Page 83 of Strange Lights

“No, it was never that. Of course I wanted you with me. But I wanted to give you a shot at a completely fresh start. I was sure Adele, without me there to hold her back, would push past the edge, destroy herself.”

Zara huffs. “You weren’t the only one who couldn’t let go. She was different after you left. For a while, the way she treated me changed. Almost like she cared about me. I fell for it. By the time I realized even if the enclosure was comfortable, it was still a cage, she had Meredith in her claws.”

“Third time’s the charm?” Meredith asks. “Personally, I was on my way out. I only stayed because the alien stuff was getting interesting. Adele didn’t suspect I was a double agent until you two messed it up.”

Zara whirls on Meredith. “Why didn’t you tell me? Work with me? I was trying to figure out a way to get you out.”

“Oh please, excuses,” Meredith scoffs. “You stayed because you were afraid. It was easier to stay than face the mess it would be if you left.”

Zara looks like Meredith slapped her. “I did what I could to work against her. I went to the Whistlemen the second I had any freedom.”

“And then you came back and played the good daughter,” Meredith says.

“So did you.”

“The difference is I remembered that I wasn’t that person,” Meredith says. “You forgot. I always remembered when we were a team. Figured that once I escaped, I’d eventually track you both down, lock you in a room somewhere until I was sure I could trust you both and you’d worked out your shit with each other, and then we could deal with the Mom situation. The last couple steps of my plan are moving faster than anticipated, so I’m kind of winging it at the moment, but I’m sure we can come up with something now we’re all on the same side.”

My youngest sister, the best iteration so far. I long to feel pride for her persistent optimism, for her will to cheerfully climb over any obstacle life throws at her. But she is nothing like me⁠—I haven’t shaped her. All I feel is shame for never seeing her clearly, for assuming I knew who she was.

My sisters didn’t trust me. I left them behind. They couldn’t count on me to be there for them, so they kept their secrets close. The weight of my failure, the enormity of how badly I’ve made my choices, sits on my chest, pressing the air from my lungs. The silence is broken by the quiet shuffling of Dave, surreptitiously prodding at a pair of unfamiliar bags in the corner. Eldi snores loudly, the normally grating sound like music to my ears. The Winnebago rocks gently as the wheels touch down and the headlights flick on. I should probably call Manny up from downstairs to take the wheel before we hit the highway, since it looks like we have a lot to catch up on.

“I think it’s past time we unpacked some of our emotional baggage,” Zara says. “But we can probably throw a suitcase or two straight into the trash without ending up with nothing to wear on vacation.”

Meredith stretches as she gets to her feet. “And I’m tired of sitting on the floor.”

Calvin holds out his hand to me again, and this time I take it.

“Adele doesn’t just hate your toddler,” Zara says. “She wants to destroy all the Chupacabras.” She looks over at Dave and clears her throat pointedly. Dave retracts his metallic tentacles from the depths of Zara’s bag and scurries out of sight. “Snoop,” Zara mutters under her breath as she pulls out a laptop from one of the unfamiliar bags and slides onto the bench by the table.

Doug nudges the second backpack toward Meredith. “Thanks for tracking these down,” Meredith says, accepting her bag. Doug purrs like a cat at her praise.

“No rest for the wicked, I guess,” I say. “I snuck some files too.”

At that, Eldi’s watch whistles, unlatching from her wrist and skittering across the wall like a miniature version of Doug or Dave. It creeps onto the table, where its little tentacles immediately emerge, as if eager to tell us all it knows.

The first flutters of hope rise in my chest, like a hundred butterflies carrying with them all the pain and regret, ready to fly away at last. I have my sisters, I have Eldi, and Calvin hasn’t abandoned me yet.

I sit on the bench next to Zara. I’m acutely aware of Calvin’s every move as he slides tentatively onto the bench across from me.

“Well, luckily you have an expert researcher on your hands. Who wants to share their intel first?” He looks at the three of us, Meredith and Zara with their laptops and me with Eldi’s watch.

“Me,” Zara says, popping open her laptop. “Middle kids never get to go first.”

34

A Second Helping of Waffles

The sunrise is disorienting; I feel like it’s been years instead of hours. I’m eager to move, to finish a long-overdue task, but the others are more sensible. There are contacts to reach, information to share, plans to make, and logistics to consider. Zara makes us stop for clean clothes, Eldi is ravenous, and Meredith insists we stop to sleep for a full night. Meredith and Zara wander off to find accommodations in Winnie’s basement, arms laden with freshly purchased pajamas and blankets. Eldi wants to hunt, but an extravagant combination plate of sushi and a promise that I’ll buy her a goat the next time we find a goat farm convinces her to stay inside the Winnebago, safely tucked into her bed.

The looming silence left behind between Calvin and me closes over us like a vise after everyone else disappears. He’s been sleeping with me in my bed⁠—but now I don’t know where we stand. For a moment, I hope maybe he’ll be too tired to talk. Maybe we can pretend for one more night.

“Let’s talk outside,” he says in a low voice, and my heart sinks.

The night sky is awash in strange lights once more. Well, that’s not quite accurate. They’re no longer a mystery, no longer “strange,” exactly⁠—that’s Eldi’s family out there. Searching for her, for her siblings. Probably a lot of little robot scouts. We don’t have the full picture yet. But between Meredith and Zara, we’ve confirmed there is an alien mothership en route and that Eldi and the others are their young. Chicken Little indeed.

“You could have told me about your past,” Calvin says. He’s looking at me, not the lights.

“Could I, though?” I say, thinking of the Calvin who judged me before we even met.