My project on her Dracaena cinnabari (the tree’s species) ended two days ago. Our meetings continued with me pretending I still had something to do. Couldn’t make myself tell Indigo. Don’t know why, but I couldn’t do it.

She’s slowly coming around and on top of that, she’s a nice presence. She seems to love plants. Even the stories about my practice with Doctor Hall, that Ava used to call boring, interest her. She has a dark sense of humor and doesn’t try to be someone she’s not.

The shield she’s built around herself is tough, but I’m confident she’ll get where she needs to once she’s ready and surrounded by good people. And there are a lot of humans on Earth. If neither Olivia nor I can get under her skin, there are tons of others that could.

I don’t know that much about her yet. A week isn’t enough to get to know someone like her. She’s reserved, but at the same time, she doesn’t have a filter between her mind and her mouth.

“How do you know her name?” Dad asks Livy.

She has an enormous smile on her face. “I face-timed her when E was taking a shower.”

Olivia says it like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. It makes me question how many times she must’ve lied to us if she’s that good at doing it. She doesn’t bat an eyelid.

It’s enough for me to get myself into a huge black hole of lies. Her pushing me deeper is the last thing I need.

Father laughs at her response, knowing how much this sounds like his daughter. She’s always been like this. Slipping into my room, wearing my clothes, emptying my shower gel, using my cologne, stealing money from my jeans pockets. Nosy with an I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude.

“Can’t she come any sooner? We’re so excited to meet her.” Mom puts a warm hand on my cheek, watching me with her beautiful green eyes.

I shake my head as I put the fork down and swallow one more time before speaking. It’s my fault things have gone too far. Olivia was only trying to help. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into my lies. Neither does Indigo. She’d probably freak out if she knew what my sister told our parents.

“She’s not coming on Sunday, Ma.”

My voice must express the shame I feel, because her expression dulls, disappointment flowing over her features. My father’s shoulders drop the second I finish the sentence.

“There’s–” I start, but I’m interrupted by my sister's laugh.

“This was supposed to be a surprise, but she said she’d come sooner.” Mom and Dad's faces lighten as Liv delivers the good news. “Surprise!” She smiles awkwardly, looking close to shitting herself.