I looked through the doorway with my head to make sure my parents were in fact busy. Father was knitting. Mom was working on a project on the computer. She was going through her hair. I had my backpack against my back. I looked toward Ivy with a finger on my lips. I was going to break it to them that a alien girl had just entered my life. Parents are never useless when it comes to situations like this. However, they could not call the military or the army. I had that part figured out. She was hunched behind my back with one hand on my backside. I looked over toward the girl.

"You will--" I started.

"Go upstairs, into the first room with the open door, and close it and browse for clothes." Ivy whispered back. She nodded. "I got it."

"Go." I whispered.

It was a fast transition. I only saw a blur past me with a stench that could not be clenched. Symbiotically and non-symbiotically. My parents didn't seem to notice that a white girl had just ran up the stairs. They probably thought it was one of three cats we had. Grayson, Kirk, and McCoy. My dad insisted that we name them in that order. Because these cats can be found cuddling with each other at any given time in a box, or in a bed, or in a couch. The cats were sitting on the rail leading up stairs staring down at me. Grayson, the cat, had a very stoic expressionless cat face. Kirk, the cat, had one front leg, who was sitting down taking a rest. I don't know how he does it but he does it. McCoy was a brown and white cat that appeared to be grumpy with that fur. He was grumpy all the time. I was surprised he hadn't jumped put to crash land into her arms. I was bewildered. No one can get past them without being pounced on by the cats.

Perhaps she is really an alien from outer space.

That was the only feasible solution asides to her claim being from another world. Kirk was a tom cat who had a loud meow and loved to be touch and touch everyone. Everyone, including our neighbor who is allergic to cats. We don't know how Kirk got there but he did. The windows were locked. The doors were locked. Grayson and McCoy had followed after their big boss who was getting fatter. Mother calls him the cat that goes through the matrix. Cats are glitches, and father agrees so, like it is a casual occurrence. Which it is not. I stepped through the doorway and close the door behind me. I tip toed down the hall only to hear my father clearing his throat, his glasses lowered down, and his bright blue eyes piercing my direction. I sighed, with a nervous laugh rubbing the back of my neck. I came to the middle of the living room. Mom turned away from her personalized computer.

"Honey," Mom said. "Why did you punch out Catherine?"

"She was insulting our reading teacher." I said. "It was very biphobic."

Father sighed.

"Sweetheart, I told you not to tell her." Father said. "Before you know it, she is going to stand up to the dictator and we are going to be arrested for it."

"The president is not a dictator." Mom said.

"It can happen." Father reiterated the conclusion of a long discussion they had on election night. Father was more terrified than my mother and I still don't understand why. Not like he is going to take the rights of the people. They thought I didn't overhear it from upstairs in my bedroom rereading my Eragon book but I did. All I understood was the guy who had touched a woman's cat without her permission was elected and was against the new society as everyone knew it.

"And that won't happen. There is the freedom of speech." Mom looked toward me. "Did you bring one of your friends over for a sleepover?" She stood up from the chair. "Because you are grounded, missy."

I felt small compared to my five foot eight parents. I gulped. I looked over to see the door that was shut then stepped forward into the living room.

"Mom, father," I said. "I brought a girl over."

"Young lady, come down stairs!" Father shouted.

Ivy darted down the stairs with her hair wet but her clothes were dry.

"Yes?" Ivy asked

I looked at her with wide eyes.

"What the hell did you just do?" I asked.

"I took the easy way out." Ivy said.

How the hell did that equate of using the sink---Oh my god.

"But you can't take a shower in just two minutes." Father said.

"I don't like showers." Ivy said. "I like bath tubs."

"Mom, father," I said, wrapping my had around the little girl's shoulder. "This is my 'thing' friend from another Earth."

My parents didn't know how to respond to that. There was a wide period of silence. She slipped of my gift then unzipped her hoody going on about, "Proving what mesah said." She unzipped her hoody. She then lifted her shirt above her chest and father screamed falling off the couch. Mom gasped, standing up from the desk. She covered her mouth appearing to be amazed. I went in front of Ivy to see what they were seeing before their eyes. My eyes widened as it occurred to me that she is really an alien. She had a human heart. My jaw had fallen. Not a sound was coming. Father pulled us aside. Ivy lowered her shirt down and wrapped the hoody around her waist. She fold her arms and simply asked, "Now do you believe mesah?"

"Rachel---" Father started to bring up Mom's name.

"Syd," Mom said, cutting him off. "Take your friend into the bathroom and make sure she takes a shower."

I took Ivy by the shoulder, she looked toward me then gave a nod, and she followed me upstairs without any argument.

I overheard my parents arguing on what to do with her. I closed the door to my room, then tugged her into the bathroom, and she was quite a light person. My room was full of posters. Let alone the doctor who blanket on the bed being the TARDIS in space. It was a fairly large blanket. My room was painted the color of the LGBTQ+ flag. I had a poster of Leia Organa from the women's march I attended with my parents. It was the best thing I had ever done in my life. My friend, Almas Dalir, from Iran, was there with her mother. They were in Hijabs that were gorgeous on them. I mean, absolutely, positively, gorgeous. It is probably me being biased because anyone in Hijabs are beautiful.

"Your parents are cute." Ivy said.

"Thank you." I said.

"Do you move often?" Ivy asked, leaning against the wall.

"No," I said, noticing a pair of scissors on the toilet seat with clothes on top. "Did you?"

"My mom moved seven times." Ivy said, with a shrug. "I didn't make much friends because of it."

I came over to the mirror then lightly tapped on it.

"Computer," I said. "turn the shower head on."

There was a jet of water.

"Further requests?" The computer asked.

"Select my shower temperature."

"Water temperature has been changed." The computer said.

"OH MY PRIDE ROCK!" Ivy squealed. She was hopping up and down. "WAS THAT MAGIC? OH MY PRIDE ROCK OH MY PRIDE ROCK OH MY PRIDEROCK THAT'S AMAZING!" I couldn't believe she was excited over the house feature on the mirror. It was a touch screen mirror. "I never seen anything like it."

"Why do you need scissors?" I asked.

"I hate tags." Ivy said.

"Tags." I said.

"How is this possible?" Ivy asks, looking at me in awe.

"Technology getting small and Mediacom." I said. "We are in the Star Trek age but without space ships."

"Star Trek?" Ivy asked. "As in The Next Generation featuring Jean-Luc Picard, Lieutenant Data, Geordi La Forge, Wharf, William Riker, Guinan, and---What about the security lady? Did they ever resurrect her?"

"First, it's Worf," I said. "And second of all, she came to play Yar's sister. And it hurt Data."

"Oh my pride rock, poor man." Ivy said. Then she eyed at me. "COMPUTER. WHEN WAS THE DAY THAT MONK LAST AIRED?"

"Cannot register." The computer replied.

"This is a new feature, the whole computer acknowledging-- " I said.

"Acknowledged." The computer replied.

"Speak slower, Ivy." I said.

"Oh." Ivy pouted. "Computer, national news."

"Seattle Federal Court has blocked the immigration part," The computer said. "State Department has reversed the visa cancellations." I experienced hope. Hope that my T'hy'la, Almas, would get home and stay there. My parents understood our relationship. We were keeping it as purely platonic love for the time being. By waiting until we were old enough to have a relationship from there. Almas and I did a pinkie promise. I was relieved while leaned against the side of the counter. There was a relief of pressure from my chest.

Ivy placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you okay, Syd?" Ivy asked.

I looked back up at her.

"Get undressed, girly." I said.

"No." Ivy said. "I don't like showers."

"Dip your hand into the shower." I said. "See how it feels."

Ivy reluctantly stood to the side of the shower then dipped her hand in, she gasped, yanking it back out.

"Hot!" Ivy blew at her hand.

"Dip it in." I said. Ivy looked at me as though I had lost my mind.

"But it's hot!" Ivy whined.

"Let your hand adjust to it." I said.

"Why?" Ivy said.

"Because it cleans the dirt." I said.

"Okay." Ivy said.

"And you need to use a tooth brush. Brush up and down instead of just sliding it from side to side across your teeth. Which is a common mistake for kids your age. Tooth aches can really make you lose your beauty sleep." She tilted her head. "I had a friend who had a bad tooth ache. He cried when the medicine that treated it until they got it pulled out was delayed."

"So that is how much it hurts." Ivy said.

"Yes." I said.

"Hurt enough to cry." Ivy said.

"Yes." I repeated.

She slipped her hand in.

"I don't cry. That's for the weak." Now it was my turn to raise the eyebrow.

"Why is that?" I asked.

"Because sometimes people don't believe they are hurt." Ivy said. I lowered my eyebrow

"Of course not." I said. "Crying is a very beneficial and healthy thing to do." She slid her pants down and I turned away. "Also it helps in releasing emotions." I looked over my shoulder to see Ivy was covering her lower body part. Her panties were down in the pant pile. Her hoody was around it as was the black short sleeved shirt. "Are you meaning to tell me that you suppress your negative emotions?"

"Ew, stop looking at me." Ivy said, with a frown. "You are gross."

"You are currently gross with that dirt." I said. "Dirt over nudity? Being dirty is worse over nudity."

"And you don't mind nudity?" Ivy asked.

"Dirt triumphs disgust over nudity." I said, nodding my head ferociously. "Now, get in to the shower and use the soap and the conditioner and the shampoo. Head, shoulders, and body."

"I once took a bath with my socks on at my Dad's house in Bigsville by accident." Ivy said.

"'Do you have your socks on?" I asked.

"Let me check." Ivy said.

She had non-shoe-laced shoes on. She sat on the edge of edge of the shower and kicked them off where the shoes were sent flying into my bedroom. She took her colored stinky shoes off. She put the handle on the top of the toilet. She looked back at the shower with the gray plastic wall that gave the allusion of it being fogged up. Then she looked back to me with one hand on her knee.

"Am I really taking a shower in the future?" Ivy asked. "Or is this just a cruel trick?"

I paused, briefly.

"No," I said. "It is not."

She cleared her throat.

"Is it still 2017?" She asked. "I mean, it was just 2006 for me." She shook her head. "Been a month since I came here and I feel like I don't belong here." She sighed. "It is annoying to feel out of place with technology here. And it makes me feel old."

I came to her side then sat down alongside her

"It is okay to feel old." I said. "On the internet, a month is a year. You look back at your activity and recoil. Tumblr is one of the notable examples." I laughed. "If you have been away from Tumblr for too long, your dashboard is full of references you don't understand or it is dead."

Ivy gasped.

"Dead?" Ivy asked, horrified.

I nodded.

"Because I didn't take a shower." I said.

She frowned.

"Oh come on." Ivy said, punching my shoulder. "That is not fair."

"I was inactive, busy with school stuff." I said. "And being away from the internet is healthy for me."

Ivy slid herself up.

"Fine." Ivy said. "I will take a shower in this monstrosity." I walked out of the bathroom. "Computer, play Disney songs!"

I closed the door behind me and slid myself down. I listened to the echo of her singing to remix versions of Disney songs. I rubbed the side of my temples listening to her terrible singing, "Tommorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, and it's only a day away!" It was the older version to Annie. Not the adorable, cute black girly. The original movie version. I figured she was still in her Disney phase. She still had yet to learn that superhero's did not exist, aliens did in fact exist, Atlantis is a mere figment of dreams but is in fact underwater with artifacts. How do I start to tell her that there is highly likely or not that these alien robots she referred to are not exactly robots? Aliens, from the accounts I have read and heard, cover a magnitude of various appearances. Human, lizard, classic, short pointy eared dwarfs, big foot, insectoid, and so on. There was life from other planets but what kind of alien human being was she? I could hear her singing change to a different tune, "It's a whole new wor--NO SCRAP. I'M NOT LISTENING TO A SONG THAT FOLLOWED A STORY ABOUT A LITTLE GIRL ESCAPING HER CONTROLLING MOTHER'S HOUSE." I was startled. She is weird as hell. I didn't know many kids her age who stopped singing songs just because it came on the radio along with a domestic abuse story.

"There is a star in the sky, that I can see," She raised her voice carrying a steady beat. "Looking up above with hope. Can I reach space like one of those astronauts?" She hummed along to the song as the notes echoed in the closed room. "Can I reach the stars and carry one them back? Can I find myself a way to find my home? Space is a large place to be: vast, beautiful, and mysterious. Full of death where no one can hear you scream!"

She must have some interest in scifi.

"Flying in spaaaaceee!" She drawled out. "Losing air." Her voice softened, yet, it still sounded terrible. "Heading toward an planet where imminent death is coming clear. Coming clear. Coming clear." She lowers her voice. "It's coming coming clear. Coming clear." She raised her singing voice. 'Is this how death is going to be for me? Flying in space, flying in space, flying in space." Her voice echoed in the room. "Flying in space watching the station become smaller and smaller."

                                                                                         ~                                 ~

How do I tell a girl, stuck in her Disney phase, that Leia Organa died a few weeks ago? I remember pouring my heart out. Crying. After hearing the news she had a massive heart attack on a airplane days before New Years Eve. I had heard so many people having a heart attack, especially in their sixties, and dying right after it. My parents, unlike many students I knew, straight up told me the truth. They didn't say 'passed', they told me "Your uncle has died. Very late. You know how late he is to anything right? Okay, be prepared for the funeral. He is going to be late for that, too." My uncle would have wanted to be remembered being late. He was the fun loving uncle who had a nice sense of humor. He was likely laughing, just as my parents predicted, when he was late to his own funeral. You know what he also was late to? My birth. My birthday. Dropping me off. Everything. My uncle was late to dying because the doctors gave him six months to live after a previous medical condition that came up which my parents won't still talk about to me. I guess that she must be a Warsie of some kind because Star Wars was a classic.

I know that for sure because it has been lingering in my family. It is full of Warsies. My fathers parents, however, are hard core Trekkers. My moms parents are Warsies. They still have the debate on which ship is the best. The Millennium Falcon or The Enterprise in any incarnation with canon involved.  They even ran a simulation of such a attack. It gives me a headache during the holidays during the unresolved debate. The door to the bathroom finally opened twenty-five minutes later. Ivy came out in her new attire with the gray shirt that made the bump on her chest painfully blatant. The gray fabric was like linen to her Iron Man Nuclear Reactor center. Ivy folded her arms with a annoyed sigh and rolled her eyes. She had both hands on the side of her waist. The gray shirt lacked sleeves. And it clung to her thin body. Did I really have light brown pants in the drawer? It was quite mind boggling. What other kind of clothes did I have that I had not bothered to look at?

"Looks like I have a chest buster trying to come out?" Ivy asked.

I was in awe.

"Yes." I said.

"I am not leaving this house without a hoody to cover it," Ivy said. "Sleeveless or sleeves!"

"That would work." I said.

"Something else is on your mind," Ivy said. "I can tell. Mikaela had that look on her face a lot when it came to Sam." Sam?, I thought. Who is Sam? An Uncle of hers? Or someone she met in this world supposedly working with these alien robots who purposely buried her? It was highly likely with Ivy. "Spill the beans."

"Carrie Fisher died last year, and Debbie Reynolds, too." I said.

Ivy tilted her head.

"Reynolds and Fisher who?" Ivy asked.

"Princess Leia." I said. "And Grandma Aggie."

Ivy frowned.

"You are joking with me, right?" Ivy asked. "Are you telling me that two women played her and died in 2016?"

"Carrie Fisher portrayed Leia Organa," I explained. "Her mother, Debbie, portrayed Grandma Aggie. Aggie had her personal Mary Poppin's bag." Ivy nodded in understanding. "Debbie died one day afterwards, and she reportedly told her son that she wanted to be with Carrie." I shook my head. "I am sorry, girly." Her back slid down the side of the wall. She looked at me back in hurt. "Gary, their pug, is being taken care of by Leia's daughter."

"No, no, no," Ivy said. "She can't be dead." She was smiling. "This can't be." That must be her copying mechanism, I figured. "She can't be dead!" She shook her head. "The force would not let her die like that."

I placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I grieve with thee." I said. "It's okay to feel sad."

Ivy briefly closed her eyes fighting back a smile. She placed a hand onto her face and rocked herself gently back and forth. I rubbed her backside, carefully, as a form of comfort. I then got up and came back with some toilet paper. She dapped at her eyes with it sounding to upset. She wiped her nose with it. Her hazel dark gray blue-gray eyes, partially visible, were up toward me. She uncovered her mouth with a smile as more tears were coming down. I can see in her eyes that she was ashamed of displaying the negative emotion in front of another person. Which was quite odd for a human. Perhaps the Earth like planet that she came from had ridiculed expressing negative emotions and were more Vulcan like than they care to admit since they controlled their emotions but they, instead, suppressed the negative aspect of it. I felt pity.

"Has your parents decided?" Ivy asked. As I overheard the music from the bathroom.

I patted her shoulder.

"One minute." I said. I stepped up then entered the bathroom. "Computer, end Disney Play List." The music stopped playing a whole new world. I walked out then came to her side, tapping lightly on her shoulder. "Let's go see, girly." I then held my hand out for the little girl. Ivy looked at me, her eyes not breaking contact, as she took my hand and let me help her up. She was shorter than me while I was taller than her. "It won't be bad."

I opened the door first for Ivy. Who was somewhere else in her mind. I could tell that part because she didn't make a comment. I wonder what she is thinking? Is she thinking how much different society has advanced since her unexpected trip to 'the future' or so she claims? Part of me feels that she is in fact from the past. I then watched her, with my own eyes, slide down the stairs on the rail with a squeal and she looked like she was having the ride of her life. I looked down in horror at the direction of the falling little girl. She skipped into the living room. I speeded down the stairs after the girl. I heard a thud from the living room as I nearly came to a fall skidding on the wooden floor. I used the supporting wall to help me stand. I saw Ivy getting back up dusting herself off, commenting, "I am okay."

Mom and father were sitting down on the couch.

"Sydney," Ivy said. "You look more like your father."

"I told you she has my looks." Father said, with a beaming smile.

"Honey," Mom said. "Your father and I have discussed your new girl--"

"'Thing' friend." Father finished. "She is a child. Too young to know anything about heterosexual relationships."

"What is heterosexual?" Ivy asked.

"When a man and a woman have a relationship." Mom said. "We call them the straights."

"That doesn't make sense." Ivy said.

"They don't deserve being called heterosexual after making all those men and women having sex in a cube, getting married without having met each other and getting to know each other in less than ninety days, and let's not forget the thirty day marriages!" Father said. "A marriage should only be done when you know each other, care about each other, love each others flaws, and fit the void in each others heart that you can spend the rest of your days with."

"Now does it make sense?" I asked.

"Why can't men and men have a relationship?" Ivy asks. "Women and women."

"He means kissing." I said.

"Oh." Ivy said. "Ew! Ew in kissing scenes in general. I mean, why do you have kissing scenes in the middle of danger, threat, and a action movie? It is simply not relevant." Father looked over toward me and then to mother with a curious look. "I mean, they can use the precious seconds to get the frag out of where they are. And then share a kiss once they are out of danger off screen!"

"I agree." Mom said. "And leave it up to the viewers interpretation."

"More movies should to that often to be honest like they do with queer baiting." Father said. "But with the straights."

"Always the straights." Mom said. "Anyway, we are going to find a couple that will love to have a adoptive daughter and until then you can live in the spare bedroom." Ivy cheered with a loud "Meep!" jumping up and down. Father looked at my new friend half in wonder and half in astonishment watching her leap up and down. The cats were sitting on Mom's desk in a pile. Grayson was in-between Kirk and McCoy. "People don't ask questions if you have a white child with a white family."

"Are you implying people are racist if there is a white child in a black family?" Ivy asked, horrified.

"They ask questions." Mom said.

"And we don't want trouble." Father said.

Ivy looked toward me.

"Do you want this?" Ivy asked.

"You can't always sleep in the guest room." I said.

Ivy turned toward my parents.

"All right," Ivy said. "I accept."

"We are only doing this over sending you to be poked at and god knows what," Ivy started to speak, "Actually, I know a captain by the name William Lennox in Special Operations--" but my father continued on. She spoke too fast, apparently, for him to understand. "We want you to have a normal childhood in Florida."

"As close as you can get." Mom said.

"My childhood. . ." Ivy repeated. She frowned, both hands on her hips. "How old do I look like to you folks?"

"Seven." Mom said.

"Eight." Father said.

"Seven." I said.

"I am nine," Ivy said. "Born June 6th, 1996."

"Wouldn't that make you ten not nine?" I asked.

Ivy stood there like I had pointed out that she wasn't real.

"Hello?" Mom approached the girl. She shook Ivy and she didn't respond. I half wanted to laugh at Ivy's reaction but the unusual blank expression on her face was very out of character. In the short time I knew her, she wore a smile on her face. "Oh dear. You broke her."

"How about we put her in front of the TV and let her reconcile over her age." Father suggested.

"Put on Alien." Mom said.

"Don't you have homework?" Father asked.

I took out my android.

"I'll get to that." I said, as Mom scooted Ivy over to the couch.