#Chapter 4 The Test

I wanted to do the test as soon as possible, but the earliest I could schedule an appointment was the following Saturday. I guess there were more girls taking the test than I thought.

 

I arrived at the clinic on time. The number of other girls my age with curly hair waiting for their turn with the nurses was staggering. They were seated in every available chair, but most stood in long lines as they waited their turn to speak to ten different nurses.

 

I never saw so many girls with curly hair all in one place. As soon as one of the girls finished speaking with one of the nurses, another girl took her place. Many left abruptly after answering the nurse's questions, while others went through a different door and into another room.

 

I overheard chatter from two curly-haired girls around me. They claimed the girls who left had been rejected when the nurses felt they couldn’t be Alberta Wilson. The others were considered possible matches and continued on to the DNA testing—the girls who were chosen to take a DNA test left with their thousand dollars.

 

I needed to be one of them.

 

But it was disheartening every time a girl was rejected and left the clinic empty-handed. They all looked much more like an Alpha than me. If I was rejected before giving my DNA sample, where would I get the money to pay for Victor’s suit?

 

Finally, it was my turn. The middle-aged receptionist immediately asked for my adoption certificate. She examined it and me closely. The way the woman stared at me made me feel like I was doing something wrong.

 

“Is your hair naturally curly, or is it permed?” she asked as she touched my hair. “You realize this is serious business, yet many of you girls are here to get some of Mr. Wilson’s money.”

 

“I’ve nuh … never need … needed a perm,” I stammered. “My hair is nuh … naturally curly.” The nurse was making me so nervous I could barely breathe. The room seemed airless as she studied me. Could she tell I was there for the money, too?

 

Then I had an idea and took out my phone. “Lah … look, here’s a puh… picture of my suh … school ID from three years ago.” The photo showed me at the beginning of my freshman year. My hair was just as curly as it is now.

 

The woman took my phone from my hand and compared it to a photo I saw on television. It was the photo of Alberta’s mother when she was young.

 

After a minute, she handed my phone back to me. “Okay, Daisy, I’ll need some more information.”

 

The nurse took out a form and wrote my name on the top line. Not wanting any trouble from Cecilia, I gave her Amy’s address for the second line.

 

After asking me more questions, some that I couldn’t answer, the nurse handed me the form and told me to walk through the doorway on the left side of the large room. It was where other girls had gone for testing and their thousand dollars!

 

I walked to the other room, not looking at anyone, and with my fingers crossed. This room was less crowded. I took a deep breath and walked up to another nurse who was sitting behind a desk.

 

This nurse asked me more questions about my health and family. Again, I was examined and asked if my hair was naturally curly or permed.

 

After the other nurse completed my registration, I agreed to have my cheek swabbed and a tube of blood drawn. I didn't like having a needle stuck in my arm, but I was happy to have gotten this far in the process.

 

There were dozens of racks of samples covering a table. Alberta had to be among the girls who came for testing today. Surely the lost Alpha Princess would be found. That thought made me feel less guilty about what I was doing to get the money to pay for Victor’s suit.

 

After the DNA samples were taken, I was told I must have photos taken to be compared with old pictures of Alberta’s mother.

 

There were five photographers and their equipment set up at the other end of the room. Nearby, a middle-aged man in a suit, tie, and mustache sat quietly, watching everything around him. He reminded me of one of those proper, stuffy butlers in a TV series.

 

The man also looked very tired. This part of the search for Alberta had to be tedious when this many girls showed up to be tested. He didn’t seem to see me at all, even though he looked my way several times.

 

Sitting before the bright lights and the camera, I squirmed and wished this would be over. All this attention directed at me was making me shake inside and out. I couldn’t wait to leave and take the money to Victor’s office.

 

When the first photo was taken, I cringed and closed my eyes as the bright flash went off with a pop. I couldn’t keep from closing my eyes on the second try, either. I always hated getting my photo taken. Why would anyone want to preserve an image of me?

 

The photographer tried to be patient, but I couldn’t help it. I felt as if everyone in that big room could read my thoughts and knew I wasn’t Alberta. They probably suspected I was just another greedy girl wanting the money.

 

“Let’s try a photo without your glasses,” the photographer said. “I can’t see your eyes very well when the flash goes off. The lenses reflect the light.”

 

I took my glasses off and felt much more at ease because I couldn't see all the people around me as clearly. I relaxed a little and told myself they weren’t staring at me anymore. But I could see well enough to know when the butler suddenly raised his head and stood.

 

The photographer seemed as startled as me. Was the butler staring at us? Why?

 

The butler quickly regained his composure and apologized before sitting down again. Who was he, and what part was he playing in the search for Alberta?

 

I kept my eyes open as the photographer took two photos of me without my glasses before handing me another paper. He then told me to go to another woman sitting at a desk near an armed guard.

 

This woman was young and pretty. She examined the paper from the photographer and asked me to sign the bottom on the solid line.

 

Relief flowed through me when I read the paper before I signed my name. I agreed that the thousand dollars would be delivered to the address I'd given them within forty-eight hours.

 

I would receive the thousand-dollar payment and be able to pay Victor. With all the girls here, I was lucky to get it in writing before they found Alberta.

 

But as I began to walk toward the door to the outside, I heard a man’s voice. I turned back and saw it was the butler. He was speaking to the photographer who had just taken my photos.

 

"They look too similar,” the butler said. “That girl must be her.”

 

Who was he talking about? Had they really found Alberta? I’d better leave before they wanted their money back.