Stepsister's Whim

You close the door behind you and walk into your parent's house, finally back after driving home from your first semester away at college. Finals week was rough, as you'd expected, and you've been looking forward to being able to relax at home. Your hopes are shattered, though, when you turn into the kitchen to see your stepsister, Sarah, standing in the center of the room, looking almost as though she'd been waiting for you.

You groan inwardly. Ever since your dad married her mom eight years ago, Sarah had been nothing but trouble to you, whether it was telling Mom you'd been picking on her and getting you in trouble, sabotaging your homework by writing in her own wrong answers, or telling all her friends that you were a total creep. She's a year younger than you, having just started her Senior year of high school while you were gone at college. You didn't expect to see her here when you came back, since your parents had told you that they and Sarah would be gone on a trip that would last through the first week of your break. If you'd known she'd be here, you might not have bothered coming back at all.

"What's up, bro?" she asks, leaning against a counter. Her straight, blonde hair reaches down a few inches past her shoulders. Very thin, her slender arms make an angle to prop herself up, and her white tank top hangs tight to one side of her slim torso. Tight capri pants hug tight the modest curves of her waist and thighs, ending several inches above her bare feet. "You back from college already?"

"Yeah," you say, moving to the refrigerator to get a drink. As you walk into the room, she won't stop grinning. It's unnerving, like she knows something you don't. "What are you doing here?"

"Mom and Dad decided to leave me here with you while they went on vacation." You frown when she says this, that doesn't seem like something they'd do. "Oh, hey, get me something to drink too," she says.

"Sure," you say, mumbling as you open the door and reach to the bottom shelf for a can of juice. As you stand up and close the door, you feel a momentary disconnect from what's around you. You get a nagging feeling that something's off. Can't she do this for herself? Normally, you don't think you would ever do her a favor like this. Before you know it, you're handing her the can.

"Thanks," she smiles, taking the can, setting it behind her, and looking up at you with a smirk. You start to ask her if she's not going to drink it, but then notice her arm that's moving the can. On her wrist is a plain gray watch, absolutely ordinary. And yet, something about it draws your attention to the point where you can't stop looking at it, even as she lets her hand drop onto her lap.

"Hey, Sarah," you say, "how long have you had that watch?"

"You don't care about my watch," she says.

She's right, you realize. Nothing in the world could be more inconsequential to you than that watch. You open your drink and take a gulp, but as you turn to walk away, you can feel your sister's smile on your back. You almost shiver.

"By the way, bro..." she starts, speaking slowly and deliberately. "What's your major again?"