The Babysitter

Chapter 14
The Babysitter, Part Fourteen

Part Fourteen

Just like when I changed before, the only real ‘privacy’ I got was being allowed to change in my bathroom with the door only partially closed. Noelle stood just outside, no doubt poised to stop me from doing whatever Miley might do in this situation. As if I was going to climb out of the second story window and somehow make my way down to the ground before she circled around the other way to cut me off. Maybe the redhead down the street was a good climber, but I was not fond of the idea of jumping from our roof to the nearest tree. And that would be if I could even get out the window before Noelle heard anything suspicious and burst in to keep me from escaping like that. 

It wasn’t until I had my shirt off that I noticed a few other things Paige had taken. My make-up was missing, for starters, and there wasn’t an electric object in sight. No hair dryer, or straightener; even the spare phone charger I kept in the bathroom was missing. On that observation . . . where was my phone?! I had been so caught up in the more noticeable ways my room was different thanks to my sister’s handiwork, I hadn’t noticed that she had clearly taken that from where it had been sitting on my desk as well. And now that I was thinking about it, calling a friend over to help with all of this would have been a much better option than trying to run next door or whatever. The missing phone was suddenly more of an annoyance than the way that my private bathroom had been stripped down to something a younger girl would have. Barely more than a toothbrush and toothpaste. Hell, I had more than this when I was Miley’s age.

But it’s not like seeing what she had done to my bathroom changed anything. I was still in there to put on a bra, and the bigger issue was my mistaken identity and the more important things Paige now had in her possession. God, I hadn’t worn a training bra in years. The good news was, it kept my nipples from poking out like they had slightly been doing in the thin, white top. The bad news was, I had never seen such an unflattering undergarment. Whichever one of Paige’s friends had brought over the immature bras hadn’t gotten my size quite right. The training bra was too small and, while the material was soft enough that it wasn’t painful or uncomfortably tight, it flattened my chest down to two little mounds that barely existed. 

I was considering bailing on the bra, weighing the pros and cons of actually having boobs but awkwardly showing some nipple vs. looking even more like Paige’s little sister thanks to how I was practically flat as a board, when Noelle called in. “Miley? Almost done?”

Inwardly groaning, I made the snap decision to pull the tank top back on. Less because I thought it was the better call, and more because I didn’t want Noelle barging in while I was topless. While I had changed plenty of times in front of other girls, it wasn’t different when said girl refused to believe that I was actually her peer. Also, my bare boobs weren’t that impressive, either. “Yeah,” I muttered. Giving the nearly empty counter one more annoyed look, I opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom.

“Good,” Noelle nodded, “Let’s go. I haven’t forgotten that you’re not technically allowed in here right now. Is there anything else you need? We won’t be coming back up here until later tonight.”

Was there anything? Trying to keep a straight face, I mentally and physically scoured my room for the smallest shred of evidence that I was actually Alyssa. Something in the closet? In one of the boxes under the bed? If there was, I couldn’t think of it in the short timespan I had after Noelle asked. Old clothes and other things wouldn’t prove anything, and it’s not like I wrote my name on tags or anything. “No,” I muttered, “I’m fine.” Even if there was something I had overlooked, there was a good chance Paige had gotten to it first. Especially if any of her friends helped. 

Noelle made the point to close my bedroom door behind us. It’s not like she had the ability to lock me out of my own room or anything, but the simple act of visually sealing it away was disheartening. I was usually on the other side of that door when Paige’s friends were over, usually with my headphones on since they weren’t particularly quiet when they were hanging out. And God forbid I ask her to close her own door or keep things down, because suddenly I was a stick in the mud and trying to ‘ruin their fun.’ 

I half expected more homework when we returned to the kitchen, but my babysitter had something else in mind. “Your sister has guests over,” she said, “Why don’t we make the kitchen nice for when the pizza arrives?”

Yet again, I realized just how frustrating this whole ‘Miley’ thing was. Under normal circumstances, I would point out that Paige should really be cleaning and preparing for guests herself if she was the one hosting. But it was so easy to see how saying something like that now would make me look like a lazy brat. It really was all a matter of perspective. Pointing out things as Paige’s same aged step-sister wasn’t at all the same as complaining about them as an allegedly difficult younger girl. 

Hoping that Noelle didn’t catch my hesitation, I replied, “Sure. I’ll start with the dishwasher.” 

The truth was, I honestly didn’t mind cleaning. It was cathartic for me, personally. The issue with this was more the principle of the matter. Doing chores because I was being a responsible girl was different from tidying for my sister when I would normally be holing up in my room. I had learned forever ago that giving her free rein of the house when her friends were over was way less painful than having them filter into the living room when I was clearly there first, for example. But this latest turn of events was swinging things further in the annoying direction. Instead of Paige and company interrupting me and messing with the peace and quiet I preferred, I was about to be a helpful ‘little sister’ for them while they weren’t even present. 

Yet. 

I hadn’t forgotten about Paige’s offer to include me and Noelle in the pizza order. While it was friendly on the surface, I knew my sister better than that. Since Violet had already called me ‘Miley’ without Paige there to prompt her, I could already assume that all of them knew about the misunderstanding that had snowballed out of control for me thanks to Paige’s meddling. She would have gleefully shared about the way she immediately took advantage of the situation by calling me ‘Miley’ herself, as well as how I had literally been spanked in front of her. 

Obviously, Noelle firmly believed that I was actually Miley. But that didn’t mean I needed Paige and every single one of her friends addressing me as such as they helped themselves to pizza. 

More importantly, I didn’t want them to see the results of Paige’s handiwork. 

If I didn’t fix this soon, things would only get worse for me.

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