“A dinosaur broke in,” I say with the same thin voice I always use with Mei. “And Ophelia isn’t a robot—she’s an artificially intelligent personal assistant. Don’t you watch the commercials?” I walk toward the door and gently scoot my ten-year-old sister back into the hall. “Now, stop coming into my room when the door is closed. I’m getting dressed.”

Mei frowns. She had a growth spurt over the last year and almost reaches my shoulders, but she still looks so much like a child. Round cheeks, big eyes, and impossibly clear skin. Our almost-black hair is probably the only thing we have in common at the moment.

That and the fact that deep down we love each other, despite our tendencies to exaggerate how much the other one gets on our nerves.

She shoves her hand against the door to keep it open. “Where are you going? Can I come too?”

“I don’t think Mom would approve of you going to a high school graduation party,” I point out, fiddling with my hair. “And even if she did—hard pass.”

Mei doesn’t budge. Maybe stubbornness is another thing we have in common.

Against my better judgment, I take a few steps back and wave my hands over my outfit. “Does this look okay?”

Mei perks up, eager to provide input. She makes a humming noise like she’s thinking my dress choice over and twists her mouth. “Are you trying to look like you’re going to a weird Victorian lady’s funeral? If so, it looks great.”

I hold up my wrist so Mei’s staring straight at my O-Tech watch. “Ophelia, can you send a text message from Mei’s phone to Carter Brown and tell him my sister is secretly in love with him?”

“No!” Mei shrieks, and bolts down the hall to rescue her phone.

“I am sorry, but I cannot send messages from another user’s phone,” Ophelia replies.

“I know that, but Mei doesn’t.” I take another quick glance in the mirror, fidgeting with the neckline of my dress. “Hey, Ophelia, can you make a playlist of my thirty most-listened-to songs? I want it for the drive.”

“Of course. Would you like me to give the playlist a name?” the AI asks.

I think for a moment. “March of the Stormtrooper Penguins.” And then I smile. Finn and I have been making up ridiculous playlist names since the ninth grade. It makes sense to have a new one for tonight, being as it’s our first date. Or at least, it’s the first time we’ll be together outside of school since we finally admitted we liked each other.

The moment his face appears in my head, my nerves begin to buzz.