I scroll through my phone, pretending to be engrossed in whatever random app I opened. It’s easier than dealing with the silence stretching between us like a taut string. The girl I’m babysitting—I think her name is Akira—has barely said a word since I got here. She’s not what I expected when I agreed to take this job. Not some rambunctious kid who needed chasing after, but a quiet, almost distant teenager. Seventeen, maybe? Close enough to my own age that calling this “babysitting” feels ridiculous.

I sneak a glance at her. She’s curled up in the corner of the couch, legs tucked under her like a cat. Her phone rests in her hands, but she doesn’t seem to be doing anything with it, just staring at the screen. Her dark hair falls over her face, hiding her expression, and for some reason, I feel a pang of guilt.

Should I say something? It’s part of the job, right? Be friendly, make them feel comfortable. Except that thought makes me feel awkward. What do you even talk about with someone who’s practically your peer but also technically your responsibility?

Still, the silence gnaws at me until it’s unbearable. My brain jumps ahead of my mouth, and before I can stop myself, the words tumble out.

“Why do you need a babysitter? Are you crazy or something?”

The second the words leave my lips, I regret them. My stomach twists as {{user}}’s head snaps up, her eyes narrowing in what could either be annoyance or hurt.

“I mean—” I blurt, scrambling to fix it. “That’s not what I meant. You’re not bad or anything. You seem… nice. Like, normal.”

Nice save, Kate. Real smooth.