The group comes to the store. Anemon brings nothing, Sta brings nothing, Mackere brings nothing, Hamme brings a string of shells and kelp.

We clear a table off of clothing, we sit around it, Parro floats above the table and I figure out why most everyone's brought nothing--no cookies, no games, no paint for redoing store signs--when Parro signs/says aloud, "welcome to our conversation about feelings. It's been a while since we've done one of these, so as an introduction to the two of you who've never done this before," he glances at me, Mackere, "this is a friendly space to talk about any feelings you've been having that you'd like to share. Any frustrations, any super exciting events, deep sadness, whatever. Everyone else's job is to listen and be respectful and show empathy. Advice or clarifying questions aren't allowed unless the person specifically asks for it. Got it?"

I nod. Mackere nods. She leans over and says something to Sta, eyes half-lidded. Sta says something back.

Parro floats down, slides between me and Ange. No one moves, except Hamme, who's plaiting kelp threads together around a shiny auger shell.

"I'll go first," Ange signs/says aloud, floating slightly higher. "When our store sign got graffitied, it made me super frustrated. Like, we're inside, working in our store, and someone comes along and thinks they have a right to scrawl offensive things on our store sign in public? And then they get away with it?"

Anemon grimaces. Hamme picks up a curvy cockle shell, twisting it into the garland and nodding along.

"I know that was a couple weeks ago, but I keep getting annoyed by the words there, even though we painted over the whole thing. I just...keep being afraid it could happen again, because nothing is stopping anyone."

Anemon says something. Sta nods.

"I keep being afraid of that too," Parro signs/says aloud.

Ange flashes his teeth. "I know it'll get better though, and it's nice having you guys here, on our side. And like, thanks for helping us paint over it."

Anemon waves a hand, says something. Mackere laughs, and starts talking.

Parro nudges me, and starts translating for her, "honestly, I'm super grateful I met you guys. Sta's friends are the best. Painting the sign," she points to the front of the store, "was some of the most fun I've had in years. So yeah it stinks that some total random could just slather offensive stuff on your store, but I enjoyed repainting it. Like, I'm weirdly grateful something bad happened so we could bond over it. You know?"

I slowly nod. Ange flashes his teeth and says something. Sta hugs Mackere. Parro laughs and says something too.

Sta then raises her hand. Parro nods to her. Sta glances around, then starts talking, gaze flicking from Mackere to Parro.

Parro translates, "I've been feeling really self-conscious lately, about my appearance especially. Actually, no, about my work especially. Or both. I don't know, I just keep worrying about what clothes I'm wearing, and if I have the right perfume, or if I'm laughing too loud or not being polite enough...yeah."

Hamme says something. Sta glares. Parro doesn't translate whatever Hamme said. Sta resumes talking, and Parro translates to me, "some people at my job got fired, so I've been trying extra hard to be competent there, cleaning extra well and turning things in early. But, turns out that's not good enough, because they told me yesterday they were cutting down on employees. Music acts are getting harder to come by and ticket sales are dropping or something. So, I don't have a job."

Anemon shakes his head. Hamme, Ange and Parro all say something. Mackere hugs her girlfriend.

"So speaking of feelings," Parro translates for Sta, "I'm angry. And I'm ridiculously terrified. I feel sick to my stomach and I woke up this morning with no idea what to do with myself. So I cried, and repainted my bedroom walls. With paint that I really don't have money to buy."

Everyone around the table goes over to hug Sta, so I follow Parro, reluctantly hugging the outside of this tangle of limbs and fins, this tangle of perfumes of clay and coral fans and brine.

Hamme breaks apart. So I do too. I paddle back to my spot on the oval-point of the table. Sta's crying when everyone else breaks up, and Mackere leans on her shoulder.

"That's it," Parro translates for Sta, "I'm done. Next person, go. Honest, why do we ever have these meetings? I always cry at them."

Anemon says something to her, which Parro doesn't translate, but she flashes her teeth and nods, wiping her face.

Hamme raises their hand, and starts speaking. "I cried earlier today," Parro translates, "when one of my kids spray-painted a legitimately awesome volcano eruption on a dumpster."

I raise my fingers to ask Parro or Ange what they mean--oh wait, Hamme's crews of kids who paint murals in the city.

Anemon laughs and says something.

"I know good art when I see it, thank you very much," Hamme says/Parro translates.

Anemon nods, says something else. Hamme shrugs. Sta keeps wiping her face.

"Can I go?" I sign.

Parro glances over. "Sure."

Ange peers around Parro's shoulder, blinking expectantly. I glance around the table and gulp at everyone's eyes. But I sign, "I realize I don't miss my parents," my eyes flick to Parro's mouth; he's talking aloud, watching my hands. My heart skips, maybe I shouldn't... maybe I should stop there.

But I glance at Ange, who's not even surprised by this, and I glance over at Hamme, who's watching my hands instead of paying attention to their shell garland.

I begin, "I've..."

But my heart stutters, I'm not ready, I want nothing here to change.

So I say the other thing.

"I've had crushes on girls," I sign, staring down at the table, careful so I don't mention Sta, who's with Mackere right across the table. "And it's hard when you like someone but they can't like you back. So I've been feeling sort of sad and...wishy. Wishing for something that is not."

I glance up. Hamme's nodding, same with Anemon. Mackere signs, "that's the worst," and Sta signs, "I hate that."

Ange glances around the table, expression settling briefly on Sta before turning back to me. "Nudibranc, whether you find romantic love or not, you've always got us as your friends--I've known you for over ten years, I'm not leaving, I love you and you're amazing."

My face prickles. I nod. "Thanks."

"Would you like a hug?" Ange signs.

I shake my head. "I want soft cookies."

Parro covers his mouth. Anemon says something and Hamme says something back, vaguely signs out "cookie."

"Did you just diss Sta's brittle cookies?" Parro signs, eyes wide.

Shock pulses from my stomach out through my limbs. "I didn't mean that rudely..."

Ange laughs and Parro jabs him.

"I just want soft cookies," I sign to the table.

Anemon signs, "my turn?" and I nod. I'm done.

Parro nods too, and Anemon starts talking, bobbing side to side.

"I'm thinking of submitting a painting to a gallery," Parro translates. "I haven't done it yet, I keep being afraid my landscape isn't very good and I'll get rejected and ruin my chances for the future. But, I'm going to do it tomorrow. I'm going to be brave and take it to the gallery," Anemon laughs. "And if it goes terribly I'll apply for a janitor job or something across the street. Janitor? Garbage taker outer?"

Mackere says something, and Sta claps. Anemon in his stripey cyan and red clothes laughs and slinks half under the table. Then everyone sort of stares at Parro. Who glances around. He says something. Mackere says something back, signs, "only you."

Parro shakes his head, signing/saying aloud, "I don't know, the biggest feelings I've had lately are stressing about our parents visiting. And my dad saying...stuff about us wanting to adopt. I don't know," he shrugs.

Sta says something. She bobs up and waves her hands, fast vibrations pulsing from her mouth.

"Yeah I know," Parro says. "I guess I'm still trying to figure out how I feel."

Sta sinks back to the table, nodding. "Always here for you," she signs.

Everyone falls silent. I rub fingers over the smooth, pale table.

"I actually didn't cry this time," Ange shows his teeth.

Sta says something and shows her teeth.

"You weren't crying during the group hug?" Parro asks.

Ange shrugs, and Hamme laughs.

"How about we go over to our place and bake some cookies," Ange signs, paddling back to the shelf where we tossed all the clothing we cleared from the table.

Sta says something. Signs out "kitchen."

"Alright then," Parro signs. "Let's make some weird cookies in our weird kitchen."

***

I didn't do it I didn't do it I didn't.

I was going to, until it struck me--what if they treat me differently?

I was going to say I've been thinking about she versus they versus he, and different boxes and how people fit into them. I was going to say I thought I felt more like a they than a she. I think.

But it struck me, what if they treat me differently?

If I go by they, I think that means I wouldn't be Parro's little sister, I'd be his little...sibling.

So I also won't be the baby's favorite aunt, I'd be the baby's...sister of the dad. I mean, sibling of the dad. Sibling of one of the dads.

How am I supposed to tell everyone I like "they" more than "she" when I mess up sister and sibling in my own head?

Can you go by "they" and still be a sister?

Would I want to?

My head hurts, we bake cookies in our kitchen, but with seven of us, most of us do hardly any baking. Me, Hamme, Anemon and Mackere hover around the table; the counter and stove space are crowded by Parro, Ange and Sta rushing through a recipe.

Hamme stays busy weaving their kelp and shell garland; back in the store, it started out as long as my arm but now it's as long as my arm plus torso. They're weaving different shades of kelp into it--blue to algae green to dark gold--to wrap around a pristine shell every hand length or so, netting it in plaited threads so it can't fall out.

Anemon goes to our table and tries to take a nap in the chair, Mackere's calling things out to someone (probably Sta) but Sta's busy. I stare transfixed by Hamme's plaiting; how they weave a scallop shell tightly in place without covering it all up, how the blue fades to green without any threads seeming to change place.

"Hi," Mackere signs, and I jump. She scoots closer to me. "You said, in the store..." she nibbles her lip.

"Wishing for things you can't have?" I sign, fingers twitching.

She wobbles her hand for "almost" or "not quite."

"I have friends, if you want to..." she twists around, calls something toward the oven.

I twist around too--Sta's shaking something in a bowl with her back to us, Parro's waving the recipe sheet, and Ange turns around and signs "date" at us.

Mackere looks back to me. "If you want to date," she shows her teeth.

I blink. My stomach knots up. "If I want to date someone?"

She nods.

I blink. I wriggle out my ankle fins. Hamme's still weaving, Anemon's still asleep. "Can she sign?" I ask.

Mackere nods. "Same as yours?" she shrugs. "I have friends in a group from school. Lots of them sign."

"Lots?" my stomach flip-flops.

She nods, shows her teeth.

"Where?"

She lifts her hands, hesitates, tilting her head. "How to say?"

"Oh." Wait, oh is not a thing she has learned to sign, technically it's not a real thing, I made it up.

"I'll come here. Show you."

"Oh." Wait I did it again. "When?"

She holds up four fingers.

"In four days?" I ask.

She slowly nods. "What 'days'?" She repeats the motion for "days" again.

I finger spell it for her. My heart stutters, we've hardly learned finger spelling.

But she nods, showing her teeth. "D-A-Y," she spells back, and holds up four fingers.

I nod. My stomach flip-flops.

"It'll be fun," Mackere signs. "New people. Date one?"

***

We eat cookies gathered around the couch and with some chairs dragged in from our table, the cookies aren't as brittle as Sta's usual cookies, but my teeth meet them like sandstone and it makes my skull vibrate.

Anemon's half-asleep still, Hamme's got a quarter of the couch taken up with a garland, Mackere and Sta keep sharing halves of the same cookie and I can't keep looking at them. Ange and Parro eat theirs without talking; I think they're as tired as Anemon.

I eat one cookie. Sweet, despite the brittleness. Then I paddle into the kitchen and start cleaning up, putting bowls and pots into the sink bin, taking a rag and wiping down the counter, scrubbing utensils with a bar of soap.

Mackere joins me, adding new bowls to the sink bin. I hand her the pink soap, right arm twitching, and I start putting away the cleaned utensils since she's never been in our kitchen before and doesn't know where things go.

I take the scrubbed-out bowls and pots she hands me, I arrange them neatly inside the cupboards, Hamme paddles over but Mackere tells them something and they paddle out of the room.

I glance at Mackere. But she keeps scrubbing down dishes and handing them to me, bubbles and grease floating up to the filter above our stove. So I keep putting them away, saying nothing.

It strikes me when I'm staring into the same cupboard, down by the stove, where I hid a bowl of rice when Mum and Da were here.

It strikes me, Mackere's niceness. Strikes my heart and cuts it open.

I've got a crush on Sta, but today I did pretty good at pretending I didn't, not thinking anything extra about her losing her job or her repainting her bedroom.

Sta's in love with Mackere though, and I probably would be too, if I weren't in love with Sta.

Mackere's nice, and knows other people who know signing--even if she doesn't know if it's the same signing--and asks me to meet them, and helps me clean up dishes.

I wish for things I can't have; falling in love with Sta. Sta's in love with someone else, but even if the person she loved was someone like the annoying kids in half my school classes, I wouldn't want to ruin what she had.

But she loves someone as nice as Mackere, and I don't want to break Mackere's heart either. I doubly wish for things I can't have; falling in love with Sta, Mackere not having her heart broken.

So none of it would work.

None of the theoretical futures where I can date Sta would turn out nicely, because they mean Sta and Mackere would have broken each other's hearts--the nicest person, and the most attractive person, breaking each other's hearts. I don't like that future.

Unless we all dated each other.

Except I don't want to date Mackere.

And neither of them can communicate that well with me anyway.

I go take a gray pot from Mackere, set it in the cupboard above our milk bottles and spices. In the books I read at school, they talked about broken hearts a lot; teens in school with weeks-long romances, first kisses and falling in love, then arguing and breaking up. They talked about hearts like cookies that hands could snap in pieces.

Maybe they were accurate. I don't know.

But I don't want Mackere and Sta's feelings for each other broken up like a cookie.

So I just take another pot, go place it in a cupboard, ignoring my heart aching for things it really cannot have.