“I saw,” I say. “I haven’t been able to look. I’m still feeling pretty freaked out about the whole thing.”

He stares at me, tugs the bottom of his shirt, lights another cigarette.

“I’d appreciate it if you left,” I say. “You seem pretty fucked up.”

“Can we just talk for a second?” he asks.

I look at Thomas, who suddenly appears strong and protective in his Volvo, then back at Bo, who looks weak and pitiful.

“I’ll give you five minutes,” I say. I look at my iPhone. It is 6:45 P.M. “You have until six fifty.”

“You’re my sister?” he says.

“Yes,” I say. “I confirmed with my dad yesterday.”

“So, your dad is alive?” he says. My stomach sinks. Does he know something I don’t? I’m furious at my dad, but I don’t want him to be dead. Then I remember he’s been texting me all day and calm down.

“Yeah,” I say. “I went to his office, and I told him about the ChromoZone results. He said they were probably true.”

“My mom told me my dad was dead,” he says. “She’s a liar. I went to her shitty apartment and she was hungover and useless.”

I’m not sure why he’s dumping his mommy issues on me.

“My dad is alive.” I take out my phone and show him that he texted me one hour ago. I also note the time: 6:47 P.M.

“Wait,” Bo says. “You went to your dad’s office yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t he live in New York?”

“No,” I say. “Riverside.”

“You’re from Riverside? I thought you were from the East Coast.”

“Huh?” I ask. “Why do you think that?” I am, of course, flattered—momentarily plucked from these deranged circumstances.

“I don’t know,” he says. “You just have a sort of New York City vibe. Like, I don’t know. You seem old money and like you’re rebelling against it or something.”

I smile, even though I know it’s a wildly inappropriate time to feel happy. Maybe all those hours of listening to Precious Starlets infused me with a sort of aristocratic je ne sais quoi.

“I wish,” I say. “You were born in Los Angeles, right?” I know this from his birth chart request.

“Nope, Riverside.” He takes a desperate puff of his cigarette. “Why did you think Los Angeles?”

“Because I read your birth chart,” I say. I don’t care if he knows I’m a loser now. “I’m Exalted.”

“Oh, wow,” he says. “Is that why you started following me? Because of my birth chart? And all my lucky placements?”

I nod unabashedly.

Bo lets out a sort of demented laugh.