The late September evening casts a golden glow through Ella's kitchen, the air fragrant with the scent of her mom's lasagna cooling on the counter. Ella stands by the sink, drying dishes, while her mom leans against the island, her arms crossed, her face a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. "Let me get this straight," her mom says, her voice tight. "The Danvers adopted Helana, but now Mrs. Danvers is having a nervous breakdown, so Eileen and Helana need to stay here?"

"Exactly," Ella says, setting down a plate. "It's perfect. We fixed up the guest room for Helana's visits, so now it'll be for her and Eileen too. We're all sisters—it's no big deal." Her mom raises an eyebrow. "Two girls in Helana's room, plus you? Three teenage girls in my house?"

"Oh, right," Ella says, wincing. "Roxana's coming too. She'll stay in my room. Don't worry, I won't be kissing her." Her mom's voice rises, incredulous. "All four of you? Why does Roxana need to be here?"

"Commander Beaker says we have to stay together," Ella explains, her tone careful. "It's important." Her mom's eyes narrow. "Commander Beaker? What's he got to do with this? I thought that Navy program ended." Ella responds, "The summer part's over, but we'll have special field trips sometimes. He calls them… uh, Special Access Programs."

Her mom freezes, her expression shifting to shock. "Did you say Special Access? No way—you must've misheard. There's no chance you'd be involved in anything like that." Ella says quickly, her heart racing as she wonders if she's said too much. "Yeah, I probably got it wrong. Never mind."

"I'm talking to your dad about this," her mom says, rubbing her temples. "You girls can stay for now, until Mrs. Danvers recovers, but this isn't permanent. We didn't adopt Helana. And we need to speak with that Navy guy. Four girls? That's expensive." Ella replies, "Mr. Danvers will pay child support. And Roxana's so skinny, she barely eats." Her mom sighs, unconvinced, and turns to slice the lasagna.

Upstairs, Ella's bedroom is a cozy chaos of posters, books, and scattered clothes. The four girls—Ella, Roxana, Eileen, and Helana—sit cross-legged on the floor, the air heavy with purpose. Ella claps her hands, calling their meeting to order. "Okay, ladies, we need to get serious," she says, her voice firm. "No more fairy tales. First, we talk out loud around others. People notice when we use telepathy—it's weirding them out. Second, we have to be careful around sensitive people, like Eileen's mom. Her head's a mess, and it's our fault. Helana's not our genie in a bottle anymore. Playtime's over."

Roxana nods, her voice soft but resolute. "Agreed. My parents are getting suspicious too." Eileen fidgets, her face troubled. "There's another problem. I'm hearing other voices—not just yours. Boys' thoughts, mostly. They're… gross." Helana responds, "I'll ask my mom to cover that in night school. There are ways to filter thoughts, but it takes practice."

"I thought it was just me," Roxana says, her eyes wide. "I hear thoughts too—boys, girls. They're obsessed with sex, who's with who, who's cheating. Jealousy, hatred—it's painful. I can block most of it, but sometimes it blasts through, especially when they're staring at you. It's weirder for me," she continues, her voice dropping. "I get feelings, thoughts… not human. Not demons or spirits—something else. Alien, maybe. Their thoughts are so strange, I can't understand them."

Helana nods. "It's a problem. Earth humans forgot telepathy thousands of years ago because it got out of control. Fear, jealousy, hatred, sex obsession—it infected the collective mind, so you blocked it and lost the skill. Night school will help us relearn, but we must limit our emotions, respect others' privacy. It's hard for us too." She adds, "There's a moral issue. Soon, you'll be able to read secret thoughts, not just broadcasted ones. That's wrong, tempting as it is. If a cute boy's looking at you, don't peek into his mind—especially his images. They can be… shocking."

"That's gonna be tough," Eileen says, frowning. Ella eyes Helana. "Didn't you make Jimmy trip by messing with his mind?" Helana admits, her cheeks flushing, "Yes. I shouldn't have. It was wrong. I'm working on it, but some boys here are so irritating." Ella reassures them, "We'll all get better with practice. Commander Beaker wants us to learn more—remote viewing, telekinesis, stuff I can't even pronounce."

Roxana asks, "Is he our boss now? Are we Navy employees?" Ella shakes her head, uncertain. "No. He just wants us to help sometimes, with special training. I don't think he expects us to enlist. I'm not wearing a dumb uniform."

At the Danvers' house, Eileen packs a duffel bag in her room, the walls lined with childhood photos and softball trophies. Mrs. Danvers sits on the bed, tears streaming, her hands twisting a tissue. "Mom, stop crying," Eileen says, kneeling beside her. "I'm not moving out—just staying at Ella's so you can focus on getting better." Mrs. Danvers sobs, "I'm sorry. I wish I was a better mother. I love you so much."

"Stop it," Eileen says, her voice gentle but firm. "You're a great mom, a great cop. You didn't do anything wrong." Mrs. Danvers' voice breaks. "But I don't understand you. You girls do things that scare me. Why am I scared of my own child?" Eileen takes her hand. "You're not scared of me. In night school, I learned to look behind fear to the sponsoring thoughts. When you were little, life was hard—no one protected you, so you learned to protect yourself by knowing everything. That's why you're such a good investigator, a great cop. You figure things out logically. But when something's beyond that—like us—it brings back that old fear. That's what you're afraid of, not me or my sisters."

Mrs. Danvers blinks, stunned. "Now you're a therapist? Honey, I don't know you anymore. Where's my little girl?" Eileen smiles. "I'm still your little girl. But I'm growing up, fast, and the world's changing. I'm changing with it, and one day, I'll change the world. Don't be afraid, Mom. I'll always be yours. Let's help that scared little girl inside you too. Hug me—and her. We'll get through this." They embrace, Mrs. Danvers' sobs softening into quiet tears.

Commander Beaker's voice crackles through Eileen's phone, his tone heavy with regret. "I'm so sorry, Eileen. I screwed the pooch on this one. I assumed your mom was on board like your dad, but I was wrong. I'll help fix it, if I can." Eileen grimaces, pulling the phone away. "Screwed the pooch? Please don't say that. I'm too young for that image." Beaker chuckles. "Sorry. Sailor talk. How can we help your mom?"

Eileen hesitates. "If she was a soldier, you'd use a chemical mind wipe, right? But that's extreme, illegal for civilians. What else?" Beaker suggests, "We can try a suggested mind wipe. For when you heard her thoughts and turned around, we'll say you sensed her presence, like in military training. People detect electrical fields—like lie detectors picking up someone behind you. Your mom, as a cop, might buy that. For the boy on the mountain, there's a book by a retired officer on search techniques. We'll say you read it and suggested the peak. For the kidnapped girl, an Amber Alert was active—Helana saw it and acted, but her limited English caused confusion."

"Do we have to lie?" Eileen asks, her voice small. "Can't we make her accept the truth?" Beaker sighs. "I wish. But most people, including your mom, live within a perceptual boundary—a worldview they're comfortable with. It filters reality to a manageable scope. Seeing everything would overwhelm us. Young people like you can expand that boundary, but your mom, likely due to past trauma, can't. She's stuck in a gray zone, unable to accept or dismiss what she's seen. These white lies will help her retreat to her comfortable bubble, like medicine curing a disease."

Eileen asks, "How do I give her this medicine?" Beaker replies, "I'll call your dad. He'll slip these explanations into conversations. In a few weeks, she might forget the incidents entirely—her mind will erase them to protect her. Then you and Helana can move back, and it'll be a happy family again."

In Ella's room, the night is quiet, the only sound the soft hum of a fan. Roxana sleeps on an air mattress, her breathing steady, while Helana and Eileen share the guest room down the hall. Ella opens her diary, a rare calm settling over her.