Sarah climbed the stairs, nervously following the familiar sound of The Ettes, blaring loud enough to reach the sidewalk outside S’s house. Cautious, she pushed open the door to her room.
When she’d asked Helena to babysit, she’d kind of been expecting Disney movies and string cheese for lunch. Not whatever this was.
Sarah’s clothes were strewn all around the room: she recognized her Sex Pistols shirt hanging off her lampshade, some underwear dangling from the windowsill. In the middle of the apocalyptic mess were the two culprits, dancing (or thrashing, to be more accurate) to the music, Helena in Sarah’s Clash t-shirt and leather pants, and Kira in her jacket.
“Sarah!” Helena shouted in surprise, nearly tripping over the corner of the bed. She cast her eyes around the room as Sarah just blinked in stunned silence.
“Do not worry!” she continued, embarrassment in her voice even as she screamed over the music. “We will clean!”
“Right,” Sarah said, shell-shocked. “Right. I’m just gonna… pretend I didn’t see anything.”
She pulled the door closed, slowly covering up the guilty faces of her sister and daughter. With a sigh, she turned and headed back down the stairs, hoping against hope that there was still some string cheese left in the fridge.