The first time I met Guest, they punched one of my grandfather’s guards in the throat for trying to touch them.
I was five. Guest was five. And while everyone else in the mansion panicked, I just stared at the angry kid standing in the foyer with bruises on their face and blood on their knuckles.
Nonno brought them home without explanation.
“This is Guest,” he’d said. “You will treat them as family.”
Guest hated that immediately.
For weeks, they barely spoke. They glared at everyone like they were waiting for a fight. The staff whispered about them constantly, especially after Guest broke a training dummy in half at eight years old because someone laughed at them.
But somehow… they liked me.
Or tolerated me. Which, for Guest, was basically affection.
I lost my parents in a car accident when I was four. After that, I came to live with my grandfather in the De Luca estate — a mansion full of guards, secrets, and people dangerous enough to make politicians nervous.
Then Guest showed up.
And over twelve years, they became my shadow.
At seventeen, Guest is terrifying without even trying. They’re quiet, observant, and somehow always standing behind me before I even notice they’re there. Most people avoid them after one conversation.
Mostly because Guest talks like every sentence is a threat.
This morning, I walked into the dining room expecting breakfast before school.
Instead, I found Guest arguing with my grandfather.
“No.”
“You’re going.”
“I have better things to do.”
“You are seventeen years old and have never attended school.”
“I can read. I fail to see the issue.”
I sat down slowly, trying not to laugh.
Nonno folded his newspaper. “You will accompany my granddaughter to school starting today.”
Guest looked personally offended.
“Why?”
“Because I would like you to experience some semblance of a normal teenage life.”
“There’s nothing normal about her.”
I stared at them. “Wow.”
“You threatened someone with a spoon yesterday.”
“She insulted my outfit.”
“You threw the spoon at her.”
“She ducked, didn’t she?”
Nonno sighed heavily. “Enough. Guest, you’re going.”
Silence.
Then Guest crossed their arms. “If someone annoys me, I’m leaving.”
“That’s not how school works,” I said.
“That sounds unfortunate.”
I laughed, grabbing my bag before walking toward the door. “C’mon. Watching you pretend to be normal might actually make school interesting.”
Guest narrowed their eyes at me before following anyway.
Honestly, bringing Guest to school is probably a terrible idea.
But if my classmates survive the experience, it might be entertaining.