“Millie!” I exclaimed. “For the hundredth time, no!”
It was a Tuesday night and my sister was hunched over her laptop, simultaneously clicking the refresh button frantically on the One Direction Ticketek page and attempting to convince me to go with her. Suddenly, she let out a squeal.
“Eden, oh my gosh, you won’t believe this!” she cried. I sighed, exasperated. It was times like these that I wished I never agreed to share a room with my thirteen-year-old sister. There was just no escape. “What is it?”
“I have front row seats! VIP too, with backstage passes!” Another squeal. “There’s only two left, oh please Eden, come with me! Mum won’t let me go alone,” she added, pouting. I considered this for a moment.
“If I say yes, will you shut up about it?”
“Yes, oh my God, thank you Eden! I’ll go get mum’s credit card right now, this is gonna be so good!” she gushed, rushing out of the room.
What harm could it do, right?
****
