"It was you," I hiss, as the pieces fall into place. "You did this to me!"

"What do you mean?" Marco says it way too carefully. I know my brother. He knows exactly what I mean.

"You talked to Mom and Dad about me!" I jump out of bed, unable to keep still. "I knew this whole moving out idea didn't come from them. They'd never kick me out on their own. I just thought it was Aldo."

"I didn't—"

"Oh yes you did!" I snap.

He lets out a breath. "Okay, I may have had a conversation with Mom and Dad, and it may have been around your birthday-"

"I knew it!" My victory fades quickly, and in its place I get a lump in my throat. "Marco, how could you?"

For as long as I can remember, he's always been on my side. The one I could count on the most. And all this time, he thought I was a failure too. Because that's what this is really about, isn't it? Lissa's not mature enough. Lissa needs to get it together. Lissa's a pathetic mess and we have to fix it.

"I just want you to be happy," he tells me, and the way he says it, the fact that it's him and I know he means it, somehow hurts more than anything else he could've said. Marco thinks I'm a disaster and I can't even blame him for trying to help me because maybe he's right.

I wish for a moment that I was more like Gina, who's always steely and rational, or Christy, who can make herself cold and sharp enough to cut you down when she needs to. Instead, my voice wavers when I say, "I know I don't have a real career, or a steady relationship, or a fancy degree. I know that I'm not very grown up or responsible, and I know you just want to help. But you can't make me something I'm not, Marco. Sorry to disappoint."

Then I hang up before he can say anything else, and bury myself under my pillows. One good thing about moving out: there's no one here to watch me cry.

"No. Freaking. Way."

"I told you, it's there!"

I half-open one eye, still mostly asleep, and scream when I see an unfamiliar face inches away from mine. Bolting upright, I press into the corner of my bed, holding my blanket around me like this will somehow protect me.

There are boys in my room. Two boys. They're both lanky and look barely out of their teens, with too-long hair and clothes that I'm pretty sure have never been fashionable. One of them, the boy who was leaning over me, takes his glasses off to wipe on his oversized shirt.
"Who are you?" I splutter. The thought comes to me that they don't look like burglars, and then I feel stupid for thinking it. I've obviously been watching too much TV.

"We'll ask the questions here," the guy in the back says. His t-shirt advertises Olga's Oranges! We got the fruit, you bring the freak! The cartoon orange on the front is wearing chaps and a cowboy hat. For some reason I get stuck trying to process this. How would you put chaps on an orange?

Oranges scowls at me. "What business do you have on this planet? Did you kill the human whose skin you're wearing?"

Okay. What?

I gape at them, and wonder if this is my groggy brain's fault for not being able to catch up. Maybe there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for why two strangers, one of them sporting the absolute worst company slogan I've ever heard, would be in my room asking me why I'm on this planet, and my mind just isn't alert enough to put the pieces together.

Rebecca, thank God, chooses this moment to walk in. She doesn't seem either surprised or alarmed by my unexpected guests.

"Hey. Um. Do you know these guys?" I tip my chin in the direction of Glasses and Oranges. "And maybe could you please tell them to leave my room? Now?"

"Sorry." Rebecca blushes. "This is Arvo—" pointing to Glasses, "—and Simon. They're my brothers in the Order of Erudites."

Brothers in the what of what?

"Rebecca, we found the mark," Arvo tells her, looking very serious. "It's like I said. You're too gullible."

"It could have dissected your brain while you slept," Simon accuses. "Or taken you back to its people to experiment on you."

I hold my hands up. "Okay stop. Everyone just stop. What mark? What are you talking about?"

"The Jovian mark, behind your ear." Simon points at the spot he'd been examining when I woke up. "From where you sewed yourself into the human skin. What I want to know is, was she already dead when you found her?"

Still not understanding what they mean, I bring my fingers up to touch the spot behind my ear. I feel a small, curled scar.

"Look, I don't know what a Josie-whatsit mark is—"

"Jovian," Arvo offers helpfully. "It means alien."

"Right. That. But I got this scar from a raccoon when I was sixteen." I shudder at the memory. The freaky thing had climbed my back. "So, that's why I have it. It's got nothing to do with sewing or aliens."

"Nice try," Simon scoffs. The cowboy orange on his t-shirt now looks disapproving too. "We know better than to fall for those tricks. Aliens are notorious liars."

I'm getting nowhere with him. Turning to Rebecca, I try, "I'm really tired from moving in and I don't think I'm really following this conversation. Can we talk about it in the morning?"

"You mean after you've taken her back to your planet to steal her body and implant one of your brethren in it?"

This Simon dude has got a wild imagination.

Rebecca fidgets. I'm struck with the fact that I know very little about her. My parents were the one who found her ad looking for a roommate, and aside from a background check she passed and a short interview with no red flags, she's a stranger. "Member of an alien cult" would have been a good detail for her to include on the apartment listing.

"I'm... really sorry Lissa," she says, not meeting my eyes, "but it's against the rules for a member of the Order of Erudites to house an extraterrestrial."

My mouth drops open. "You're kidding me."

Arvo shakes his head vigorously. "Not kidding. You've got to go."

"But it's-— I pick up my phone. "One in the morning! You're going to kick me out in the middle of the night?"

Rebecca wrings her hands, her expression anxious. "I don't want to, but I just can't risk it. I mean, you do have the mark."

"It's a scar! From getting stitches!" There's no way this is actually happening. Except, looking around at the three of them, I realize that they're not budging. They're actually going to kick me out. With all my stuff. In the middle of the night.

I consider calling the police. This has to be breaking some kind of law.

"We have a contract," I bluff, zero percent sure this is true, but it sounds right. "If you evict me, I can sue. And my brother's a lawyer."

I tack that last part on at the end just to try and sound more intimidating. I seriously doubt Aldo would bother with a case like this. Eviction disputes are below his pay grade. Although, getting to see my very sensible brother argue in a court of law that my roommate cannot, in fact, kick me out on the grounds of me being an alien would probably be the highlight of my twenties.

Simon narrows his eyes at my threat. "Did you actually sign the contract?"

And this is of course the moment when I remember the very important document that I was told to sign right away, which I put in my 'important documents' folder and immediately forgot about.