One second you’re staring at a girl with a glowing umbrel, the next you’re trying to expin why the barefoot mute girl you live with just levitated off the damn ground.

  That mystery girl who’d seen Mogi levitate continued to stare at me and Mogi, twirling the rosary-colored designed umbrel she held in her hand open above herself. The umbrel almost seemed to be glowing.

  The girl with the glowing umbrel stood like a painting in the drizzle. She held her polka-dotted, rosary-colored parasol overhead as if she were some heroine from a shoujo manga. Her gaze—unblinking, steady—was fixed on me.

  Her name was Arina Cherrylin.

  Ah yes, that Arina Cherrylin. Miss Sunshine herself. President of the student council. Future political puppet-master. And now? Apparently an eyewitness to my personal nightmare.

  The student council president. The one with the immacute smile that always makes you question if she can see straight into your soul. Miss always smiles wide-eyed as though calcuting and as if she can already see exactly what's in your soul. She's extremely known for being very straight to the point and always asking the right questions when engaging with people.

  Rumors clung to her like perfume, but the real stories? I had one of my own.

  I've heard a lot of rumors about her, but I've seen her in action myself. For example, A year ago, when I was going to a tool purchasing store… I saw her shut down a creep in public like a boss. Some well-dressed tech guy tried to flirt with her at a bus stop. Arina swatted him away like he was yesterday’s gossip, then spun toward me and grabbed my arm.

  “This is my boyfriend,” she decred, turning the encounter into the most awkward improv skit of my life.

  The guy looked me up and down—oversized hoodie, probably a little mustard stain somewhere—and scoffed.

  “You should pick someone cssier than that,” he muttered, all 5’2” of him trying to offend my six-foot existence.

  “Wow,” I said, trying not to trigger his Napoleon complex. “You don’t have to insult the drip, man.”

  Arina dragged me onto the bus before I could say more. I ghosted her after that. A whole year passed.

  And now here she was again, smiling like a cat who knew exactly where I’d buried the body.

  Leave it specifically to her. Arina—who once used me as a fake boyfriend to ward off a 5’2 tech goblin—now smiled at me like I was the next item on her tarot reading. She cimed she just happened to be nearby. Uh-huh. Sure. And I just happened to be babysitting a floating child on a Monday morning.

  ?

  “Your name again?” I asked. Yeah, I knew it. I just wanted to poke the bear.

  “Arina,” she said without blinking, still smiling. Two minutes passed. She never stopped staring.

  “Arina who?”

  “Cherrylin.”

  I finally reached for the umbrel she offered, and she let it go with ease. All while keeping that smile.

  Of course. Arina Cherrylin. President of the council. Genius of precision. Daughter of a powerful family. The kind of girl who doesn’t just swim with sharks—she breeds them.

  If she saw Mogi float, I was in deep trouble. People like her don’t forget, and they certainly don’t let go. She’d probably already filed a report to the Paranormal Bureau.

  I broke the silence. “Don’t you have better things to do than stare at me with that cheeky smile?”

  Her owl-like eyes didn’t blink. I swear, she was calcuting wind resistance on my hoodie or something.

  “You saw your sister levitate, didn’t you?” she asked.

  I gave her a frown that I hoped transted to Get lost.

  “She’s not my sister,” I muttered.

  “Who is she then?”

  “None of your business. I’m just… dropping her off to her grandmother.”

  I grabbed Mogi by the wrist and bolted before she could call me out. I had questions of my own, starting with Why the hell is this kid FLOATING?!

  ?

  That morning, I decided to skip school. The st thing I needed was Arina spreading rumors about my shoeless levitating not-sister.

  I ran into Friend #1 along the way.

  Good guy. Terrible influence. He was skipping css too and tched onto me like static cling.

  We ended up walking into town. I had errands to run—my mother’s scribbled list delivered by Mogi like some mute messenger pigeon. I tried to read it. Her handwriting looked like a squid got into a paint bucket.

  Friend #1 told me we were heading “wherever the road takes us,” which was code for “somewhere dangerous or weird.”

  Downtown, I saw the sign.

  UFO Massage & Acupuncture.

  God. Not this pce again.

  My friend had been compining about shoulder pain, so he dragged me and Mogi inside. The smell of oils hit like a spiritual sp. Incense wafted in zy spirals.

  The receptionist greeted us with a wink. “Room Two is ready. You’ll meet the Gaxy Hands.”

  “Gaxy what?” I asked. But my friend was already inside.

  Mogi and I waited in pstic chairs, flipping through magazines from 2013 filled with alien theories and astrology.

  Thirty minutes ter, Friend #1 emerged, hair frazzled, face sck.

  “What happened to you?” I asked, concerned and ughing.

  “I think… I think I was massaged by aliens,” he whispered.

  I blinked. “Aliens?”

  “In costumes,” he crified. “Definitely just dudes in alien costumes. But still… magic hands, bro. Magic.”

  Mogi blinked. Her mouth twitched.

  A smile?

  That was… new.

  I actually smiled back. Until I remembered this day wasn’t supposed to be fun.

  ?

  The weirdness didn’t stop.

  Later that same week… guess who showed up at our family shrine?

  Yep. Arina.

  Holding a paper. Dressed in civilian clothes. And looking way too surprised to see me answer the door.

  “This is the location for the rental family, right?” she asked.

  My heart stopped.

  She didn’t recognize me right away—probably because I was wearing a white mask while cleaning. But once it clicked? That expression on her face? Priceless.

  I wanted to deny her.

  “This pce isn’t for… people like you,” I tried.

  Too te. Baja’s business card was in her hand. The old witch had apparently recommended us to Arina after a psychic session.

  So now… Arina Cherrylin—the girl who saw Mogi levitate—was moving in.

  She said she wanted to learn to fly.

  That she’d trade with Mogi.

  She’d teach Mogi how to talk. In return, Mogi would teach her to float.

  “No,” I said ftly. “That’s not how this works. She can’t talk. She can’t teach. She’s mute. You’re asking a mute girl to teach you flight.”

  But Arina didn’t budge. She said she wouldn’t leave until she learned.

  As she entered the shrine—hand in hand with Mogi—I realized I had lost all control.

  And Mogi?

  She floated again. Right in front of us. No warning. Just up she went, like her shoes were allergic to gravity.

  I tried pulling her down like a balloon that cost too much.

  “Will you cut that out?” I hissed.

  Arina looked like she’d just witnessed a religious event. Baja was nowhere in sight.

  I asked where Arina had st seen the witch. “Uptown. Near a undromat,” she said.

  I grabbed my bike and rode like I was chasing a comet. But I was too te.

  ?

  By 10PM, I was back home.

  And there she was.

  BAJA.

  Sitting in the shrine. Partying with my drunk mother. Arina had vanished into her room. My brother? MIA. Mogi? Sleeping peacefully with her head on Baja’s p.

  I approached like a ninja. “You didn’t tell us she could float.”

  Baja smirked. My mother hiccupped.

  “Floating? Mogi’s gloating?”

  “I said floating!”

  They burst into ughter. Baja raised her gss like she’d done nothing wrong.

  She cimed Arina’s rent money was a blessing. That every curse hides an opportunity. I wanted to scream.

  Next morning, Arina’s movers came with truckloads of her stuff. Tarot cards. Books. Pillows. She was set for war.

  I wasn’t ready.

  That’s when my phone buzzed.

  A text from Kija.

  “Come to the park near the south gate. I’m being watched.”

  What?

  “No.”

  “Please. I can’t move. Someone’s here.”

  Damn it, Kija.

  Why does it always have to be me?

  And what kind of lunatic is going to be the third tenant?