The sun had barely begun to crest the horizon when Sunny stormed through the house like a gale force wind, dragging the other two toward the center of the living room.
"Why are we awake at this ungodly hour?" Ariana groaned, clutching a throw pillow as if it were a life raft.
"Identity selection," Sunny announced, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
"We were too busy yesterday. We're doing it now."
Melissa leaned against the wall, her arms crossed tightly.
"Sunny, no offense, but I'm with Ariana on this one. Can't this wait until we've had coffee?"
"Nope. No more excuses." Sunny placed a ceramic bowl on the coffee table with a decisive thud.
"The paper you pick determines the hair color you keep for this stay."
Ariana's eyes lit up, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
"Oh, I love this part! Last time I got green and it was a look. I hope I get to keep it."
"I'll go first," Sunny said, dipping her hand into the bowl and retrieving a small, folded slip.
Ariana followed suit with a flourish of excitement.
"Melissa? You're next," Sunny prompted.
"Do I have to?" Melissa asked, her voice flat.
"Can't I just stay with the brown I have?"
"You know the rules," Sunny reminded her. "New country, new life, new look. It's the only way we stay ghosts."
Melissa reluctantly plucked a paper from the bowl.
"Everyone ready?" Sunny asked. "One... two... three... open!"
The silence that followed was broken by Melissa's horrified scream.
"What? Hell No! I can't do this!"
"No way," Ariana gasped, staring at her own slip.
"Purple? I got purple!"
"What about you, Melissa?" Ariana asked, leaning over. Melissa didn't answer; she just handed the paper over, her hand trembling as she ran her fingers through her natural hair.
"Wow... red," Ariana read aloud. "It ain't a bad color, if you ask me. It's fierce."
"At least neither of you has to dye your hair white," Sunny muttered, looking at her own paper with a grimace.
Melissa's eyes narrowed into slits. "Who wrote these colors down?"
"I asked Ariana to do it yesterday," Sunny said.
"I was drunk!" Ariana yelled, throwing her hands up.
"Why would you ask me to write something so important when I'm three margaritas deep? Drunk Ariana thinks white and purple are perfectly reasonable choices! Maybe when I'm sober.... But when I'm drunk?!"
"This is messed up, Sunny," Melissa hissed.
"No changes," Sunny commanded. "We stick to the draw. Now, onto the next one: Style and Personality."
They drew again. Ariana was the first to speak. "Okay, now we're talking! Casual dress and a carefree personality. I can do that."
"I get leather," Sunny read, her brow furrowing. "A 'bad girl' aesthetic... but I have to play the role of a love-sick high schooler? How does that even work?"
They both turned to Melissa. She was staring at her paper with an expression that suggested she was contemplating arson.
"Melissa?" Ariana whispered.
"I have to dress 'girly,'" Melissa said, her voice dangerously low.
"I have to be a 'cute, shy, intimidated' young lady. And the worst part? I have to wear pink."
"It's so cute!" Sunny chirped.
The look Melissa gave Ariana was anything but shy. It was murderous.
"I will kill you."
"Melissa, calm down! Let's be civil!" Ariana screamed as she bolted.
Melissa didn't stay civil. She chased Ariana through every room of the house, a blur of rage and pink-slips.
"Melissa, hold on! I was drunk! In my defense, I WAS DRUNK!" Ariana's voice echoed from the kitchen.
Sunny eventually moved in to separate them, holding Melissa back by the shoulders.
"That's enough. We need a makeover, and we need it ASAP!."
"Don't we need to settle in first?" Ariana panted.
"Later," Sunny insisted.
"How are we supposed to pay for all this?" Melissa asked, her anger cooling into pragmatic worry.
"We don't have the local currency yet."
"No need to worry. Wendy packed plenty of cash in my bag, and the bank accounts are fueled," Sunny said.
"Let's go shopping."
With the help of digital maps, they navigated the unfamiliar streets of Mexico.
Hours later, they emerged from a salon and a shopping mall, transformed.
They returned to the house with a mountain of bags and hair that made them look like three completely different women.
A week passed. The rhythm of Mexico began to set in.
One afternoon, while Sunny and Ariana were out scouting for jobs, Melissa's phone vibrated on the kitchen counter.
The name Dean flashed on the screen.
"Hey Melissa," Dean said when she picked up. "You've got good news?" Melissa asked leaning back.
"I've wiped the data. All the digital footprints containing your information are gone."
"Including my friends?"
"Yes, including them," Dean sighed.
"Why do you care so much about those girls, anyway?"
"They mean everything to me," Melissa said, her voice firm.
"I don't have to repeat myself."
"Fine. Wait—what happened to your hair? Let me guess... Ariana?"
"Yeah," Melissa muttered, massaging her temple.
"Listen," Dean's voice turned serious.
"Chen Xing has sent people to find Sunny. He knows she's alive, no matter how many times you fake her death. He isn't giving up."
"Anything else?"
"Ariana's parents just bought a new villa," Dean said.
"Dean, I meant important things."
"I saved the best for last. Your parents are currently bankrupt. Since the original copies of the company assets went 'missing'—thanks to you—they couldn't inherit. So, they've come up with a new strategy."
Melissa sat upright, her curiosity piqued. "Which is?"
"They're trying to marry your step sister off to the grandson of your grandfather's old friend," Dean revealed.
Melissa sat in the silence of the empty house.
After they had sold her off for a pack of cigarettes and a few bucks, her parents had another daughter, four years her junior.
Knowing they were in misery gave her a dark, cold joy, even if it stung that she couldn't witness their downfall in person.
"They still don't know you're alive," Dean continued.
"Let's keep it that way. Don't do anything stupid, okay? I'll call you soon."
The line went dead.
Melissa stared at her reflection in the darkened window. Her parents didn't know she existed, but they had suspicions.
Her life was now a fortress built around her friends. She knew Sunny was terrified of her father, the man who chose an election over his own daughter.
She knew Ariana was terrified of being rejected, faking a smile to hide the hollow feeling of being forgotten by her own blood.
As for Melissa, she lived by a harder rule: Don't get attached. In the end, everyone betrays you.
She stood up, smoothing out her new, pink skirt with a grimace. Even your shadow leaves you when it gets dark, she thought.
But as long as the light stayed on, she would keep them safe.