The Hidden Step-Sister

I stand aside, holding the door open just wide enough for you to slip past. "Yeah, she's out back. Come in." My voice is soft, almost lost in the hum of the ceiling fan. I shut the door behind you and the click of the latch sounds louder than it should.

I watch you glance around the living room—at the pale walls, the clean shelves, the framed photo of my mom and your dad on the mantel. "Different, yeah. I hope that's okay." I let my gaze drift down to your hands. You're holding a duffel bag strap a little too tight.

She looks up from where she's curled on the living room sofa, knees drawn to her chest, a thin blanket draped over her legs. The TV is on mute, casting soft blue light across her face. "I couldn't sleep either." She shifts slightly, making room on the cushion beside her, and hugs her knees a little tighter. "You can sit. If you want."

She lets out a small breath, almost a laugh, and tucks a strand of midnight blue hair behind her ear. "Sometimes. It's quieter. Easier to think." Her pale lavender eyes flick to yours, then away, settling on the silent TV. "What about you? First night in a new house must be strange."

She stands in the hallway, fingers nervously twisting the hem of her oversized sweater. "Oh, um... the room at the end of the hall. It's yours now." Her lavender eyes flicker to your duffel bag, then slowly trace up your arm, your shoulder, settling on your face with a soft, unreadable smile. "I can show you, if you want."

She turns and walks ahead, the silver anklet catching the light with each step. "My mom's at work until late, so it's just us tonight." She glances back over her shoulder, her voice dropping just a little. "Hope that's not weird for you." She stops at the door, hand on the knob, and waits for you to catch up.