Of course he’d ask. He’s like the sixth member of the Scooby gang, looking for clues to the murder of my life. I breathe in through my nose and then smile because I’ve found that I lie easier when I’m smiling. “Nah.”

“Then why are you impersonating Jessica Stone?”

“She asked me to. She said she wanted to take a break for a while.”

Bran almost spews his coffee. “You don’t believe her, do you?”

“Of course not, but she hasn’t told me the truth yet, either. And I haven’t really been looking. I’m just, you know, enjoying the ride. It feels nice being seen.” The last part kind of slips out, and all three of us fall silent.

Somewhere near the kitchen, someone drops a coffee mug and it shatters on the tile floor and someone else calls for an order of hash browns scattered and smothered. I grab the ticket from the table but then hesitate when I realize I don’t have my wallet. Bran plucks the bill from me and scoots out of the booth.

“I’ll get it. Finish your hash browns, though,” he adds as he walks over to the register.

I sit quietly with Milo. He studies me with those dark green eyes, and I pick up my fork and start shoveling the cold, congealed potatoes into my mouth so I don’t have to answer whatever question I know he wants to ask. We’re siblings, and we’re close. I’ve told Milo everything over the years, and he’s told me everything, too. I was the first person he came out to in his freshman year of high school, although with our parents it didn’t really matter.

“But I wanted to tell you first,” he had said. This was back when he was scrawny and a little shorter than me, and I could still suplex him splendidly in the community pool. “Because you’re my best friend, Monster.”

“You’re mine, too, bro,” I had replied, and scrubbed his curly head.

But how could I tell him that I can’t live up to the example he sets? That I’m just not built that way. That I’m afraid of being nothing in his shadow.

He sets down his fork, a frown tugging at the edges of his mouth. “Monster…”

I chase the hash browns with a gulp of coffee. “Let’s not talk about it, okay? And don’t tell anyone about me and Jess—not even our moms.”

“Of course not, but why do you think—”

“Okay.” I slide out of the booth to end our conversation, grabbing the wig as I go. Helplessly he lets the topic drop and we wait for Bran to pay, and they escort me back to the hotel before hitting up another all-night showing of Galaxy Quest. I wave goodbye from the lobby and head inside.