Jessica's laughing face twists into one of puzzlement, "Huh?"

I open my mouth to explain, but I realize I have no idea what to say. I don't even know how to explain it myself as I stare at the girl who is about ten years older than I expected her to be. So, I just end up with, "Yeah."

"Are you sure you have the right person? I'm an only child." She states.

"So was I, up until a few hours ago. Apparently, we have the same father, and I know about you because my boyfr--uh--best friend's older brother is the prosecutor on his case."

"Well, if he's your dad too, what's his name then?"

My father's name, something I haven't said or heard in a very long time.

"Travis. Travis White."

"That is actually public information. You could've looked him up." She replies.

I can tell immediately that just a few flimsy facts won't convince this girl, and the suspicion is probably no doubt from years of living with Travis. It looks like we already have something in common. I need to supply some kind of solid information, something no random person would be able to know about our dad to convince her.

"He has a scar, below his right collarbone; it's shaped like an "L". He used to pull down the neckline of his shirt whenever I would complain about not having enough food and remind me that it's my fault he got that scar so I should be grateful for what I had. I think he lied though because I can't ever remember giving it to him."

Suddenly, I see Jessica's eyes begin to well up, but I catch the ghost of a smile form.

"He used to blame me for it too."

She opens the door wide and ushers me inside. The inside is just as cute as the outside, full of vintage furniture and colorful knickknacks.

"My mom collects," she says quickly.

I nod and smile, reassuring her that I don't think her mom is crazy. Jessica motions towards the light green couch so I take a seat. Instead of sinking in, I end up bouncing back up. I run my hand over the old floral texture while watching Jessica fold her legs criss-cross into a magenta armchair. She swishes her head to the side to move her curls out of her face then she looks towards me.

"Sooo, how does this conversation even start?" she asks.

I laugh and agree, "I have no clue."

"Well," she starts, "Which one of us is older? They'll have the beginning of the story."

"True, I'm 18," I respond.

"16. Looks like you're first."

"Alright, well my mom was married to our dad a long time ago, but they divorced when I was 8. But he must have been having an affair during that time, and you're the proof of that. When I was 12, my parents finally had a custody battle over me--before it was just joint custody--and ever since then I've been with my mom and I haven't seen or heard from him since."

"I guess that makes a little sense," Jessica ponders, "Because my parents--well, partly yours too--didn't get married until I was 10, which would be a little after your custody battle. He always said he was busy or had other things on his mind rather than marriage; but now I realize he was already married and dealing with your family too. He must've thought since he lost his wife and his daughter after the battle, he might as well marry mom," she scoffs.

"I'm assuming all of the abuse and stuff didn't only start happening after they got married, so why did your mom stay with him?" I ask.

"No, it didn't, and I wish my mom had the courage like yours. She was just, is just, so in love with him, she's blinded by it."

Jessica glances down and knots her fingers. I immediately feel a rush of remorse for her; yeah we both had the same terrible father, but at least I have a mom who stood up for me. I scooch closer towards the end of the couch and place a hand on top of hers. She looks up at me, a single curl falling over her face.

"I'm sorry," I say wholeheartedly.

She gives me a weak smile, "Hey, it's not your fault. It's our douchebag of a father's fault."

We both laugh and she stands. With a small sniff, she bounces back to her perky self and asks if I want a drink or something to eat. I just ask for a glass of water, and while she's away I walk over to the mantel above their fireplace and look at the pictures lining the wood. As Jessica grows older through each picture, I notice more appearances by my father. A few, though, Jessica was still quite young, and I begin to question the legitimacy of my father's spontaneous business trips. It all seems so strange to me; it's like I've been thrown into this double life full of secrecy and surprises. It was a shock in it of itself that my father had had another kid, but now finding out that he actually had an affair and I have a sister who's only two years younger than me is mind blowing. Jessica skips back into the room cheerfully and hands me my glass.

"So," she begins with a wide smile, "Tell me all about my big sister."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The hours roll by, and by nine o'clock I feel as though I've known Jessica for years. This is the first time I've ever opened up so easily to someone before, usually it takes time. Admittedly, at first I only opened up out of obligation; I felt as though since I was the one who sought her out, I should be open with her. However, the more we talked, the easier it came, and before long telling her about my life and learning of hers became natural. Her personality, bubbly and outgoing, may contradict mine, but yet we found that we have so much in common. We are the same with broad things like our taste in music and favorite celebrities, but we're also alike with strangely specific things like how we both like our mac-n-cheese sticky instead of wet and how we both tuck our sweats into fuzzy socks at night when it's cold to conserve heat.

I am falling over clutching my stomach and rubbing my watering eyes laughing at a story she's telling me when a woman walks into the room. I immediately recognize the middle-aged woman from the pictures on the mantel, and if I hadn't known from them that she is Jessica's mom, her unmistakable brown curls would match the two together.

"Jessica?" she asks, obviously curious as to whom the stranger in her house is.

"Oh, mom!" Jessica turns, "Hey, you're back!"

"Yes, the mall was so crowded, I guess people are already getting their holiday shopping done."

"Well Christmas is only a month and a half away, and Christmas means family and that reminds me of somebody I should introduce to you," Jessica smiles towards me, "Mom, this is Scarlet, my sister!"

The large bags in Mrs. White's hands fall with a thud onto the floor. A look of astonishment is plastered against her face, and I don't blame her. I rise onto my feet and walk over to shake her hand.

"It's really great to meet you," I state brightly.

She shakes it back, disbelief still showing, "I knew Travis had been previously married, but I never knew he had a daughter. Do you have siblings?"

"No, it's just me."

"Oh, well welcome!"

We spend the next hour getting to know each other. I didn't think it was possible for Jessica to be any happier, but seeing her mother and I getting along made her practically glow. And surprisingly, yes, I truly was getting along with her. I thought that maybe I would feel anger or resentment towards her, but I didn't: maybe because all my resentment is pent up for my father or maybe because she is simply too pleasant to hate.

Too soon though, their grandfather clock chimed ten o'clock, and I deemed it time to go. I decided that it was too late to call back Carter so I would just take the bus transit home. I text Carter a quick message telling him not to worry about picking me up and then stand to say goodbye. I hug both Mrs. White and Jessica, but as I'm about to leave Jessica pipes up.

"How are you getting home?"

"Well, I was dropped off earlier so I think I'm just going to take a few buses home, it's too late to call back my ride since my campus is actually a few hours away."

"Why not have Jessica drive you? She's quite the driver." Mrs. White offers.

"Yeah! I can totally take you!" Jessica says gleefully.

"Oh no, I can't put you out like that. She wouldn't be back for hours; honestly, she'd probably have to end up staying over night."

"That's fine with me!" Jessica counters.

"As long as it's okay with your school if she stays overnight," her mom points out.

"Well, yeah, that wouldn't be a problem, but I mean...are you sure?"

"More than anything! It'll be fun!" Jessica answers.

I look earnestly between the two of them, making sure this isn't a joke. They both wait for a reply, but I think Jessica is most anxious for my answer. The corners of my mouth pull into a smile as I agree.

"Alright then."

I will soon come to realize that that decision will lead to being one of the biggest regrets of my life.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

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