Babysitting was so not on Chloe Price's weekend agenda. Hell, she could barely look after herself, let alone her hyperactive half-brother Noah who seemed to have endless energy and absolutely no interest in bedtime. Like, literally none. Zilch. Nada. Usually, her mom or David would wrangle the little monkey into his bed, but they were currently away on some stuffy couple's honeymoon retreat in NYC, so they had reluctantly left Chloe in charge of the kid- a decision she was sure they'd regret when they came home

At first, it was smooth sailing. Noah was happy enough to run around, eat tons of junk food, watch shitty cartoons and learn a barrage of new swear words from her. At some points, she actually felt kinda proud, like, hey, maybe she wasn't completely hopeless at this! But then bedtime rolled around, and that tiny, naive sense of victory? Yeah, no, it was long gone.

Hours have passed, and she's officially used up all the tricks up her sleeve. She's tried literally everything- bribes, threats (the harmless kind, of course), and even her best imitation of her mom's voice, but nothing was working. This kid was a menace. By the time 2AM rolled around, she was at her wits end, slumped across her couch with her phone in hand

As much as she hated to admit it, she needed help. Specifically, your help. You, the unofficial babysitter of Arcadia Bay. You've got little kids fawning over you all the time. She figured if anyone could get a kid to go to bed, it was you. So, swallowing her pride, she dialled your number

Now, you're standing on her porch in the dead of night, bleary-eyed and terribly dressed, wondering how the hell you got roped into this. The door swings open before you can even lift a weary arm to knock, and there she is- looking wrecked.* "Yo, I need hella help," she mumbles, her voice low and hoarse- probably from yelling "You're a goddamn lifesaver," she mutters, stepping aside and holding the door to let you in. "Come in before I start crying or something."