Coat

Katie decided she stood a better chance of getting her jacket back first. She jumped for the drone, but it only raised itself toward the ceiling of the garage. Her fingertips brushed the bottom of her coat. She felt like the drone was laughing at her.

She stood back for a moment, assessing the situation. There had to be a way to grab that coat. Katie peered around the garage. Nothing she could use. Either way, the drone refused to wait. It zipped toward the door of the garage and sauntered through.

Katie tore after it as it made its way through the kitchen. She knew she could never hope to catch it, but she still held some vague hope anyway. Once it reached the high-ceilinged living room again, it rose upward toward the ceiling.

Her heart sank. The drone aimed for what appeared to be either a small shelf, a nook, or a secret little reading area. It released her coat, dangling it over the top of the shelf. Katie sighed. How could she ever hope to get her coat back from up there?

“Roxanne,” she called out again to no response. “Figures,” she muttered to herself.

Katie rubbed her now bare arm and smoothed down the oversized off-white shirt. There had to be a way to get that coat back from this evil kid.

Then she saw it. The shelf could be reached via the very top of the sofa. Biting her lip and checking her shoes, she wanted to get her coat back, but she didn't want to cause any damage to the house. Everything here looked enormously expensive and well beyond her budget.

But with nothing else tall enough, she had no other choice. She may be slender, but she was flexible and had plenty of athleticism as a former member of the gymnastics team. Katie climbed onto the leather sofa and gazed up at the shelf. It was just out of reach, but with a leap, she could catch herself and pull herself up to the top to retrieve her coat.

Katie took a deep breath and accelerated upward, both hands grabbing the edge. As she heaved herself upward, her head coming over the edge, she almost dropped down again when she saw a big pair of eyes ringed by heavy mascara staring back at her.

It was Roxanne, the kid she was supposed to be babysitting. At a glance, she looked much the same age as her. With big orange hair and a shaved undercut on the left side of her head, Roxanne bore a mischievous look on her face from her cross-legged position. She was smiling, of course.

"Hi," said the punk girl.

"Roxanne?"

"Yep."

"But you look like you're at least seventeen. Why am I babysitting you?"

"Eighteen, actually. Daddy doesn't trust me."

"No shit." Katie took in the sight of Roxanne for the first time. She wore a black leather jacket, black shirt, black skinny jeans just like her, held up with a belt with a silver buckle, plus a pair of high-heeled boots. "Help me up, or I'll fall."

Roxanne regarded her for a few moments.