The smoothie was pink and cold and ruining my favorite sweater. The strawberry-banana flavored drink dripped from my hair, onto my face and collected in a puddle at my feet. If the culprit wasn't a tiny four-year-old, I would've fought her.

But Kennedy was only a toddler, practically a baby. The most I could do was a stern look, a calm explanation about why she shouldn't have dumped my drink on me and send her to the timeout corner for five minutes.

Her six-year-old brother, Carter, watched the whole scene with wide eyes. I'd been on the floor playing dinosaurs with him when Kennedy launched her surprise attack.

She was still upset I turned the TV off and took away the tablet. But those weren't my rules. Their parents had very strict screen time limits. They got only thirty minutes during snack time. Still, the little girl pouted and stomped and crossed her chubby arms.

Now, she did all that from the tiny pink chair that faced the corner, silent little sniffles coming from her. The timer on my phone said she still had two minutes left of her punishment, but I wanted to let her out early and give her a hug.

She was usually a chill kid. She'd been in a mood, according to her dad. But, no, I had to remain firm. So, I cleaned up the smoothie, Carter helping because he loved the vacuum mop his parents had, and Kennedy served her time.

Thankfully, I still had my P.E. clothes in my bag. Even though they desperately needed a wash, the smell was better than being sticky. Still, I hit the shirt with some Hawaiian Breeze air freshener and hoped the Wrights wouldn't notice when they got back.

Babysitting wasn't on my list of career goals, but the pay was good and I got to play with toys without judgement. Plus, the kids were adorable. Well, when they weren't throwing smoothies. I needed every cent I could get if I wanted a car by next school year.

Rolling into school in a slightly used car my first day of senior year kept me from completely losing my mind. Even as I used a towel to dab pink liquid from the best twist-out I'd had in months.

After Kennedy's time out, she was ready for a nap. Carter fought it, but eventually clocked out on the playroom floor surrounded by dinosaurs.

I had, at most, an hour of time to myself before one of them woke up. I put an episode of Gossip Girl up on the tv and pulled out my math homework.

When I picked up my phone, it was to use the calculator. But my thumb slipped and I ended up on HALLZ. It was a social app for students at Valle Vista High. Some senior created it for a school project a few years back. There were different message boards and an option to create private chats.

It was entirely anonymous. The usernames were automatically generated and you were unable to change them. So, I was stuck with TruckPlums. Clearly, the creator of the app had a sense of humor.

It was kinda genius, though. The weird usernames served as great icebreakers. Also, meeting someone as TruckPlums, was easier than meeting them as Daya Hartley.

The app was meant for people to find friends or study partners, but most used it for dating. Every other week there was drama surrounding the app--catfishing, cheating, ghosting. It was why I preferred to stay anonymous.

It was easy to talk to people when no one knew who were. When you couldn't see them, and they couldn't see you.

There was a new message from LaterTofu, someone I met in the Art section on the message boards. I'd been trying to teach myself how to draw digitally and LaterTofu was helping.

But the message wasn't about the digital art. What I read made me immediately shut down the app and contemplate uninstalling altogether.

LaterTofu wanted to meet in person.

Other than the fact that he was a guy in eleventh grade and into art, I knew nothing about him. We knew nothing about each other outside of our shared interest in digital art. What possessed him to even suggest a meetup?

I set my phone aside, deciding to work on my math problems the old fashioned way. My mind kept drifting away from the numbers and back to the message.

Ghosting people wasn't my thing, but I definitely saw the appeal. Avoiding an awkward situation by simply ignoring it? Sign me up.

The guilt of not replying was eating away at me when my phone chimed. A new notification. Was it the HALLZ app? Was it LaterTofu?

I picked up my phone and braced myself as I opened the notifications.

Open up

Huffing a relieved sigh, I stood from the floor to open the door. My sister stood on the porch in all her five-foot-eight glory. She was two inches taller than me, but I always felt like I was looking up at a skyscraper. The heeled boots didn't help. Her hair was up in a sleek bun, showing off the million ear piercings she had. And she wore a dress that was clearly stolen from her mom's closet.

"Indigo Laurie, how many times have I told you about coming here when I'm working?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Daya Renee, how many times have I told you about using my government name?" She matched my stance, staring me down.

Between her height and the fact that she wasn't wearing dirty P.E. clothes, her look was more effective. I stepped aside and let her in. The Wrights didn't mind if Indy hung out at the house. She had a way of charming parents. Honestly, if they could, they'd probably have her as their sitter. But small children terrified my sister.

"Where are the demons?" She asked, taking a tentative look around the foyer.

"Sleep."

"Good," she said, her shoulders falling into a more relaxed position. "I can't stay long. I just wanted to tell you to be at my house at eight."

"First of all, you could've texted me that," I told her, ticking it off on my fingers. "Second, what's happening at your house? And third--"

"Third," she jumped in, cutting me off, "You're just gonna nod and agree and not fight me on this."

My sister had that look. The one that said "Do as I say or you will regret it". I might've been older (by a whole two months), but she was scary when she needed to be. She definitely got that from her mom.

So, I nodded, agreed, and didn't fight her on it.

She smiled triumphantly. "That's why I came in person. My threats aren't as effective over text."

I rolled my eyes, but it was true.

"Now, tell me why I'm going to your house?" I asked, walking back to the living room. Carter was still asleep on the floor. Kennedy was upstairs in her bed, still napping according to the baby monitor. We sat on the couch, among stuffed rabbits and action figures.

"My mom is on her way to a concert with some of her friends as we speak." The grin on her face could only mean one thing: trouble.

I shook my head. "No."

"You can't say no," she fired back. "You already said you'd come!"

I shushed her, waiting a few seconds to listen for Carter or Kennedy. Nothing. I glared at my sister. "That was before I knew you were trying to throw a party."

"It's not a party," she said, "just the dance team."

Well, that didn't sound too bad...

"And a couple guys from the basketball team," she continued. "And maybe a few people from--"

"Indy!"

Now, she shushed me, putting her manicured finger to my lips. "You'll wake the creatures."

We went silent for a couple seconds. No whining or pattering of little feet. Good.

"That sounds exactly like a party," I said after whacking her hand away.

She pouted, her bottom lip quivering. "Please, Day, it's only a small one."

Indy was always scheming and always dragging me into it. Not that I minded most of the time. Without her, my life would've been very boring.

Actually, if it weren't for her sneaky ways, we never would've met ten years ago. We shared a dad who was not winning any father of the year awards. He solidified that when he skipped out on not one, but two women, he got pregnant within months of each other.

It was Indy's snooping that brought her and her mom to my ballet recital all those years ago. That year, not only did I discover I had intense stage freight, but I also found out I had a sister. Throwing up on the front row wasn't my only reason for remembering that night.

Our moms bonded over a shared hatred of Sperm Donor Lamar (mine and Indy's official name for him). And, because being a single mom is hard, our parents leaned heavily on each other to get through the years.

Play dates, sleepovers, surprise trips for ice cream and to get our nails done--none of it would've happened had Indy not been the scheming person she was.

Whatever she planned either landed us in trouble with our moms or changed our lives. Sometimes both. Her brown eyes held more than a twinkle of mischief. They held the promise of something life changing.