What if she wasn’t from Viloxin? What if I’m not Viloki? So much of my life is fake already. Manufactured, smiled into, leaned into. This would mean the one real underpinning—my Viloki heritage, belonging here, belonging somewhere—is fucking fake, too.

The table wobbles in front of me, even though it’s bolted to the ground.

“Not … really,” Noni says, puncturing my dark cloud. She drops her phone and rubs at her face. “It seemed like she just wanted us to know she knew. To prove she did have a connection with Mama. That’s what that whole conversation was, wasn’t it? Daria proving she was close to Mama.”

I start picking a sticker off the pleather seat instead of tearing out my own hair. “I mean, sure. So, like, what do we do next? Call Teddy? Marion?” Anger and fear fight inside me, this two-headed beast I can’t control. “I’m going to lose it if they knew and never told us.”

I look up at her, and the blood has drained from her face. With a yank, I strip a sticker clean off.

“Is this like The Truman Show? Everyone in our family knows this except us? Is that what Dad meant in his letter about secrets of hers he couldn’t share with us?” I start on another sticker, even as hot tears blur my vision. I dab at them hard before they smudge my makeup. “What the hell does this make us if it’s true, Manon? It makes us impostors.”

“I don’t know,” she whispers. “I—”

“Shit. Shut up,” I snap, just as those same two girls from outside mosey into the tea shop, whispering and pointing at us.

“Better put on your Viloki Reese Witherspoon face,” Noni mutters, pulling up her hood just as the two girls approach our table.

“Hello, sunshines!” I squeal, and they bounce on their toes as they ask for a photo. Manon turns away, head dropping to hide between her forearms.

“Um, of course!” I reply, standing and posing between them. The girls giggle as the fake shutter snaps, and I thank my mark of luck I noticed them before they noticed me.

“Thank you, Tai!” one says, while the other asks, “How long are you back home?”

“Ugh, hopefully forever,” I offer brightly. “Love being back. It’s just gorgeous here. And the food. To die.”

“You really do glow when you’re refreshed by sucking the blood of fawning youths,” Noni says, when I turn back to her. She shakes her head. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“What alternative do I have?” I ask flatly. “They don’t want the real, sour, needy me-at-this-very-moment. You have to give the people what they want. Hide the darkness, zhuzh up the light.” I look out the dirt-flecked window and into the sun-dappled street.