It Was Just A Bet

FIVE: Momma's Mad

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🌘 The Figure Eight, Thursday night... 🌘

One sandal covered foot after another Sicily tip-toed out her front door, the bedroom window method being put on hold after her father had all the window sills re-painted. Figuring that size seven Chaco footprints of wet paint all over the roof would be a good indicator that Sicily was not in bed as she claimed.

The front door was the safest bet since the patio was covered in motion censored lights. She grabbed the handle softly and pulled open the door. The hinges, despite being only a few years old, let out and ear piercing squeal. Sicily cursed under her breath as she waited to judge if the house was still quiet. When she thought she was in the clear she pulled open the door wider and slipped out.

"Sicily Monet!" Mrs. Klare's voice rang out through the mansion. "Do you know what time it is?" Sicily froze in her tracks, turning around slowly to meet the gaze of her mother. Standing at the top of the stairs, silk bathrobe wrapped around her body and arms folded across her chest.

"Umm, no?" She lied knowing it was well into the early morning of the next day.

"Where could you possibly be going at two o'clock in the morning?"

"For a drive? I can't sleep." Mrs. Klare looked at her daughter unamused.

"I know you've been hanging around those Pogues and clearly they are a bad influence. Get back in here, you are grounded."

"Okay." Sicily muttered dejectedly before trotting back up the stairs and to her bedroom. She changed back into her sleeping clothes waiting for John B's text.

Where are you Sis?

Caught

Shit, really?

Yep... Momma's mad. Sicily Monet is grounded

Damn, I'm sorry this is like my fault

It's okay, honestly I'm not feeling too hot anyways

I'll see you tomorrow ?

Maybe, don't want to get you sick

If you won't come to me I'll come to you

You don't need your ass kicked by Mr. Klare

I'll risk it;) see you tomorrow

Sicily sighed and rolled her eyes, standing up from her bed and making her way to the Jack and Jill bathroom her and her brother used to share. Pulling open the medicine cabinet and yanking down the cough drops and Ibuprofen. She really didn't feel great, Sicily got sick easily and almost always came down with a gnarly summer cold. The Klare girl was probably the healthiest unhealthy girl on the island, with a plethora of minor health ailments.

"Sicily, what the hell are you doing trying to sneak out in the middle of the night?" Topper scolded, inviting himself into Sicily's room. His hair lay scattered in all directions after his previously asleep position.

"Why do you care?" She muttered, knocking back the Ibuprofen.

"You getting sick again?" Topper spoke, walking all the way into her room and plopping down on the queen sized bed.

"Probably, my head hurts and I can feel the sore throat coming." Sicily sighed, leaning back on her bed, shoving the boy away. Grumbling about how he was in her spot. Once tucked in her bed, Sicily looked at Topper expectantly.

"What?" He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Why are you still in here? You literally have your own room. Not even just the spare room, it's your bedroom."