By now, Emily and Daniel had settled into a rhythm —one that made sense to them (and to Sarah and Thomas) even if it never would to anyone else. They filled the spaces the other left bnk, a seamless interpy of thoughts and instincts. It was hard to remember a time before they had existed like this: the backup, the safety, the constant companionship.

  Instinctively, they knew that if someone had asked their past selves whether they’d want to share a body—share everything—they would have recoiled in horror. It should have felt like a cage, a complete loss of privacy and identity.

  But it didn’t.

  Yes, they were separate - but they also weren’t. Yin and yang, orbiting one another in a way no one else could understand; growing together, guiding, pying, teasing, arguing. Daniel’s experience and wisdom guided Emily through childhood challenges, and in turn Emily gave Daniel room to continue healing through her kindness and the kindness of those around him.

  Sarah and Thomas had made that even better. When they accepted Daniel into their family, it had cemented something unspoken, something deeply needed. Having their parents on their side made them feel complete—like a unit.

  Daniel had changed since then. More pyful, more lighthearted. More childlike for ck of a better word. He still carried the weight of his past, but their parents’ love had softened something in him. Emily was the first to notice—how he’d swap in to chat with Sarah about books, or let Thomas teach him how to throw a football, grumbling but clearly enjoying it.

  Sarah and Thomas in turn were delighted with this evolution, and slightly exasperated with the unexpected downsides when the siblings inevitably entered a creative name calling spat.

  “Chaos Goblin!”

  “Moppy haired monstrosity!”

  “Destructive little pipsqueak!”

  “Paranoid figment of my imagination!”

  Sarah had to inevitably break the spats that left her sighing in amusement and Thomas muttering something about whiskey.

  Outside of home however, it wasn’t so simple - the family still had to exercise extreme caution. They all knew the world was not ready for this knowledge; that two souls could coexist in one body - in harmony, share knowledge and experiences, become walking supercomputers.

  Nevertheless, the weight of keeping up experiences could be exhausting at times for Emily and Daniel. No - beyond exhausting.

  —

  Lily and Lucy were Emily’s best friends.And, by extension, Daniel’s.

  "I met them first, you know, Shrimp," Daniel liked to remind Emily. "You’re welcome, by the way."

  "Oh please, you’re lucky you didn’t scare them away, you grouch," Emily shot back. "Had they known you’re an over analytical, overprotective wannabe sentinel, they might have run the other way."

  "Like you’re any better, you overly sassy little sh—"

  And just like that, the conversation inevitably spiraled into affectionate bickering. However, hiding this secret from their best friends? That took a different kind of energy - some days, the toll was heavier than others.

  Emily looked at them wistfully sometimes—her best friends—the people she trusted most in the world. The people she knew she should be able to trust the most in the world.

  Lucy had already started noticing something was off. A few times, she had called Emily out on her odd moments—when her words seemed too wise, her movements too sharp, or her knowledge just a little too ahead of everyone else’s.

  Emily had managed to deflect any concerns thus far. She knew her secret was safe - after all, how could anyone guess that she wasn’t just one person?

  But it stung.

  She wanted to tell them.She should be able to tell them.But she couldn’t.

  One afternoon, the girls were sharing secrets—those “deep”, personal confessions that felt so important and world changing at ten years old.

  Lucy, ever the mischievous one, unsurprisingly had a crush.

  (“Already? Aren’t you all a little young for that?” Daniel muttered with a dry tone within Emily. “Or does puberty run a little different in this universe?

  “Danny, I swear - it’s not a real crush” Emily responded internally, her tone slightly exasperated.)

  "Toby is so cute," Lucy giggled, leaning in conspiratorially. "The way his eyes go wide and he ducks away if I even look at him? Boys are so silly."

  She grinned wickedly. "Sometimes I bump into him on purpose just to see him go red—it's like his entire head explodes! I didn’t know someone could actually turn that shade of tomato!"

  “Ass,” Danny sighed pyfully from within. “Girls start these cat-and-mouse games way too early. And we’re just supposed to know what it means? Seriously?!”

  Emily smirked at his dramatic suffering and just nodded, unsure what to add to Lucy’s excitement.

  Meanwhile, Lily’s secret was less about crushes and more about dreams.

  "I think I want to be a teacher when I grow up," she admitted, pying with a bde of grass. "Like Ms. Meredith. She’s so kind. So smart. I want to be like that, y’know? Make other Lillies feel safe, make them smile, help them learn."

  Daniel hummed thoughtfully. "She has a kind soul. She’d be good at it. Hopefully, this universe values teachers more than mine did."

  Emily’s stomach twisted as she thought back to memories of Daniel’s universe. His education system had almost completely deteriorated - it was in a word - bad. Underpaid teachers, underfunded schools, relentless pressure, scrutiny, constantly evolving licensing and certifications—it eventually crushed and spat out the very people who wanted to help.

  "Yeah... I hope so too," she thought, a little sadder than before, silently praying that her universe remained kinder, acutely aware of how fragile life was.

  "What about you, Em?" Lucy asked suddenly, scratching her hair as she squinted her eye. "You’re always thinking about something. What secrets are you keeping?"

  Emily’s breath caught. Simultaneously she felt Daniel tense inside her.

  Lucy’s tone was different this time - her body nguage may have appeared distracted, but Emily knew that her friend was very much paying attention - her voice softer, quieter, but knowing.

  Emily swallowed, and forced her body to stay level and rexed.

  “Oh you know, I don’t have any crushes yet, not sure what I want to be. Maybe a pilot or something” she replied, feigning nonchance, hoping that no one could hear her heart pounding like a drum.

  Lily tilted her head. "I dunno, you’re super smart, Em. Like weird smart. Sometimes I wonder if you’re two different people."

  Emily’s stomach flipped, she sat up slightly straighter. “There was no way she could have figured it out, could she?” she thought to herself as her breath hitched.

  Lucy nodded and continued "Like, you’ll be normal, and then boom, suddenly you’re some kind of superwoman. Like, you know everything. You say words I’ve never heard before, you’re just—" she hesitated, brow furrowing, "—wiser? I dunno. It’s just... weird, sometimes."

  Emily’s throat felt dry.

  Her eyes threatened to mist over.

  She desperately wanted to tell them.

  Her mouth opened and for a spell she came close - so close - her best friends, it felt wrong keeping them in the dark.

  Daniel’s voice came in quiet but sharp - "Don’t Shrimp. You know we can’t tell them. Not yet."

  Emily froze, her mouth still slightly open.

  "They might get it.” Daniel continued softly, sadly. “They might even understand. But what happens when they start talking? What happens if the wrong person hears?"

  The weight of it crashed down on her.

  She forced herself to exhale, to grin—to act normal."Well, compared to you, Lucy, sometimes even a pebble is wiser” she muttered with a feigned mischievous grin.

  There was a pause as Lucy stared at Emily, her eyes wide. Then she squeaked in outrage and pounced on Emily, tackling her. Lily waited then hopped on for good measure squishing Emily like a pancake. Emily ughed—really ughed, but inside - all the hiding still stung.

  —

  Some days, Emily and Daniel wished they could show Sarah and Thomas everything.

  Pull them into the dreamscape.

  Their shared world.

  Let them see what they truly were—separate, yet inseparable. Show them the avatars they had shaped, their distinct forms, their own identities. Show them the river, the sky, the spaces that belonged to them. Let them witness Daniel’s past—his memories of another Earth, another universe, a future that would never be theirs. Let them share the inside jokes, the quiet moments, the absurd things they did when no one else was watching.

  But more than anything, they wanted to build new memories together—as a family. Memories that no one else could dream of.

  Pun fully intended.

  After Sarah had inexplicably entered the dreamscape during Emily’s hospital stay, she and Daniel had become obsessed with understanding how to do it again.

  They knew how to shape this space, how to control it—but why it existed? That was still a mystery. And without understanding why, they were stuck at the edges of possibility, unable to push beyond what they already knew.

  They had spent hours debating, testing ideas, running small-scale experiments.

  And they had gotten nowhere.

  “I’m pretty sure physical contact is necessary, Shrimp,” Daniel mused one evening as the two of them hovered by their beloved dreamscape stream.

  The stream had been the first thing they had jointly created together, and as such, it had become something of a touchstone—a pce they inevitably gravitated toward when faced with a problem that felt too rge to solve.

  Emily, uncharacteristically quiet, tossed a pebble into the water. The ripples distorted their reflections, warping them before smoothing out once more.

  "Mom was touching my hand or something when she fell asleep, yeah. But I was also really, really drugged, Danny."

  Daniel rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. “That might’ve lowered some kind of mental barrier—made it easier to slip in. I mean, we don’t really know how this pce works.”

  Emily tossed another pebble. “So what, we need to knock me out with meds every time? That seems wildly impractical.”

  Daniel chuckled. “Well, in my old universe, they figured out that certain mushrooms, hallucinogens, and meditation could let people access different states of consciousness. Shamans, yogis, monks—they’ve been using that kind of thing for centuries.”

  Emily snorted. “Oh my God—can you imagine pitching that to Mom?” She grabbed a rger rock, hurling it into the stream with a dramatic sploosh. “Just—‘Hey, Mom, we need you to help us test something. Cool? Great. Just go find some LSD, light up or whatever you do, and maybe we can meet you in a dream world. Oh, and let your ten-year-old daughter have a hit, too.’”

  She turned to look at Daniel, eyes twinkling.

  “She would blue screen, Danny. And then probably blue screen us both permanently.”

  Daniel snickered. “Yeah, no way that’s happening. Although, I would pay to see Mom’s face.”

  The humor was a momentary reprieve, something to break up the impossible weight of their situation—but it didn’t st.

  Because beneath the jokes, the ache remained.

  Daniel exhaled, his voice quieter now. “I do want to see her here, though, Em.” He hesitated, then added, “Even d—your dad.”

  The word dad caught in his throat, but Emily understood.

  Through their bond, she could feel it—the hesitation, the unspoken weight of history. Daniel wanted to call Thomas dad—wanted to bridge that st, remaining distance—but something inside him kept jamming the signal. Maybe it was lingering hurt from how long Thomas had pushed him away. Maybe it was something deeper, something older, something from before this life.

  Emily reached out and ruffled his hair the same way he always did to her.

  A silent I hear you. I see you, my brother.

  She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Daniel had made peace with being invisible—most days. But even when he swapped pces with her, even when he lived through her, the fact that he could never be acknowledged as himself outside of their parents gnawed at him.

  It was like living inside a spy movie—always pretending, always watching, but never seen.

  If they could bring Sarah and Thomas here, into this world, it would change everything. It would make things feel fairer. More real.

  They didn’t know why.

  But they knew.

  Maybe then—just maybe—he’d be able to say Dad without choking on the word.

  So Emily kept trying.

  Sometimes, when she was sitting with Sarah or Thomas, she would gently take their hands, close her eyes, and focus. Try to pull them in. Try to find whatever bridge had allowed Sarah to cross before.

  And sometimes—just sometimes—she thought she felt something.

  A hum.

  A flicker.

  A shift in the air, a shimmer at the edges of her vision. It felt like an engine trying to turn over—like something was almost there.

  And then—nothing.

  A dead start. A connection severed before it could form. Like something was blocking it. Dragging it down.

  Like the engine was choking.

  It made her furious.

  One day, Sarah noticed.

  “What are you doing, Em?”

  Emily let go of her hand and sighed, getting up from the couch. “Oh… just trying to see if we can pull you into the dreamscape again,” she muttered, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

  Then she walked away—before she could see Sarah’s expression. Before her brother could feel the frustration boiling under her skin.

  Because it wasn’t just her who wanted to see her mother’s son.

  Sarah did too.

  —

  The venue in Chicago buzzed with energy, a sprawling, chaotic mass of too many voices, too much movement, too many things happening all at once. Conversations yered over each other like static, blending into a mess of ughter, shouting, clinking gsses, and the occasional crash as a child dropped something breakable. The rich, sharp scent of food hung in the air—something fried, something sweet.

  (“No butter chicken? No naan?” Daniel compined, mock offended, ever ready for Indian food. “I swear, cheese, burgers, more burgers, like there are no other food groups… philistines.”)

  Emily barely held back a ugh. As much as Daniel mocked the food, he was enjoying this—watching their parents weave their way through the family, seeing a glimpse of their life falling back into pce.

  Sarah and Thomas moved through it all with the cautious grace of people still figuring out where they fit. This was the first time they were fully immersed again in Thomas’s extended family. There were smiles, warm greetings, hugs that sted just a second too long, and the obligatory polite inquiries that tried to gloss over years of distance.

  Emily and Daniel felt it all.

  Emily, because she was watching everything—seeing her parents try, push through the tension, wear expressions that hovered and switched between comfort and hesitation.

  Daniel, because he had helped make this happen. He had helped Emily to push Thomas, he had watched, encouraged, nudged, helped her brainstorm and execute. Yes - time had been lost - but now there was hope once there wasn’t.

  Emily felt it radiating from him—a quiet pride, a satisfaction in seeing Sarah and Thomas surrounded by family again, even if it was awkward.

  "Look at them, Shrimp. We did that." Daniel purred from within radiating pulses of excitement.

  "We did," Emily agreed, watching as Thomas exchanged a firm handshake with an uncle who had likely once ignored his calls.

  Sarah was mid-ugh, her shoulders finally rexing.

  “Even mom is getting social!” Emily thought with an inner giggle. “Oh you know mom, wine…mom…they pair up well together” Daniel quipped happily.

  Across the room, a group of kids their age—cousins, maybe family friends—were caught in their own world. Some were jostling for turns at an arcade machine in the corner, others were tangled in an argument over the rules of some made-up game, their voices high and animated.

  Emily hadn’t thought much of it—until she felt a gentle tug from Daniel. It was subtle, barely noticeable. A flicker of something unfamiliar from him. A pull of curiosity. An instinctive want.

  Emily blinked, caught off guard. "Danny?"

  "Huh?" he shot back, his tone surprised.

  Emily smirked. "What, you wanna go py tag with the kids or something?"

  She expected the usual sarcastic, old-man response.

  Instead—there was a pause. A hesitation, a moment of consideration.

  “Eh. Please. I'd run circles around them. Undefeated champion. Retired early to keep it fair." he quipped. “Just…curious…what life could have been like that, thats all.”

  Emily ughed, but something about it felt off. She had known for a long time that Daniel had missed out on a lot, but for the first time, it occurred to her—maybe it wasn’t just childhood he had missed. Maybe it was the simple, stupid, unimportant things. The kind of things you don’t realize you want until they’re gone.

  She let it go for now - deciding to hold off on teasing her brother.

  Not that she had a choice, a long-lost aunt mysteriously apparated out of nowhere, eyes bright, warm, and locked onto Emily.

  “Oh, what a sweet girl!” she cooed. “Named after your mother, right, Thomas? Gwen?”

  Before Emily could react, she felt fingers pinching her cheek. "OW," she grunted in surprise and pain. Daniel, internally, squealed in horror. "AGH—YOU FREAKING STEREOTYPE? SHOO GO AWAY LADY!"

  Emily bit the inside of her cheek to keep from ughing.

  But then—

  The aunt turned to Sarah, nudging her.

  "So! When are you giving her a sibling?"

  The question was lighthearted. Casual, innocent - but it took the wind out of everyone’s sails.

  Sarah’s smile froze.

  Thomas’s grip on his drink tightened.

  And Emily felt it. And she wasn’t the only one.

  She felt Daniel react before she knew what happened - for just a fraction of a second, something inside her shifted.

  Her posture straightened. Her pyful energy drained away as Daniel swapped out with her. He noticed Sarah and Thomas’s eyes widened - they had seen the change, and recognized it all too well by now. The way their breath caught as combined emotions hit everyone.

  Daniel opened his mouth to say something and stopped. Instead, he turned and looked at Sarah and Thomas with a tired smile.

  Because what could he say?

  That Emily already had a sibling?

  That she was never alone?

  That her brother was always there, watching, protecting, guiding her?

  That Sarah and Thomas already had two children?

  That they had already adopted someone into their family?

  That he longed—so deeply, so desperately—to be acknowledged like Emily was?

  The words caught in his throat, so he swallowed them - and just smiled..

  A tight, fake, polite smile.

  Emily switched back in an instant, feeling her brother’s exhaustion and taking over, feeling the ache settle between them, unspoken.

  Thomas stepped in, clearing his throat.

  “Haha, yeah, well, you know," he said, voice just a little too cautious and tight. "Family comes in the most unexpected pces. Who knows what the future holds?"

  Sarah let out a slow breath, her hand drifting to Emily’s hair.

  She stroked it gently.

  Not just for Emily.

  For both of them.

  “The universe is strange,” she murmured softly, her voice warm, but just a little sad.

  “Sometimes it sends you a gift from the most unexpected pces.”

  Emily didn’t say anything.

  Daniel didn’t either.

  —

  Some days, the hardest part of keeping their secret wasn’t the physical act of hiding. It was the sheer exhaustion of slowing down—of purposefully throwing the race away.

  Since their merge, Emily and Daniel had become walking supercomputers—capable of computing absurd numbers in their heads, recalling information with near-photographic memory, and synthesizing knowledge at a speed that put them leagues ahead of even most adults.

  They weren’t omnipotent or omniscient, of course. Their understanding was still bound by what they had been exposed to—Emily’s world, Daniel’s past life, and the knowledge base of their current universe. They couldn’t, for instance, magically design a self-sustaining fusion reactor, but they could dismantle and reconstruct a computer down to the st board. Even if they did occasionally make mistakes—like the wiring debacle a few weeks ago. Emily had earnestly cimed they could now resolve the issue, having pored through and absorbed electronics manuals from her father’s office and the local library. (Sarah and Thomas had understandably decided not to test the veracity of this cim.)

  Often, this intelligence was channeled in the dreamscape, where they spent hours creating (or rendering, as Daniel called it in a nod to his programming obsession). They crafted environments both outndish and deeply personal—sometimes inspired by Daniel’s memories, other times by Emily’s experiences, or together using their joint imagination. They could recreate a childhood bedroom Daniel had forgotten, build futuristic cities, or dream up forests poputed by Emily’s hideous purple bunnies.

  It was the one pce they could be themselves, where nothing had to be hidden.

  Outside, however, slowing down could be exhausting—sometimes a boredom-filled nightmare. Unsurprisingly, on occasion, school could be excruciatingly dull.

  After all, if you could mentally compute numbers in the millions, how was long division supposed to be engaging? If you could memorize entire pages of textbooks in seconds, how were you expected to tolerate spelling worksheets?

  No—maintaining the front of mediocrity was the real challenge. Emily had to purposefully throw the game—make errors on tests, pretend to struggle, keep her vocabury in check.

  Daniel, on the other hand, found a strange kind of comfort in school. Sure, he hated the actual work, but the atmosphere? He cimed to find that oddly rexing—a far cry from the stuffy, SOP-driven bs and corporate offices he was used to.

  Most of the time, he stayed in the background, letting Emily handle social interactions. Still, when Lucy and Lily needed help, Daniel couldn’t help himself. He coached them through assignments, gave advice, even pretended to “struggle” alongside them.

  "You know, you really are like an overgrown border collie," Emily once teased, watching him patiently guide Lucy through a particurly nasty math problem. "You just adopt people into the pack whether they like it or not."

  Daniel didn’t answer, but she could feel him smile. His sister was right, after all—after a lifetime of feeling like a burden, he rather liked being the border collie.

  But Emily wasn’t as patient. She was ten—trapped in a cycle of pretending, sandbagging herself day after day. And some days, it slipped.

  Like during math css.

  "Shrimp," Daniel murmured in their shared mindspace as Emily scribbled an answer. "I know you know the answer, but normal people—even adults—don’t just guess that 351 times 25 is 8,775 in their heads. Maybe show some steps?"

  Emily huffed, her face scrunching as she glowered at the assignment in front of her, as if it had offended her personally. "What’s the big deal? Who’s gonna notice? Maybe they’ll just think I got lucky," she grumbled reluctantly.

  She felt Daniel sigh; she could feel him empathizing with her through their shared bond—but she also felt his caution. "Emily, these things add up. A shortcut here, another there… teachers talk. And then suddenly, people are paying attention."

  Emily grumbled. She didn’t need to hear him say the words—she had understood his intentions, his fears, his concern before the words came out. She knew her brother was right—so she listened. This time, anyway.

  Unfortunately, one particur day, she wasn’t as careful in science css—and inadvertently pyed her hand.

  A visiting high school science teacher was expining atomic structure to the css. It was an intro-level lesson—basic stuff. Protons, neutrons, electrons—an outreach-style program to help children develop an interest in the sciences.

  "And electrons," he continued excitedly, shaking a pstic atomic model, "whiz around the nucleus—just like pnets orbit the sun!"

  Emily moved faster than even Daniel could have predicted. Their sync temporarily broke, and she didn’t even think before she snorted in irritation.

  "Pretty sure electrons don’t orbit, Mister," she shot back, her tone bored, zily spinning her pencil between her fingers. "I mean, I thought they were in orbitals—discrete mathematical probabilities?"

  The teacher froze, turned toward her, and blinked, his mouth slightly open. "Uh… what did you say, young dy?" he stammered, slowly putting the model down.

  Emily shrugged, bored. She wasn’t trying to be a know-it-all, but today was one of those days that boredom short-circuited her self-control. And perhaps, deep down, she craved a more complex discussion. "You know, energy levels, atomic orbitals. Probability distributions. Electrons don’t really ‘whiz,’ they just… appear and disappear. Quantum stuff."

  The silence in the room was oddly deafening.

  The other kids stared.

  "Quantum?" one of them murmured.

  "Probabawhoo distriwhat?" another mumbled.

  The teacher hesitated, equally stunned. There was a long pause before his eyes grew serious, and he finally asked, "Where did you hear that?"

  "Oh, you know. Here and there," Emily mentioned nonchantly, drawing an electron shell diagram on her paper unconsciously.

  "Emily," Daniel warned in her mind, his tone suddenly sharp. "Let it go. He’s dumbing it down for kids. This is not the time to bring up college-level chemistry."

  Today was not the day Emily was inclined to listen, however. She was bored. Tired of pretending—and with her and Daniel’s sync slightly off, a little destabilized. She didn’t realize it, but it felt like a car whose engine and transmission were not quite engaging. Daniel was unable to modute their joint impulses, and as a result, she gave in.

  "Yeah," she continued, eyes locked onto the teacher, a frown developing on her face as she twirled her pencil. "And I heard that energy levels only hold certain numbers of electrons—because of quantum mechanical principles. Not perfect, but a decent model, because frankly, who understands the universe? Then you have wave functions, Heisenberg uncertainty principle—"

  "STUFF!"

  Her mouth snapped shut abruptly, her st word blurring into something else. Had Sarah and Thomas been there, they would have realized that the tone, the voice, had changed ever so slightly. After all, their son had forcefully yanked control and taken over.

  "Quantum stuff! Haha! I heard it on Discovery Channel! Quantum is so cool! Can you tell us about that too, Mister?!" he blurted, trying to emute the excitement of a ten-year-old child.

  Meanwhile, Emily seethed internally, even though she could feel the vestiges of his nervousness as their consciousnesses began drifting back into sync.

  "Danny—what the hell?!" she growled nonetheless.

  "Shrimp!" Daniel hissed, his voice panicked. "You can’t just talk about this stuff! What if some of it doesn’t exist here yet?! What if we’re ahead of actual science?! Are you TRYING to start the next scientific revolution in elementary school?! Don’t draw attention to yourself, ffs!"

  Thankfully, the feign worked - a few students giggled, the cssroom teacher shook her head with a knowing smile, as the visiting teacher’s confidence recovered.

  Mr. Carter chuckled. "Maybe in a few years, you’ll be in my advanced science css, huh?"

  Daniel nodded, as he and Emily continued smiling—feigning ignorance, feigning normalcy. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the lesson—Daniel because he was in full alert mode, Emily because she was tired. Tired of pretending.

  But they could feel it.The brightness of the spotlight, even if brief. The way the instructor’s gaze lingered perhaps a second too long. The way a few cssmates—not all, but enough—gnced at her, their expressions caught somewhere between amusement and calcution, as if unconsciously trying to make sense of what had happened.

  No one was outright suspicious. How could they be? After all, who would ever guess that two souls sat in that chair, that two minds spoke through one voice?

  And yet—it was a reminder.How easily they could slip up. How quickly the wrong words could pce them under a magnifying gss. How fragile the line was between ordinary and extraordinary.

  The reminder hit again as they walked outside for lunch.

  Lily and Lucy exchanged a gnce—a gnce of mutual confusion, concern. A gnce Emily caught instantly.

  "Okay, what is it…" Emily sighed, exhaustion creeping into her tone. Wondering how many more times she would have to dodge, weave, and fake her way through conversations before she could just tell them the truth.

  If ever.

  Lucy narrowed her eyes, something unreadable flickering across her face. Lily tilted her head, lips pursed, studying Emily like a puzzle missing a few pieces.

  Then, Lucy smirked. "So. How long have you been hiding your super-brain from us?"

  Emily ughed. Too quickly.

  "Oh, come on, it was just a guess," she said, hoping it sounded casual. She blushed slightly for effect. "You guys always say I read a lot. So why is this a surprise?"

  Lucy paused and arched a brow. "A guess? Em, I know you’re smart, but dang—you sounded like a college professor! I mean, I should know, my dad is one!"

  "Shrimp—deflect—NOW," Daniel urged in her head, his voice sharp with unease.

  Emily fshed her best exasperated look. "Please, Lucy. If I was secretly a genius, do you really think I’d still be in this school? I’d be sipping tea at a university somewhere, making you all call me ‘Dr. Parker.’"

  Lucy chuckled, shaking her head. "Dr. Parker has a nice ring." But she didn’t let it go right away. Her smirk faded slightly, eyes flickering with something—doubt? Thoughtfulness?

  "Yeah, fine, fine," Lucy conceded, but her voice was just a touch slower. "I sometimes forget you’re my goofball friend. But seriously, sometimes you sound so…"

  Lily nodded, softly agreeing. "You sound like a genius. A really smart, wise genius."

  Emily forced a grin, but inside, her stomach twisted. "Eh," she shrugged, forcing lightness back into her voice. "That just means you can steal my homework, right?"

  The tension cracked. Lily and Lucy giggled, just as she had hoped they would.

  In her mind, she exhaled. "See?" she told Daniel, her heart lighter. "We’re good. They don’t suspect anything, see we can get through this kind of stuff easy peasy!."

  Daniel did not reply immediately - he was unusually silent, as Emily felt him pondering quietly to himself. She felt traces of his confusion intermingled with concern and to her surprise, exhaustion? Her heart skipped a beat as she instinctively reached out to comfort her brother. “Danny—don’t overthink this. You always overanalyze, big bro…” she nudged him gently, perhaps more pyfully than she felt. “We’re good - we will be good, okay? No need to stress, I promise.”

  She felt him finally shrug, a relief tinged with concern on the edges of her concsiousness. "Yeah…yeah, you’re right” he mumbled - still quieter than typical. “Yeah, we are good.”

  Emily forced a smile, but her fingers curled a little too tightly around the hem of her shirt. At that moment, she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince more—Daniel, or herself, the nature of their secret quietly weighing her down.