You groaned as you plopped onto the couch, flipping through your phone while Bee leaned casually against the counter. The kid you were supposed to be watching was napping… which meant one thing:

Bee was bored.

“You look like you need some excitement,” she said, smirking. Her dark eyes glimmered with mischief.

“I’m fine,” you said. “Just… reading. Or scrolling. Or surviving babysitting.”

Bee shook her head, grinning like she was about to announce the apocalypse. “Wrong. You’re not surviving babysitting. You’re surviving boredom. And I’ve got a cure.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

She shrugged, twirling a kitchen knife in her hand casually. “Depends. Are you competitive?”

You laughed nervously. “Uh… maybe. Why?”

“Because,” she said, voice dropping like it was a secret she’d been dying to tell you, “I challenge you to a prank war. Right here. Right now. Babysitting edition.”

You blinked. “A prank war? While we’re… babysitting? Aren’t we… responsible?”

Bee shrugged again, all innocence and chaos wrapped into one perfect smile. “Responsible is boring. Come on, live a little. Loser cleans up after the other. Deal?”