The Good, the Bad and the Bossy (Best Babysitters Ever). Caroline Cala

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      “To each her own,” said Malia. “But I, for one, will babysit every second I can until we are all sitting front row at that concert.”

      And she meant every word.

      Malia arrived home floating on a cloud. She had taken to listening to Veronica on her way to and from anywhere, as she found it inspired her to make her dreams a reality.

      “I saw your face on my phone. You just won’t leave me alone,” sang Veronica. Of course, this made Malia think of Connor. “Social me-me-me-me-media. But everything’s about you.”

      Malia felt so joyful that she almost didn’t mind when she bumped into her sister, Chelsea, the seventeen-year-old human equivalent of an evil snake, making her way through the front hallway.

      “Why, if it isn’t the smaller version of me!” said Chelsea. This was her idea of the ultimate compliment. It was also a stark contrast from the usual insults Chelsea flung Malia’s way.

      Immediately, Malia was suspicious.

      “What do you want?” she asked.

      “The real question is: what do YOU want? What do you want, little sister, from your life?”

      Yes, Chelsea was up to something. But really, Chelsea was always up to something. Previously, she had formed a rival babysitting business and attempted to put Malia and her friends out of business. Who knew what sort of terrible scheme she was devising now.

      “Right now, all I want is to go to my room,” Malia said, then added, “where you aren’t allowed.”

      Malia’s eyes landed on the large framed family portrait that hung near the front door. The entire family – Mom, Dad, Chelsea, and Malia stood dressed in white and beaming for the camera. It looked so happy, and so misleading. Malia could barely remember another time when she had been in Chelsea’s presence and made that same expression.

      “Oh, Malia. When I was your age, I was so ambitious. I was already mapping out my future. I think it’s about time you started to do the same.”

      Malia tried to go around her, but Chelsea blocked her path.

      “MOM!” Malia yelled, which was the easiest way she could think of to make this situation stop.

      “Yes?” called their mother. Moments later she appeared, with a celery stalk in her hand.

      “Chelsea is harassing me about my future again,” said Malia.

      “That is an unfair assessment. I was just trying to offer Malia a chance to follow in my unusually accomplished footsteps.”

      “I can make my own footsteps!” Malia protested.

      “By joining our team at Abernathy Inc.” Chelsea paused, waiting for a reaction.

      “Wait, what?” asked Malia. This was news to her.

      “Ramona and I are looking for a new junior intern,” Chelsea continued, “and I think Malia would be a perfect fit.”

      Chelsea had recently accepted an internship with Ramona Abernathy, a retired tech mogul and the wealthiest woman in all of Playa del Mar. Even though she was technically retired, Ramona was still a very busy woman. As Chelsea explained it, she worked as a consultant on all sorts of projects and sat on the board of many organizations. Malia didn’t quite understand what that meant, but she gathered that it was important. And working for Ramona was impressive, by any measure.

      “Oh my goodness! What an honour,” said their mom.

      Still, Malia was skeptical. This was Chelsea, after all. Her big sister was known for achievement in every area except kindness. Doing Malia favours was not a bullet point on her very long résumé. In fact, she wasn’t even particularly inclined to include Malia in social activities, routinely excluding her from social gatherings in their own house and “forgetting” to wait for Malia to join the carpool home from school.

      But now Chelsea was being nice? For no apparent reason? Something was amiss.

      “I think this sounds like a wonderful opportunity!” said their mom, clapping her hands together as though she was at a Broadway show.

      “Does it pay?” Malia asked.

      “It pays to put it on your résumé,” Chelsea said, rolling her eyes.

      “That kind of experience is priceless,” said their mother. Malia’s mom worked as a career counsellor, and this kind of thing was right up her alley.

      “The internship is every Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday after school, plus Saturdays,” said Chelsea.

      “Whoa. Four days? But what about babysitting?” Malia asked. “And schoolwork? I’m already super busy.” And the Veronica concert is happening in a few weeks, she silently added.

      Chelsea snorted. “Like you’ve ever been serious about school. And look at me. I’m able to balance my internship with school, plus way more activities than you’ve ever done.”

      “Malia, I’m glad you’re thinking about time management,” said their mom.

      “Yes, and I have a lot on my plate,” said Malia. This was a phrase her mom used a lot, so Malia hoped it might work to her advantage.

      “But time management is a great skill for you to work on,” her mom concluded. “And this can be practice. Having an internship will teach you how to prioritize!”

      “Unless you’re afraid you can’t do it,” Chelsea added.

      Malia sensed this was a fight she would never win. Plus, she hated it when Chelsea acted superior. If Chelsea could balance everything, then surely Malia could, too.

      “Okay, so how does it work? Do I have to apply?” she asked.

      “Just come with me to the office on Thursday,” Chelsea said. “I’ve already talked you up. You’re my sister, and Ramona will love you.”

      “Could I, like, try it out first?” Malia asked. She was terrified of committing to something that would eat up four days of her week, without the promise of money or Connor or her friends or anything of the other things that brought joy.

      “Malia, this is an opportunity hundreds of girls would kill for,” Chelsea said. “It’s a yes or a no.”

      Malia had never liked that phrase, about the things other girls would kill for. Anything involving killing was sure to be bad, including the sound of this internship. Still, she felt trapped. If she said no, she would look like a wimp in front of Chelsea. If she said yes, she just cut her available babysitting time in half, not to mention her funds. She had a concert to go to and Connor’s heart to win.

      “I don’t know . . .” Malia waffled.

      “The answer is yes,” said her mom.

      “Yes?” said Malia tentatively.

      Her mom beamed. Chelsea smirked. Malia sighed.

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