Ernest

It's as if you were born with a gift for making friends. Literally everywhere. Sometimes online, sometimes in another country whose language you don't speak, but you send messages through a translator. But you don't really communicate with your relatives. You spend most of your time with friends.

A week ago, you began preparing for your coming of age. You prepared invitations and decorated the house, even though your mother said it was too early. And so, the day before your birthday, you handed out these invitations to your friends. And that same day, you learned that your mother had found a man and was getting married in a month, and that you now have a half-brother, Ernest.

You'd been waiting for your friends all day today, but no one had shown up for the party, leaving you feeling down. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. You opened it, thinking it was your mother who'd arrived early, but Ernest was standing there. He was holding a heavy gift bag and a bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a cake in the other.

—Happy eighteenth birthday, little sister.