Oliver stared a little longer at the photo, blinking those unwanted tears from his eyes before setting it back down and turning toward his bed. 

"CHEESE and crackers!" He gasped. Once again, the same stupid clown with her stupid face and stupid smile stared at him from somehow- inside his bed. Clipping through it like a badly developed video game.
It dropped for a moment and some small look of artificial terror streaked across her face as though she were mimicking him, but quickly returned to that ostensibly quiet confusion. 

"Are you enjoying this? Scaring the ever loving crap out of me?! Don't you have something better to do?" Oliver grit his teeth, "like falling out the window or something?" 

He glared back at the clown, catching some semblance of movement before she turned heel, walking toward his bay window and plummeting backwards through the glass. 

"Wait-" Oliver gasped in astonishment, feeling his heart immediately drop to his feet.

He clambered over his bed to try and reach her before she phased through the screen, only to slam his knuckles hard against the glass instead. The kid quickly threw the window open and peered down, at what he could only imagine was going to be the splattered remains of clown guts. A deep dark part of him almost wanted her organs to be made of balloons and confetti. 

However, that wasn't what he saw, to a surprising amount of relief, the- whatever she was- was entirely intact. No splatter whatsoever, she simply stood on the ground looking up at him with this face that screamed 'okay I did what you asked, be happy now?' Like a puppy dog expecting a treat for their trick. 

Oliver let out a small sigh, and lumbered out of his room, down the stairs to confront her. 

"That wasn't funny!" He spat, flailing his arm toward her. As if to gesture that the average thought process of deliberately falling through a window, was indeed as heinous as it sounded. Ignoring the fact that he had made the request. 
Wasn't his fault she was that dumb. 

"What were you thinking?! You can't just jump out a window because someone asks you too!" he yelled, his voice cracking slightly with his exasperation. "Are you really that stupid?!" 

"SAY SOMETHING!" 

Oliver seethed, staring down the freak, feeling his face burn with rage at her. 

This was on purpose. She did it on purpose, just to screw with him- how was he supposed to know she would actually go through the window. How was he supposed to know she'd actually be fine?! 

And that ridiculous face, acting confused- scared, even. 

"Come on! Talk!" He chided, scooping up a rock from the grass and throwing it at her feet. She dodged it effortlessly, removing her eyes from him to stare at the tiny weapon. 

"Say something!" He held down his own vindictive laughter as he tossed another rock at her, plunging it through whatever freakish body she had and splattering black sparkling goo on the dirt. This time she flinched, her eyes darting back at him as her painted face wiled out in squiggling streaks. 

"I know you can!" He spat angrily, rearing up to toss a good one, hitting her right smack in the nose with his last pebble and feeling slightly pleased with himself and the good aim. 

The clown's face contorted and twisted up in pain and his triumphant little grin dropped the moment she opened her mouth, letting out a painful, ear wrenching metallic howl. 

Her entire body collapsed into a swirling mass of darkness that blotted out any light that touched it, undulating and crying, lashing out at the grass, forming hands and claws and teeth, tentacles and tails as the abomination grappled with it's form.

Oliver scrambled backwards, tripping on his feet in his terror, tears bubbled in his eyes at the thought of what the monster might do in retaliation. This was it. This would be his last moment before being eaten or killed by whatever on god's green earth this thing was. 

He clenched his eyes shut, too terrified to see it, too afraid to move or scream or think. Until a hand reached out and rested on his tightly balled fist.

"M-mom?" He trembled, his entire body wracked with the tension of tightening every last muscle he had. If he died, that's who he would want to bring him away.

Another hand glided across his cheek, causing his eyes to flutter open. He sat on the ground, clinging to the grass and dirt, staring into the eyes of the clown. 

She didn't look scary, or even angry- in that moment of small quiet, instead her brow was furrowed in a way that showed inexplicable concern. There was this calming air about her that reminded him so much of his mother that it almost hurt as much as it made him feel safe.  

"I'm sorry I scared you." 

Oliver blinked. It was clear as day but the creature's mouth never once opened. It was like she reached into his head and whispered it with his own thoughts. 

"Did you just-" 

"I'm so sorry, I didn't-" whatever telepathic message the clown had was cut off as he scrambled away in disbelief, wrenching his hands from under hers to hold himself in a moment of much needed recomposure. 

"You can read my mind," He spoke in a hushed voice, still trying to gather his thoughts. The clown reached out once more and he snatched his hands away quickly. 

"You- you can read people's minds?" He echoed the thought, looking back at her with bewilderment. She stared at him, her eyes flickering from side to side as she seemed to think of what to do next. 

Then, she situated herself comfortably on the dirt, maintaining some bit of distance before holding out a gloved hand and waiting patiently for him to do something. 

Oliver hesitated, his eyes glanced down at her hand and then at her sympathetic face as she stared at him intently. 
He reached out, pressing the tips of his fingers to hers, and immediately felt that same calming energy surround him like a soft blanket. 

"Yes." 

He snapped his hand back at the reply, staring at his fingers as he wiggled them in confusion, then at the clown, who hadn't moved an inch. 

"Do..do you only do it by touching someone?" He questioned. She glanced down at her hand, expectantly waiting for him and he obliged. 

"Yes." She answered. Oliver nodded, and scooted just a little closer to prevent the cramp that was building up in his forearm. 

"Can you talk at all without touching someone?" He asked aloud, the alien paused, her eyes looking up at the sky as she thought. 

"I don't know." She answered. It was such a strange feeling, he knew that it was his voice in his head saying these things, but at the same time, it wasn't. 

"How does it work?" 

"I'm not sure..I think- abstract thoughts?" 

He wasn't entirely content with the answer- but it seemed to be final to the creature. 

"Do you have a name?" Probably should have asked this one first, but the concept of a telepathic clown overtakes common pleasantries. 

"Dindet." She answered, her eyes moved upward to meet his and he echoed the name aloud before following up with the real question. 

"Why did you come here?" 

"I think..." She hesitated, and static began to grow in his head, it wasn't his though, it must have been from her.

"You asked me to." 

"Absolutely not." 

If he hadn't already reached maximum capacity for alien shenanigans and cryptic stalker clowns from an unknown part of his mother's scientific past- this would be that moment. 

It was already plenty stress dealing with the fallout, the funeral, transition, and school on top. He definitely didn't need, or want, a stupid clown with a stupid name talking through his thoughts, telling him that somehow- apparently, in a world he wasn't aware of- he legitimately asked her to come along to ruin his life even further. 

Oliver pulled his hand back, stood up and brushed the dirt from his clothes along with the preposterous idea. 

"I never asked anyone to bring a freak like you here- I definitely didn't ask you personally, so leave me alone." He muttered, resuming his disgruntled frown and swiping his hand away from the miscreant's prying fingers. 

"Don't touch me." He shot, "Talk like a person or go screw with someone else." 

Dindet lowered her hand with a somewhat somber pause before that cheeky grin slipped across her face, which only served to annoy Oliver further. 

"I'm not a person!" The voice was loud and clear in his head, causing the boy to whip around, removing whatever contact caused him to hear it. 
The clown giggled in his head, donning a sly little grin as she pointed at his shadow. 

It wasn't a shadow though, it was an extension of whatever she was, sliding right under him. 

"Stop that!" Oliver lifted his feet, pulling the gelatin with him. It didn't feel like any particular type of substance- like liquified air or maybe glue if he really had to guess. 

"Stop what?" She asked, though he knew there was a hint of a joke in her tone.

"Touching me! It's gross- you're gross!" He iterated, kicking his heels against the dirt to push the goop off, instead it separated into perfect little beads that connected to each other in a sticky, unwanted ankle bracelet. 

"Please teach me?" The question was earnest enough to give Oliver a moment of pause from his half-balanced, one legged attempt at tearing the living accessory off. 

"What? No! Figure it out on your own- get- get this thing off of me!" He stumbled, just as his middle finger wedged itself in between the now solid bracket and twisted in an attempt to stay upright while the freak of nature casually walked around him with a more than unnecessary look of amusement on her face. 

"If you promise to teach me, I'll remove it." She pointed silently at the hexagonal house arrest. "If you don't I can make it heavier." 

With a slight wiggle of her finger, the bracelet packed itself densely around his ankle, the weight of it offsetting whatever balance he had left and forcing the kid toppling over into the dirt again. 

"Okay, okay fine, I'll teach you just get it off!" 

Oliver begrudgingly sat on his bed, staring down at the heavy bracelet around his ankle. He shot a glare at the cause that sat eagerly in front of him while he flipped through his biology book.

"Do you really have to leave it on?" He huffed, turning to the human anatomy section to try and figure out what exactly constitutes as essential for speech. 

"I can't say anything to you without it. So for now, it stays." Personally, he would have rather tuned her out entirely but she, for some God forsaken reason, thought the best way to keep him on track was to start screaming terrible improv songs. 

"How did you make that shrieking noise earlier?" Oliver questioned, trying to find some kind of connection between that and talking. It was the closest thing he had at the moment. "That's kind of like talking right?" 

Dindet put her finger to her chin in contemplation of the idea, before answering in his head. "I think I did this." 

The clown repositioned herself slightly and smiled, and a horrendous, piercing cry, like two icebergs slowly rubbing against one another with a symphony of knives on porcelain plates situated in it center, emanated from her entire body so loudly that it shook the foundation of the house. 

"OKAY STOP!" Oliver howled, cupping his ears from the skin crawling noise. 
Dindet's screeching stopped, followed shortly by thundering steps down the stairs and the door being swung open by his dad. 

"Is everything alright?!" Jon huffed half out of breath, his eyes flickering from his son to the clown and back. "What on earth are you doing?" 

"Trying to teach her words." He replied, rubbing his ears to help pop them a bit. 
Jon straightened up a little, and collected himself with a brush of his collar. 

"Right, see? I knew you could get along." He smirked with a nod causing his son to grow slightly flush at the notion. 

"She put a cuff on me!" He retorted, lifting his leg to show off the proof of his detainment. 

"That's great, Oliver." Jon remarked, no longer listening, as he was already halfway up the stairs. Oliver let out a mild huff of dismay before turning back to his anatomy book. 

"Okay, how did you do that?" He grumbled, turning the page to the intestines. 

"I don't know." 

Seriously? How do you not know how you make noise but do know how to telepathically talk to someone.

"Are you really that stupid?" Oliver gawked at her, baffled by her complete naivety concerning her own species. "Were you born yesterday or something?"

"Yes!" 

Oliver stopped himself and lifted his head to stare at the clown. 

"You're serious." There was little chance she wasn't, honestly, he didn't really know what to believe. Dindet nodded gleefully, like it was a genuine compliment. 

"Why does that make so much sense?" He whispered under his breath before turning the book around to show the alien what he had found. 
"You're supposed to have these, every person has them and we use them to breathe, they are called lungs." 

Oliver pointed at the diagram to show her where they were, then trailed his finger up to the vocal cords and esophagus.

"We also have these, we use these to talk and sing, and my mouth and nose-" he pointed to his own face this time, demonstrating the action of breathing through each at a time. "The holes are where the air goes in, down the windpipe, and into the lungs. And it all together makes me able to talk with vibrations." 

"I don't have any of those." Dindet said softly, reaching at the book to grab a better view. 

"Right." Oliver nodded, "because you're not a person." 

"I think.." he hesitated at the idea, not really wanting to risk his eardrums, but also greatly preferring that over her nonstop static in his head. "I think if you do that shriek thing but instead try to make words, you can learn to talk." 

"Really?!" The static cut away with her enthusiasm at the idea and she bounced lightly on the bed. 

"Yeah- uh, try saying something out loud?" 

"Like what?" 

"Anything." He sighed, searching his room for something simple enough to say. His eye caught a photo he had taken of the sunset last summer, photo...good enough.

"Say photo." 

"Photo" 

Oliver rolled his eyes, "not in my head, say it out loud. It doesn't work if you say it in my head." 

"I can't." She replied, once more in his head. The static around her intrusive thought grew a little louder in her followed silence.

"Why not?" He replied incredulously, causing the static to further increase until a soft thought interrupted. 

"I don't know your language." 

"How do you not know my language?! You're talking to me in it, in my own head!" He exclaimed, getting more and more fed up with the effort. Dindet's face streaked with mirrored anger at his words, if only for a short moment. 

"I'm using your knowledge- not mine!" She retorted, "I can't say what I don't know." 

"Alright." Oliver threw up his hands in defeat and slid off the bed. "Fine."

He moved over toward a shelf full of knick knacks and old books, pulling out a dictionary and tossing it at the clown. 

"I don't care how you do it, osmosis or whatever- just learn." He grumbled, trudging down the stairs to the living area to turn on something that would occupy his mind other than babysitting a stupid alien clown.

This whole thing was a waste of time.

Oliver flopped down on the couch and fiddled with the remote, trying to find something to watch. Anything that would drown out the noise of his parasitic house guest.
It was like she had nothing in her head at all times, just this god awful noise that permeated everything like tinnitus, but slightly worse. 

He flipped the channel to an old sitcom, preferring the laugh track over the other noises. Some show about friends or the like- it didn't matter, really. 
He simply wanted to be rid of the freak for a moment long enough to not explode. 

How do you not know anything about what you are? What you are made of? If you can be born in a day and not even have to be a baby and grow up, or learn to walk, how can you possibly be so ridiculously dumb at the same time? 

He felt a little bad at the thought. He didn't really do anything to help with that. It's not like she had anyone to raise her. Could she even have parents? 

The thought was like salt on a fresh wound- no mom or dad. No way to even talk to anyone. No one to protect you when things got...

Maybe he should actually try to help. 

Dindet stared at the open dictionary, trying to make something of the squiggles and symbols that she recognised through repetition, but nevertheless, couldn't understand. She tried though, hard as she could until something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. 

A piece of glass, that was clamped against a wooden frame that held a tiny still memory. The alien crawled over the bed and stood up to inspect it further, it had the boy she was here with, and the man. And someone else. 

Dindet drew the photo closer, drinking in every detail of the image, something about it was familiar in a way she couldn't yet comprehend and as she stared at it, she felt like the dimension she stood in had tilted slightly. 
T̸h̷a̸t̸'̵s̷ ̸n̶o̷t̵ ̴r̷i̴g̴h̴t̶.̶

Her attention flickered though, very briefly to some folded up piece of paper shoved unceremoniously under the boy's alarm clock, with big red letters on it that she couldn't understand. She reached down and tugged at it, unfurling the thin slice, until the big letters on it were far easier to see. 

"What are you doing?" Oliver's voice came from the doorway, interrupting her moment of solitude. There was a genuine look of concern in his eyes for the smallest of seconds, before it was quickly replaced with annoyance and a rage that Dindet could palpably taste. 

"Don't touch that." The sternness of his voice prompted her to immediately set the paper down but before she could, he snatched it out of her hands and shoved her back, forcing the alien to ripple in effort to remain intact. 

"You're scared."she said, though something was different about the clown now, like that silly, close to annoyingly contagious joy was sucked away. Or perhaps it was her silence coupled with the noise in his mind that he had a feeling only came from her. 

Oliver's scowl dropped and for a second, he forgot that she couldn't actually read. It made his heart almost skip a beat.  

"It's not important," he answered, folding the court order back into a tiny square and shoving it deep into his pocket. 

"What is it?" 

"I told you, it's not important, and it's not any of your business anyways." Oliver shooed her away, despite knowing that it probably wasn't going to work. It didn't. 

Dindet dipped around his bed, leaning a tad too close to him as if she were trying to read something over his shoulder, even though nothing was really there. "Then why are you scared?"

"I'm not." 

"You're lying."

"Do you want help?" He promptly evaded. What a glorious way to phrase it, Ols, do you want help- of course she wants help why not say something smart like 'I'm sorry I threw rocks at you and called you a freak'- do you want help. 

She didn't answer in his head, or if she did he didn't hear it. Instead, she bowed her head slightly in a nod, and stepped away from him, discontent to leave him alone about it. 

The kid leaned back and grabbed the dictionary he'd thrown her earlier, hoping to distract her with stupid words so she wouldn't go digging through his stuff like a creep. 
"So first, I'll show you the alphabet. It's A B C D..."