All five of us were waiting, and finally, after 20 minutes, Linda broke the silence during a commercial break. The rest of us watched cartoons on the couch as Rowan played a game on his brand-new smartphone. Without trust, our babysitters never let us cut their freedom away. The girls ran up, and according to plan, tied each other up. Mind if we finish that first?” Yasmin said, jumping up before Linda could answer, though she conceded anyway. “Before dinner, Hazel and I played a game upstairs. This preoccupied his babysitter, who once more asked what we wanted to do and missed the little circle he made with his thumb and index finger. He quickly said his name and kicked his legs back and forth, pretending to be bored. “Okay, cool, and you?” Linda asked Rowan, our oldest 11-year leader. “Yasmin, also 10, and before you ask, yes, we are twins.” Linda’s knees trembled, her pupils dartled around, and her hands were unable to locate their favorite strand of blonde hair. We smirked at each other, recognizing easy prey. I am 16 years old and live a couple of blocks away. “So boys and girls, what shall we do tonight? Or, eh, maybe I should introduce myself. She lounged on the fluffy pouf that made the inevitable squeak sounds. Linda waved us all toward her, and we sat down, cramped against each other on the gray sofa. We had often asked what they did but never got an honest reply, except grown-up things. Once a month, they planned a date night that was mostly an excuse to ditch us with a babysitter and enjoy each other. “Bye!” With mom, he walked through the door and locked it. “You’ll behave, won’t you?” Dad said, inviting the five of us to nod obediently. A long, slender teenage girl stood next to and smiled awkwardly. She’ll take care of you,” mom said, fetching her car keys from the drawer.

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