Knock Knock. Who's There? Reality.

Juniper had been pretending to sleep for twenty minutes.

The hangover was finally backing off. She still felt gross. Her mouth was dry, but her stomach was doing gentle pirouettes, reminding her that if she were to drink, she would need to take it slow. But her head didn't feel like it was trying to rupture through her eye sockets anymore, so... progress.

She shifted slightly under the throw blanket on the couch and cracked one eye open.

Across the room, her mom was curled up in one of the dining chairs, legs tucked under her like a teenage girl at a sleepover. She was still wearing the lingerie from the night before—pink bra and panties, garter belt and black stockings, the silk robe clinging to her curves. Her hair was loose and glinting in the light, like something out of a commercial. It was obscene how hot she looked for a woman who'd spent all morning cleaning up after a teenage house party.

Sitting beside her was that redheaded teacher—Eliza something. Miss Matthews. She still had the tiny top and scandalous micro-skirt from the party, crossed legs revealing way too much thigh for a professional educator. And then there was the new girl: Indira. Petite, cinnamon skin, glossy lips, and the unmistakable outfit of a girl who had really, really hoped it would have been Joey who opened the door.

God, they were all so in love with him.

Juniper couldn't even blame them.

Her mom's voice floated across the room—warm, soft, matronly. Eliza would chime in every few minutes with something measured and encouraging, and Indira would nod like she was trying to memorize every syllable. They weren't always talking about Joey exactly, but at the same time they were. It was all coded; Relationship this, touching that... Juniper had heard enough to know the shape of the thing.

They were orbiting him.

Like she was.

Like, it turned out, she always had been.

She exhaled and sank deeper into the couch. The hoodie she was wearing smelled like her dad. Her mom had pulled it out of their shared closet, brought it to Juniper when she was sure she'd be able to move out of the bathroom without throwing up. Under it, one of Joey's t-shirts. That she wore like a prize. Her leather skirt was still on from the night before, bunched awkwardly under the blanket. While the night before had been full of things that she should treasure in her memories forever, so much of it was lost thanks to her impulsive behaviour. But she did remember Joey holding her.

Joey. Her brother. Her love. Her... whatever he was now.

It didn't matter. As long as he loved her, as long as he touched her like he had the night before, Juniper didn't need a label. Besides, labels, it seemed, would probably not fit Joey's love life. His harem, and it seemed that he had acquired one, was already getting quite crowded. Sure, the girls in the room the night before, Madison, Bianca, Eliza, and herself, had earned their place with him. No questions there. But now this Indira chick wanted in on the action too. Sure, she loved him, Juniper didn't doubt that, but Joey's dance card was already full, wasn't it?

So yeah, she got it. She got why Indira showed up dressed like she didn’t plan on staying dressed for long. Juniper felt the same way about her brother, he was special, after all. But every time Joey let another one of these girls get close, that was a little less Joey for Juniper.

And that wasn't something she was entirely happy with.

A knock at the door made all three women pause mid-sentence.

They froze.

Another knock. Firmer.

"Maybe I should get changed," her mom said quickly, already rising, already scampering upstairs like a cartoon porno housewife. Her silk robe fluttered behind her. Juniper watched her go with a raised eyebrow.

Eliza stood too. She and Indira exchanged a look.

Then—of course—they both looked at her.

"What?" Juniper asked, her voice gravelly from too much **** and not enough water.

"Help?" Indira asked, wide-eyed.

"Please?" Eliza added.

Juniper groaned, shoved the blanket off, and sat up. The motion made her stomach slosh, but she powered through.

"Fine. But only because if I sit here another second I'm gonna throw up in my mouth."

Eliza followed Donna upstairs.

Juniper trudged toward the door, her leather skirt squeaking faintly, hoodie sleeves too long over her hands.

"I don't know who it is," she muttered, mostly to herself. "Probably a Mormon missionary."

She pulled the door open.

And froze.

The woman standing on the stoop was short, stern, and with an expression like a thundercloud had been pressed into a sari. She wore the kind of cool fury mothers perfected after years of ungrateful children. She had the exact same eyes as Indira, but where Indira's sparkled with hope and anxiety, this woman's were carved from obsidian.

"My name is Neha Patel," she said, voice calm and razor-sharp. "I'm looking for my daughter, Indira. I know she's here. Please send her out to me. Now."

Juniper blinked.

Behind her, Indira gasped.

"Oh no," she whispered.

Juniper let the silence hang for a moment. Then she leaned her head slightly over her shoulder and called out:

"Hey Indira? Your mom's here. And she looks... really pissed."

Then she turned back to Neha with a tight, sardonic smile.

"Would you like to come in?"