The morning sun filters through Eileen’s bedroom curtains, casting a soft glow over the tangle of blankets and pillows where Ella, Roxana, and Eileen sprawl in a post-sleepover haze. The air smells faintly of lavender air freshener and the lingering sweetness of last night’s popcorn.

A sudden squeal pierces the quiet. “Oh my gosh!” Roxana bolts upright, her voice shrill with excitement. “Ella! Eileen! Wake up!”

“What is it?” Eileen mumbles, rubbing her eyes. “What’s the fuss?”

Ella groans, squinting against the light. “Look!” Roxana points, her hands trembling. “Ella, right next to you—on your pillow!”

Ella jerks back, half-expecting a spider, but her gaze lands on a tiny figure, no taller than a doll, perched delicately on the pillow. A grin spreads across her face, wide and radiant. “Helana, it’s you! I can see you!” Tears prick her eyes as she takes in her friend’s shimmering form—delicate features, luminous eyes, and a cascade of hair that catches the light like spun glass. “You’re beautiful, so gorgeous, the cutest thing ever. And you’re wearing the black shorts I imagined!”

“She’s got the sneakers I made,” Roxana says, beaming with pride. “And my T-shirt!” Eileen adds, her voice rising. “Oh my gosh, you’ve even got boobs! We need to imagine some underwear too.”

Helana’s laughter tinkles like a bell, her tiny form radiating warmth. “Thank you, guys, so much. I’m not sure how this worked, but it did.” She smooths the T-shirt, her smile wide but fleeting. “There’s something you need to know. Last night’s emotional energy was intense—your love, your fear, all of it. That’s why I can manifest like this. But it won’t last. Soon, I’ll fade, maybe become translucent. For now, though, I’m here, and I’m so happy we can see each other for real.”

She hesitates, her expression softening. “One more thing—please don’t call me little. My size here is just to conserve energy; it takes less to manifest smaller. Our DNA’s nearly identical, same number of cells. I’m not less than you.”

“Got it,” Ella says, her voice firm. “You’re not our little friend. You’re our awesome friend—the awesomest ever.”

A sharp knock on the door interrupts them. “Time for school, girls!” Mr. Danvers’s voice booms. “Get ready, let’s go. No makeup—the school’s been complaining about you wasting time on it.”

“Okay, Dad,” Eileen calls, stifling a yawn. “Almost done.”

“Meet me at the car,” he says, footsteps fading downstairs. “Your bikes stay here today.”

As the girls scramble to dress, Helana’s voice hums telepathically, directed only to Eileen. “Hey, I’m speaking just to you—don’t talk out loud, think back at me.”

Okay, Eileen thinks, pulling on her sneakers.

“You know your dad best,” Helana says. “What’ll it take to get us ungrounded?”

Time, mostly, Eileen replies. If we don’t do anything else to freak them out, they’ll forget. Soon, they won’t even remember we’re grounded and will want us out on our bikes so they can have quiet time. It won’t take long.

Good, Helana says, a giggle in her tone. My parents are the same—they forget so much.

In the car, a sleek SUV weaving through quiet suburban streets, Helana’s voice pipes up, audible to all. “This is my first time in an automobile. It’s kinda fun. Does it go faster?”

Mr. Danvers chuckles, glancing in the rearview mirror. “A lot faster, but not on city streets—it’s not safe. Helana, while we’re driving, can I ask a few questions?”

“No!” Ella cuts in, her voice sharp, trembling with protective fervor.

“What?” Mr. Danvers says, startled.

“I’m sorry,” Ella says, her hands clenched in her lap. “I know you’re the parent, but Helana’s here because of us. We’re responsible for her. Don’t talk to her without our permission.”

“Wow, Ella, that’s bold,” he says, a mix of surprise and admiration in his tone.

“I’m scared you’ll exploit her,” Ella continues, her voice wavering. “You’re into UFOs and ET disclosure. I don’t want her tangled in that. If it starts, I’m sending her home. I love her, and I’m keeping her safe in our dimension.”

Mr. Danvers nods, his expression softening. “I’m proud of you for protecting your friend. I respect that. Can I ask her a few questions, please?”

Ella exhales, still tense. “Fine, but just a few. Helana, answer, but don’t say anything that’ll get you in trouble.”

“Helana,” Mr. Danvers says, “do you know roughly how many ETs or interdimensional beings visit Earth, and why they’re here?”

“Oh man, here we go,” Ella mutters, sinking into her seat.

Helana’s voice is calm, thoughtful. “I wish I could answer, but I don’t know. Imagine a bustling transit hub far away—thousands of beings, tall, short, in robes or uniforms, none speaking your language, rushing to and fro. Outside, vehicles—cars, trains, spacecraft—zip around, coming and going. You’re focused on your destination, not the other travelers. That’s Earth for me: a busy hub with countless visitors. I don’t know who they are or why they’re here. I came to meet your girls—that’s all I care about.”

“Good answer—or clever,” Mr. Danvers says with a laugh. “How did you get here? Through one of those hubs?”

“No,” Helana says. “My kind doesn’t need crafts or facilities. It’s like an out-of-body experience, but we can bring our bodies. Our forms use minimal energy, so we move through time and space by thought. While studying your history, I was drawn to your daughters. I pictured them, took a step, and was in Ella’s bedroom. I’m here now, but my native timeline is frozen where I left. We call it timeline exclusivity—one timeline at a time, or it’s too confusing. When I return, my timeline resumes. I hope that helps.”

“It does,” Mr. Danvers says, “but raises a hundred new questions.”

“We’re here, Dad!” Eileen interrupts. “Enough talk—we’ll be late for class.”

The school day drags, uneventful but tense. At lunch, Ella spots her mom lingering outside the cafeteria, trying to blend in but clearly spying. Helana, bored, naps in Ella’s purse, the lamp bottle tucked safely inside. During the last period, a hall monitor taps on the classroom door, summoning Ella to the principal’s office. No explanation given. As she steps into the hall, she sees Roxana and Eileen approaching, their faces mirroring her unease. A wave of dread washes over them as they exchange glances, their footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor.

In the principal’s office, they’re greeted by a cheery voice. “Hello, girls!” Principal Martinez says, her smile wide. “This is an exciting day for you three. I don’t recall this happening at our school before. Meet Lieutenant Commander Beaker, senior student advisor at the U.S. Naval Academy in Maryland. He has wonderful news.”

Commander Beaker, a man in a crisp Navy uniform with a too-perfect smile, steps forward. “I’m thrilled to meet you,” he says. “Our recruitment program monitors middle and high school test scores and teacher assessments. You three scored exceptionally high, no surprise since you’re such close friends. As you approach high school, we’re offering enrollment in a specialized program for gifted students, similar to Navy ROTC but tailored for talents like yours. We’d love to enroll you now to maximize the benefits, even before high school.”

“This is a shock, I know,” he continues, “so with your principal’s help, we encourage you to think it over, ask questions, and hopefully join us.”

“It’s a fantastic opportunity,” Principal Martinez adds, beaming. “I’ll speak with your parents to handle the paperwork.”

The girls stare blankly, their minds racing. Eileen’s voice hums telepathically, a private loop with Helana. Helana, do you know what this guy’s talking about?

I’m linking you all silently, Helana replies. Just think, don’t speak. He seems legitimate, but there’s more to him. Your history doesn’t mention the Navy. This is either something you declined or a new timeline shift I caused by coming here.

It’s a timeline change, Ella thinks, her heart pounding. This wouldn’t have happened without Helana. The Navy knows something’s here—maybe not her specifically, but something. What if they want to dissect her? I’ve heard stories about the military experimenting on aliens.

Don’t worry, Helana says. I can vanish in a microsecond if I’m in danger. I don’t want to go home yet—things are just getting fun.

I’ll get answers, Roxana thinks, then speaks aloud. “Commander, sir, how does this work? Are there special classes, and where?”

“The program uses various facilities,” Beaker explains smoothly. “Sometimes your high school, other times a van takes you to classes at local businesses, hotels, or military sites. Some are after school or at night; others are multi-day field trips. It’s all coordinated with your school and parents, and you can withdraw if it’s too much.”

I don’t trust him, Eileen thinks. He’s too slick. I’m out.

I’ll tell them, Ella thinks, then addresses Beaker. “This sounds exciting, and we’re honored, but we’ve never discussed the Navy or military stuff. It’s not for us. Maybe next year, when we’re in high school—check back then.”

“Don’t be hasty,” Principal Martinez says, her smile faltering. “Do you all feel the same?”

“Yep,” Roxana says firmly. “Too soon for me,” Eileen adds. “Maybe next year.”

The girls leave the office, Beaker’s disappointment palpable as he follows them into the hall. “One more thing,” he calls, catching up. “Do you know what a ‘tell’ is?”

“A tell?” Ella asks, wary.

“In poker,” Beaker says, his eyes narrowing, “a tell is a subtle cue—like fidgeting when you have a good hand. It reveals your state of mind. There are tells for lying too. You’re not lying, but you have a tell. When you speak telepathically, you glance at each other. It gives you away. You need to take our offer. You’re in danger, and we can protect you—your friend too.”

Ella’s stomach twists, but she holds his gaze. “My gut, and my friend, tell me the only danger is you and your secret program no one’s heard of. Come back next year. We’ll take care of ourselves.”

The girls walk away, the final bell ringing as Roxana’s mom waits outside in her car. Beaker strides off, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and urgent.

Later, in the dim glow of her bedroom, Ella opens her diary, Helana’s faint, translucent form curled asleep in the lamp bottle beside her.