Lucas pulled into the driveway. I waited exactly long enough for the engine to turn off, and then I was out of the car, leaving the two of them in my dust. I heard Roxanna shout something. I didn’t slow down enough to find out what it was. I wanted my bedroom, safe and secure and full of things that belonged to me, and more, I wanted my door, solidly closed between me and the rest of the world. I was done with people. I was so, so done with people.

Seymour raised his head when I barreled into the room, and seeing it was me, stood and flowed down the bed like water to chirp and purr in my direction. Cats are better than people. Cats are always better than people.

“I bet if cats were the dominant life form on this planet, we wouldn’t be getting ready to invade,” I said dully, stroking his head. Seymour narrowed his eyes and purred louder. There was a truth I didn’t fully understand and didn’t want to think about too hard buried in my words, tucked into the corners and contradictions. I flung myself onto the bed, pressing my face into the pillow, and tried to relax as Seymour settled against my side, a warm, comforting weight.

Here is the truth: there are times when I’ve wondered whether I was, in fact, insane. Whether there might be a pill out there strong enough to make me human, to realign my divergent neurochemistry onto something more ordinary. There’s nothing wrong with seeking help when it’s needed. It’s just that most of the time, I haven’t felt like it was needed.

Yes, insisting I’m an alien has complicated my life. Yes, introducing myself with “and my people are on their way across the gulf of stars to devour and subjugate the human race, but mostly devour” as part of my family background has consistently made things harder for me. Yes, I understand I can’t prove any of the things I say. I don’t know how I know them. I only know that they’re true.

But I can hold a job. I can make friends. I know the people who care about me are good, compassionate, and understanding—and they know that once they’ve accepted my alien nature, I’ll always be cool about whatever it is they need me to accept about them. It’s give and take, after all. It matters.

Seymour moved from my side up to the pillow. Face pressed against his side, I took a few deep, slow breaths, and fell asleep.

2.

“Stasia?” My name was accompanied by the sound of fingers drumming on my door, like the staccato step of a spider wearing tap shoes. “You awake in there?”