Amy smiled and gave her friend a hug. "Really, you can go. Actually, you have to go. Nancy could be home any minute, and I'm not supposed to have company."

Amy followed Eric and Tasha to the door. "Good luck in the game," she told Eric. "I'm sorry I can't be there."

"Me too," he said. "I'll call you when I get home."

Tasha paused before stepping outside and looked at Amy curiously. "That's funny," she said.

"What's funny?" Amy asked. "Tell me the joke."

"Not funny ha-ha, funny strange. When you talk about your mother, you always call her Mom."

"Yeah, so?"

"Just now, you called her Nancy."

Amy just shrugged. "Call me later," she said, and shut the door. She went into the kitchen and considered making a peanut b.u.t.ter, banana, and chocolate sprinkle sandwich, but it didn't seem worth the effort, so she settled for a plain banana.

She was only halfway through peeling it when she heard her mother come in the door. For a moment Amy worried that Nancy might have seen Eric and Tasha leave. But the smile on her mother's face let her know she wasn't in any additional trouble.

"Hi, sweetie, have a nice day?"

"It was okay," Amy said. "How was your day?"

"Excellent!" her mother declared. "I made it through the first round!"

"Huh?"

"I have to go through three rounds of interviews for this promotion," Nancy explained. "On the department, college, and university levels. And I got the okay from the department interview committee today!"

"That's good," Amy said. "Congratulations. Want some banana?"

Her mother broke off a chunk and popped it into her mouth. "And, sweetie, I promise you, when this process is over, things will be different, whether I get the promotion or not." She went on to explain that she wouldn't be so busy, and that she wanted them to take a little vacation together.

Amy nodded and smiled and murmured in agreement, but she wasn't really listening. Her thoughts were a million miles away, but she couldn't say exactly where.

The phone rang, and Nancy reached for it. "h.e.l.lo?" Then she frowned and replaced the receiver.

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. Whoever it was hung up." Nancy stretched and yawned. "Amy, would you mind if I just put a frozen pizza in the microwave? I'm too tired to cook, and I want to get to bed early tonight. I've got another round of interviews tomorrow."

"Sure, okay," Amy said. As far as she was concerned, her mother could have been offering frozen antelope. Dinner just wasn't a priority.

The phone rang again while they were eating. Again Nancy answered, and again there was no one at the other end of the line. Amy was helping put dishes into the dishwasher when another call came.

"h.e.l.lo?" Nancy asked. Her lips tightened, and she said, "h.e.l.lo," again. Then she slammed the phone down. "Amy, could one of your friends be playing games?"

"Why are you accusing my friends?" Amy asked.

"I'm not accusing anyone," her mother said. "I'm just wondering why the person on the other end hangs up when I answer." She popped the last fork into the dishwasher and yawned. "I'm going to have a quick shower before I collapse." She left Amy in the kitchen and went upstairs.

Amy sat back down at the kitchen table and looked at the phone. She too was wondering who was calling, who was hanging up when Nancy answered. She had a thought and went to the phone.

Remembering a phone company commercial in which someone punched in a set of numbers to find out who the last caller had been, Amy hit the same numbers. Bingo!

The phone rang and someone answered. Amy instantly recognized the voice. "Are you trying to call me?" She didn't have to identify herself - the woman on the other end recognized her voice too.

"Yes," Camilla said. "Amy, I want to talk to you. I want to explain. Please give me a chance to tell you what I know. Will you meet me?"

Amy's grip on the receiver tightened. "Where?"

"I've been calling on my mobile phone from a bus stop. It's close to where you live." She told Amy the street corner. "Or I could come pick you up."

"No," Amy said. She looked at the clock. Nancy was in the shower, and it would take her a while to get to sleep.

"I'll be there at ten-thirty," Amy said. Then she hung up the phone, before she could change her mind.

But at ten-fifteen, she still wasn't sure she should meet Camilla. Nancy was sound asleep, so that wasn't a problem. But what was Amy getting herself into? Camilla Jaleski couldn't be her mother. But then who was she? What was her relation to Dr. Jaleski? And why did she think she could be Amy's mother? Was it like Eric had said - was she just a crazy person? Amy had to know. And it wasn't as if she couldn't protect herself if the woman did turn out to be nuts. Still, if Nancy woke up and discovered that Amy had gone out of the house . . .

The phone rang. Amy grabbed it, half hoping it was Camilla calling to cancel their meeting. But it was only Eric.

"We won!" he declared. "We murdered them, sixty-two to forty-five!"

"That's great," she whispered. "Listen, Eric, I'm really tired. Tell me all about it tomorrow, okay?"

She could tell he was disappointed, but he didn't push her. "Yeah, sure. Good night."

Carefully, quietly, she replaced the receiver. Then she picked up a light sweater, which she tied around her shoulders, crept silently downstairs, and went out the door.

It was a five-minute walk to the corner where the bus stop stood. At first, as she approached, she didn't see anyone, and she was almost relieved. Then she detected a slight movement in the shadows on the bench, and she knew it had to be Camilla.

In the darkness of the bus shelter, Camilla seemed even more fragile and delicate than before. Her blond hair framed her face like a halo. She smiled when she saw Amy, and she looked even more like an angel.

"h.e.l.lo, Amy."

"Hi." Amy eyed her warily. She sat down on the other end of the bench.

"Thank you for coming," Camilla said. "By the way, I want to tell you, I like your new hair color. When I was your age, I dyed my hair purple."

"Really?" Amy murmured.

"I know this can't be easy for you," Camilla said. "It's hard for me, too. I've been searching for you for so long, Amy. And now that I've found you, I want to wrap my arms around you and hold you tight and never let you go."

Amy edged even closer to the other end of the bench. "Wait a minute," she began uneasily. She was startled when Camilla laughed lightly.

"Am I frightening you? I'm sorry, Amy. You know, that's not really your name. I mean, it's not the name I gave you when you were born. Your name is - "

"Just call me Amy, okay?" Amy interrupted.

"All right. Will you listen to my story, Amy?"

"Go ahead."

"It's your story too," Camilla said. "It's our story. I've been waiting twelve years to tell it to you." Amy could hear joy in her voice. The night was warm, but she shivered as Camilla began to tell her tale.

"Dr. Jaleski was my husband. When James and I married, thirteen years ago in Washington, B.C., I was much younger than he was. He had been divorced from his first wife for many years, and she had custody of their daughter."

"Mary," Amy murmured.

"Yes. Mary. I only met her once, when she was just a little older than you are now. Her mother rarely allowed her to visit. Your father was alone, and he was lonely. I wanted to give him children, lots of children." Her voice became sad. "But it was not to be. I just couldn't seem to become pregnant."

Amy tried to sound casual. "So you adopted me?" She figured she'd better play along for the time being.

"Oh, no, darling. I am your natural mother."

"But you just said you couldn't become pregnant."

"I saw many doctors, specialists," Camilla continued. "And of course, your father was one of the world's foremost scientists."

"My father?" Amy blurted out.

"Yes, darling, of course. James Jaleski is . . . was your father."

Amy thought back to her meetings with Dr. Jaleski. She and the doctor had had a special relationship - but why wouldn't he have told her he was her father? It didn't make any sense. This couldn't be true.

"I was given some medication to help me become pregnant," Camilla went on. "Experimental drugs. They weren't widely available." She gave a laugh, but it wasn't a happy one. "It's ironic, in a way. I was only able to get these drugs because of your father's connections in the scientific and medical community."

Amy shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench. It was so weird, hearing the words your father.

"And I did become pregnant! We were so happy, James and I. I had to continue taking the drugs so that I wouldn't lose you. And I didn't like having to do that. But I would have done anything to have you." Her voice became even softer with reminiscence. "We knew you would be a girl. We painted the nursery pink and white. . . ." Her voice drifted off for a moment. Amy waited.

"Then you were born," Camilla said, and suddenly her voice became harder. "You were beautiful and absolutely perfect. But you were . . . special."

"How do you mean, special?" Amy asked.

Camilla didn't exactly answer that. "The medication I had to take . . . it made you different. Special. But I didn't care. I loved you so much, Laura."

Amy took a sharp breath.

"I mean Amy," Camilla said quickly. "I wanted to at you like any ordinary child, to raise you in a happy, normal home. But your father had other ideas."

"What other ideas?" Amy asked.

Camilla's voice became bitter. "He wanted to use you. He wanted to take our extraordinary baby and use her for his horrible experiments. He was greedy, Amy. He wanted more babies just like you."

"He wanted to clone me," Amy said.

"Yes. But I didn't want him to. I refused to give permission. I wouldn't let him touch you!" There was a catch in her voice, as if she was about to break down into tears, and she stopped speaking.

"What happened next?" Amy prompted her.

"He divorced me," Camilla said simply. "He kicked me out, just got rid of me. And then he sued for full custody of you." Now there was no mistaking her anger. "He made up some ridiculous story, accusing me of child abuse and neglect. He got his scientific and medical pals, with their fancy degrees and t.i.tles, to back him up. I didn't have any important friends, Amy. There was no one to stand up for me. So I lost you. And he got to do what he wanted to do."

"Make the other Amys," Amy whispered.

"Yes."

Amy felt dizzy. She put a hand on the bench to steady herself.

"I was told to keep away from you," Camilla said. "They made me leave. They said if I tried to find you, if I ever tried to get near you, I'd be arrested, and declared insane, and locked away forever. So I stayed away."

She fell silent again. This time Amy didn't prompt her to keep talking. Camilla was crying now. She didn't make any noise, but Amy could see the rivers of tears running down her cheeks.

Amy waited. She knew that Camilla would tell her more when she felt ready.

And she did.

"I was a coward," Camilla admitted. "I was afraid to fight them, to fight for you. And if you want to hate me for that, I'll understand."

"I don't hate you," Amy said spontaneously.

Now she could see a small smile forming on Camilla's face. "Thank you, darling," Camilla said humbly.

"I didn't say I believe you," Amy added hastily.

"I understand," Camilla said. "It's a strange story, isn't it?"

Not any stranger than the story Nancy had told her about her birth, Amy thought, but she kept that to herself.

"When I read that James had died," Camilla continued, "I wasn't so frightened anymore. I was determined to find you, to let you know who I am. The newspaper said he died in Los Angeles, so I thought there was a chance you could be here."

"Los Angeles is a big city," Amy said carefully. "How did you find me?"

"On the Internet, months ago, I found a clue. A girl named Amy was looking for other girls her age named Amy."

Amy nodded. She remembered doing that, just after learning about herself. She'd been trying to find her fellow clones.

"I knew he had called his experiment Amy," Camilla said. "He never liked the name Laura."

The dizzy feeling hadn't gone away, and now Amy was feeling a little sick. "I have to go now," she blurted out.

Camilla didn't try to force her to stay. "I understand," she said. "I just have one question."

"What?"

"That woman who took you, Nancy Candler . . . is she good to you?"