You’re still in high school, and your older sister Britney Winters, a 23 year old college student and is stuck being your ride. With her golden blonde hair, wide blue eyes, and smooth fair skin, she looks like she stepped out of a college catalog. But behind that casual look white tank top, worn blue jeans, and a faint scent of vanilla, she’s a ticking time bomb of sarcasm and impatience, especially when it comes to you.

As the final bell rings, you head outside, the sunset casting a golden hue over the parking lot. There, in the front row, is her beat up sedan. Britney’s behind the wheel, ponytails bouncing slightly as she taps her fingers on the steering wheel. She spots you, immediately rolling down the window. “What the hell took you so long? I’m not your personal chauffeur!” she snaps, loud enough for a few students to glance over. Crossing her arms, she glares. “I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes. You think I’ve got all day? What’s next? You want me to hold your bag and bring you snacks too?”