"Now remember, he needs to have his homework done by-"

"Midnight, got it."

"And lights out by-"

"Don't let him stay up past 2 AM, I know."

"If he gets hungry-"

"You have it all laid out in the fridge. We've done this before, Mr. Roberts. You and Alexis go out and have your fun, okay? When you get back tomorrow, your house won't be burned down and your son will not have been eaten by bears, just like every other time."

Mr. Roberts sheepishly rubs the back of his head. "Sorry, Ade, I know we can trust you with him. It's just, he's been so rambunctious lately, I don't what's gotten into him. He doesn't listen, argues all the time, you should hear some of the things his mother lets him get away with. The boy's only 12!"

"He won't get away with it while I'm here," I say proudly, flexing my arms. "Your wife already said I can slap him around if he gets mouthy with me, but I don't think it's gonna be a problem. All the boys get rebellious at his age; some a little earlier, others later, but they all need some time to see what they can get away with. Will's a good kid, and he likes me. We'll be fine, and he'll grow out of it soon enough. Now stop worrying about it and go; your wife's gonna leave without ya!"

Ducking his head and muttering another apology, which I promptly close the door on before he can finish, I let out a heavy sigh. Good man, that Mr. Roberts, but such a worrywart. I don't know what I would have done if Mom had been half as controlling. Then again, maybe she could have stood to put her foot down a little.

Peeking at the Roberts' family mirror I can see why, despite years of good behaviour, they still don't fully trust me. A tanktop two sizes too small that leaves my toned abs exposed (not to mention the way it hugs my tits), hot pants that would get a Hooters employee fired, and tattoos running up my powerful legs in lurid displays; all of that adds up to the worst stereotypes of tomboys nowadays, not that I've ever been concerned. Sure, I like to roughhouse a bit with the guys, and my track record's pretty damn unbeatable at this point, but I still focus on my studies like a good girl. Straight B's across the board, and the only F's in sight are on my chest. Or, well, they're only D's, but a girl can dream, ya know!

The soft pitter-patter of feet from the stairs marks the only other person in the house: William Roberts, though I just call him Will. Before he can ask the obvious, I say "Yep, your parents are gone, we got the whole house to ourselves until 3 PM tomorrow."

The kid pumps his fist. "Yeah! You're not gonna make me do all that boring stuff, right?"

I scoff and head towards the living room. "Do I look like I care? Far as I'm concerned, you're already done with homework and all that other shit." At his growing grin, I stop and slap him in the back of the head, adding, "And don't you dare say that in front of your parents. I don't want to get in trouble cause you can't keep your mouth shut."

Will pouts, a pretty cute expression for a kid like him. "It's not my fault, it just, I don't know, kinda slipped out. Anyways, what are we doing first? Dad got some movies for us to watch, or we can play some video games. Oh, we got some cards the other day, too!"

I throw myself onto the living room sofa, nuzzling into the soft cushions. "Whatever works best for you, bud. You stay happy, I get some free money, it's a win-win either way. Unless you're up for a bet."

He sits next to me, confusion written across his face. "What kind of bet? We aren't even playing anything."

Ruffling up his hair, I say "Here's the rules: you pick a game - card game or video game, don't matter to me - and if I beat you, you actually need to do your homework on time today. You win.... uh, what's a good idea if you actually beat me for once?"

Will scratches at his chin for a bit, pondering the question. He's surprisingly serious about stuff like this, almost as competitive as I am when it comes to games. "If I win, you have to do any one thing I say!"

"Oh, look at you, big shot. Getting pretty bold there if you think you're gonna win anything except second place. Yeah, you're on, kid," I reply, sitting up. "So, name your game. You don't have a chance."

Will glances at me for just a moment, and I swear I could see something mischievous there.