There’s something off about Evan. I know it. Mum knows it. Dad knows it. My starry-eyed sister doesn’t, but then again, she brought him home. His hair is buzzed short, the dimple on his right cheek is winking at me, and his pressed dress shirt is too white. I just can’t put my finger on it.


Dad: “Salad, Evan?”
Evan: “Yes, sure.”


We’re all staring at him now; he’s placing a single lettuce leaf on his plate. It drops awkwardly on the table in a bilious, green lump. Dad sniffs.


Dad: “So, Evan. Work?”


My sister stiffens and Evan grins. I see his eyes glimmer with something ominous.


Evan: “I’m an advocate for change.”
Narrator: “Advocate?”, I question.
Mum: “Change?”, Mum murmurs.


He’s chatty now. Mum’s home-cooked meal is suddenly abandoned in favour of Evan’s eagerness. The leg of lamb, charred potatoes, and leafy assortment look lonely.


Evan: “I basically network for a living”, Evan continues. “I use Discord to recruit intelligent people and build up the community. It’s for a good cause.”


My sister stiffens further, if that’s even possible. She’s totally wooden.


Evan: “I host weekly meetings.”


He’s still going.


Evan: “It’s a good job.”


He’s nodding now.


Evan: “It doesn’t even feel like a job. I work from home with a like-minded group, I have fluid hours and…”, Evan pauses, swilling in a breath. “The pay is immense.”


I peel my eyes away from him. Mum’s face is crimson. Dad’s eyebrows have fused to form a furry lump. My sister needs to blink. Even the ceiling fan is miffed, spinning sluggishly above us and whirring in a low tone.


Narrator: “What do you advocate for?”, I hear myself ponder.


Evan: “Us.”


Narrator:“Us?”, I ponder further.


Evan: “You know… Like us.”


I look down at my bitterly pale arm and am flooded with realisation. Fuck.