The Babysitter, Part Thirteen
Part Thirteen
I was broken out of my appalled and beyond frustrated state by Noelle’s voice.
My annoyance at both her bossy tone and this latest turn of events threatened to flare out more than it already had, but I managed to keep myself from snapping. The stern brunette’s only crime was refusing to listen to me due to how difficult she had assumed her actual charge was to manage. Paige was the issue here. If she had just kept her fucking mouth shut, I would have already sorted out this misunderstanding with Noelle. Outright bitching about things now would make me look more like Miley than anything else, and the last thing I needed was another spanking. The tone of Noelle’s voice was warning enough.
Softly exhaling in an attempt to center myself despite how I was still internally furious at my sister, I turned from my closet and walked over to Miley’s babysitter. “Sorry,” I muttered. Trying to get ahead of whatever lecture she was about to throw my way, I tried to explain what was going on without including the part of the story that she wasn’t going to take seriously. “Paige went through my stuff without asking.”
“You do remember she picked out that outfit for you, right?” Noelle pointed out. Of course, she didn’t understand the depth of how Paige had screwed with my room in order to keep Noelle in the dark about my real age. Or, more accurately, to keep me from easily proving it. “More importantly, you really shouldn’t be swearing. I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but we’re going to have a problem if it happens again.”
Right. Because I was supposed to be a thirteen year old who needed a serious amount of attitude adjustment. “I didn’t mean to,” I muttered. Right away, I blushed at how immature the reply sounded. It really was getting to the point where nothing I did or said seemed to reflect the fact that I was eighteen. And honestly, I was being honest with my response. I wasn’t normally the type of girl to swear, at least when it came to school, ballet, or my friends. Paige just brought out the worst in me, with all the buttons she seemed to push whether she was trying to or not.
Going on, Noelle said, “And I thought we were done with this whole ‘Alyssa’ thing. You’re not still trying to tell me that you’re not Miley, are you?”
Well. That’s exactly what I just told her. Hoping it was rhetorical, I tried to be a bit more specific in terms of what my current issue was. “Noelle, look at my desk. Paige literally took everything.” She obviously had been rushing, as it didn’t look like she made much of an effort to replace my stuff with anything else. The immature outfits were the exception, of course, although that made sense. It would have been simple enough for her friends to bring over whatever old clothes they had stuffed in a box in their respective basements, but it’s not like Paige had planned for the weekend to go like this. If I had to guess, she was just doing whatever came to mind that was quick and easy to get away with. Stealing was easier than replacing, for the most part.
Unfortunately, this was Noelle’s first time in my room. She had no frame of reference, and was also primed upon arrival to take everything ‘Miley’ said with a degree of skepticism. “How do you know it was Paige?” she asked, “It’s the end of the school year. Your parents could have cleared things out for you. Or maybe confiscated whatever you had stashed away in there?”
Ugh, there was no winning with this girl. “It was Paige,” I insisted, “And who would be stupid enough to stash anything right in a desk drawer where anyone could see it?”
“So you’re saying you stash things in other places?” she raised an eyebrow.
“No!” I exclaimed. Blushing a little more at how unintentionally shrill my reply was, I glanced away and muttered, “I swear, it was my sister. She messed with my room.”
“Instead of getting ready for her friends to arrive? Come on, Miley. We came up here for a reason. Grab yourself a bra, and let’s go.”
It was clear my options were getting more limited. With Paige and her friends hanging out in her bedroom, I couldn’t just walk in and start looking for all the things she stole. And that was provided she actually hid my stuff in her room. There were plenty of nooks and crannies in our house where she could have dispersed the more important items that would directly show my real identity. And with Noelle supervising my every move, it’s not like I could start tearing the house apart. Running next door was still questionable as well, until I had enough of a moment to myself and a path that wouldn’t draw her attention too early.
Honestly, the only worthwhile idea I could think was getting her to call Miley’s parents. Or my parents, maybe. If the rebellious teen down the street needed to be watched all weekend, there was a good chance her parents didn’t want to be disturbed and/or were unavailable to answer the phone. But my parents . . . what were the chances Noelle would assume it was a ploy? For all I knew, Miley could have pulled a similar stunt in the past. Maybe she had a friend or a friend’s older sister who was good at impressions, and said conspirator could sound enough like Miley’s parents over the phone to call a former babysitter off. I knew girls who used tactics like that to ditch school. And with so few options left, I didn’t want to waste one like that unless I was sure it wouldn’t somehow backfire on me.
For now, I’d have to be content with putting on my best push-up bra. It wouldn’t solve the main issue, but at least Paige and her friends wouldn’t see how flat chested I was without a bit of support.
I don’t know how I didn’t see it coming. After what she had done to my closet and the rest of my room, I should have braced myself when it came to yet another part of my wardrobe. As I opened the top drawer to pick something out from my decent collection of lingerie, my eyes slightly widened as I took in the sight waiting for me.
Most of my nice colors and lace numbers had been removed. The only underwear left was white or nude for the most part, with a handful of pinks and purples I had never seen before. Plain panties, with the most basic cut, despite how I normally had a variety of styles. What my sister or her friends did to my underwear, however, paled in comparison to what they did to my bras.
Every single one had been taken from the drawer and, in their place, was a small stack of training bras. For a few long seconds, I just stared. Was Paige serious right now?!
I didn’t get long to process the additional invasion. Noelle spoke up again. “Stop stalling, Miley. Pick a bra, or you can go without.”
Was it better to not wear one at all? Making a snap decision like that would be a bad idea. So, while internally cursing my sister out, I grabbed the training bra on top of the stack.