Patreon Story: The Road Trip, Parts 1-11

Part One

“Come on, Annie!”

“No.”

“Please? Please, please, please?!”

God, she was whiny! For a girl who physically looked like an older version of me, Kate certainly didn’t act the part. Around our parents, she was a cute and innocent angel. At school, she was a popular girl and a total flirt. Around me, she was an obnoxious brat. You’d think turning eighteen would have made her grow up a little, but this wasn’t much different than the way she operated in middle school. Being a total social chameleon. When it came to me, her older sister, she had a whole lifetime of us being related to figure out my buttons and how to push them. Kate usually combated my stubbornness and maturity with her own stubbornness and immaturity, begging and whining and pleading until she got her way.

The worst part was, it almost always worked. Most of the time, just to get her to shut up.

But not this time. “No, Kate.” I sternly said, crossing my arms to show just how serious I was. The pose probably worked a lot better back when I was taller than her. Still, I was determined to show her that this wasn’t happening.

“God, Annie, you’re so boring! It’s not like anyone will know. Can’t you just be fun? Like, for once in your life?”

I just rolled my eyes in response. Our definitions of ‘fun’ rarely aligned. Especially in this instance, as embarrassing me would clearly be one sided in terms of who was having a good time.

Pull-ups.

That was Kate’s super fun idea. One minute, we were shopping for snacks at the rest stop. The next, her eyes were lighting up and she was grabbing a pack of disposable underwear off one of the shelves we were walking past. She giggled and gushed over how the light pink reminded her of some of the underwear I used to wear when we were kids, and how these would totally fit me despite the packaging saying ‘Ages 8-12,’ and that I should try them on just for fun.

I was nineteen years old, a year and a half older than my sister. However, puberty really fucked me over. Seventh grade was my first and last growth spurt. 5’0 and 3/4. I didn’t even break 5’1, as I was constantly reminded by the penciled growth chart back at our house in one of the doorways. My hips and chest existed, but really only enough to identify me as a girl. So yes, pull-ups sized for tweens would probably fit my twig frame, which is exactly why there was no way in hell I’d give Kate the satisfaction.

“Nope, I’m going to keep being boring,” I shrugged. It would be pointless trying to explain to my sister that I was fun in my own way, plus leaning into her attempt at an insult was the best way to dismiss her, “Come on. We still have to get drinks.”

“Ugh, Annie! It’s a dare. You have to do it. How about $10? Or $50, for the whole ride!” she smiled, trying to haggle when I clearly didn’t even want to meet her at the table. I was about to roll my eyes and walk away, until she threw out something she knew would be enticing, “I might even consider calling you 'Annelise' for the rest of the trip."

Fuck.

She knew she had me.

While I was cursed by puberty, Kate was blessed. She caught up to me when she was thirteen, and now had a full five inches on me at eighteen years old. Curves that put mine to shame; a perfect hourglass figure. And the worst part? She didn’t even try. No sports, no workouts, no diets, nothing. At first, I was just a little envious, but that envy ended up turning into constant frustration about my size thanks to how my sister acted.

Ever since her growth spurt, Kate had gone out of her way to make me look like her younger sister. Not quite bullying, but close enough. Little patronizing comments here and there, random hair tugs and hip checks, and only ever calling me ‘Annie.’ Nothing overt or malicious. Just that small, knowing smile, as she knew full well that I couldn’t make a big deal about an offhand comment that no one else around us batted an eye at. And, since I was the older sister, I would end up looking like the bad guy if I snapped at her.

The worst part was, a handful of people had taken to the name ‘Annie,’ despite how it had never been a nickname of mine before, even when growing up. One or two boys at my home church, most of her high school friends, and even one of MY friends once at our graduation party, just due to the repetition of Kate saying it whenever my friends were over. The girl apologized immediately and corrected herself, of course, but the damage was done. Kate was ‘winning,’ simply by being casually persistent.

Going into this trip, I expected Kate to call me ‘Annie’ all weekend long in an attempt to get our cousins, and maybe aunt and uncle, to pick up the nickname. If she poisoned the waters like that, who knows how the nickname might circle throughout our extended family? Which is exactly why her offer was so tempting. Especially after two semesters of college, a place where everyone actually called me what I wanted to be called.

Rather than dismiss her again, I hesitated. Apparently that was enough to tell her that I was on board. “Yay!” she squealed, grinning and handing me the pack of pink pull-ups, “Meet me at the checkout counter. I’ll grab the drinks!”

And, just like that, she skipped away.

Part Two

I hadn’t even agreed to anything yet! But there I was, standing alone in the rest stop aisle with the babyish underwear Kate was so eager to make me wear. Sighing to myself, I made my way to the front of the store. Thank God this was on a road trip, far away from our home city. I could feel my cheeks flushing at the thought of someone seeing me holding such an embarrassing item, but I’d probably be a lot more paranoid if there was a risk of being seen by someone I knew. Logically, I knew that the average person would assume I was buying them for a younger girl, but the knowledge that Kate wanted ME to put them on made it impossible to fight apprehension with logic.

A minute later, Kate appeared from a nearby aisle. Before, she just had a small box of crackers for us to share. Now, she was holding several bags of candy and a large variety pack of Gatorade. Yeah, we had four hours left on the drive, but we also just had lunch. Whatever.

“Ready to checkout, Annelise?” Kate asked. It was actually kind of weird hearing my full name in her voice after so long, even with the exaggerated tone. She beamed at the sight of me still holding the pack of pull-ups. Before I could change my mind, Kate strutted right up to the counter and placed her items down, plucking the pack from my hands and adding it to the pile.

I watched in nervous silence as the checkout girl scanned the items one by one. The pull-ups were first, as Kate had placed them on top, and now I’d have to go through the trouble of getting the girl to remove them from the order if I wanted to bail. It would just be a series of clicks on the computer, but it was still always a little awkward to interrupt an otherwise smooth transaction. I half expected Kate to turn to me and say that she ‘forgot’ her wallet, a constant move she’d use in order to get me to pay for all kinds of things. She would pay me back, most of the time, but only after a lot of reminders. Apparently her excitement about this little dare was enough for her to forego that little song and dance, as she immediately pulled out her credit card and paid for everything.

The moment the chip was successfully read, Kate grabbed her card and stashed it away. Then she picked up the underwear pack and handed it to me again. “Meet me by the bathroom, Annelise.” She grabbed the drinks and snacks and headed for the exit to put everything else in the car.  Meanwhile, I retreated into one of the aisles when I realized what my sister just said right in front of the cashier girl across the counter and what it would imply.

Despite the embarrassing absurdity of this dare, and my gut instinct telling me to simply put the recently purchased pull-ups on any nearby shelf and walk away, I found myself listening to my sister’s parting words and finding the bathrooms in the back corner of the rest stop store.

Was this worth it? Kate already called me ‘Annelise’ twice, and I hated that it was actually working. Offering me something that should never have been taken away from me to begin with. Taking a breath, I realized that I only had so much time until Kate returned. Then I would lose the precious solitude that a road trip rarely otherwise offered. I had to weigh the pros and cons while I had the chance.

My sister wasn’t wrong. No one would know. It’s not like she was asking me to put on an outfit piece that would exaggerate my unfortunate size. Plus I was wearing a skirt, which would hide any bulk from the pull-ups. And, if I went along with this, then she would use my full name around our extended family. Certainly a pro.

But, if I went along with it, Kate would know. My dignity would definitely take a hit, no matter how innocent and fun she pretended a dare like this was. And would we be stopping again? As awful as being called ‘Annie’ was, my sister blurting out “Annelise is wearing PULL-UPS” would be much, much worse. And/or just pulling my skirt down or up for the visual. I definitely wouldn’t put it past her, which means that I’d have to change back before we arrived to avoid the risk. Or just go commando, I guess, since I could always just pull the underwear off and shove it in my backpack before getting out of the car.

Most importantly, what mattered more? Giving Kate the satisfaction of me willingly putting something this embarrassing on, or more or less ‘allowing’ her to fuck up my name all weekend long?

Thirty seconds later, when I saw Kate walking back from the car after stashing away her snacks, I knew I had to make a decision. The pros and cons flashed across my mind as she entered the rest stop store again and meandered through the aisles until she joined me by the private restrooms. Ugh, and she was drinking from a lemon-lime Gatorade. In my opinion, every other flavor was better, especially the red and orange ones. As usual, Kate and I had nothing in common as sisters.

“Well, Annelise?” she said, “Ready to put on your pull-ups?”

Part Three

The mature college school girl within me was screaming ‘NO.’

I’m nineteen. Way too old and way too mature to be wearing something so childish. Especially since it was Kate’s dare, and nothing good ever comes from letting my younger sister have her way. But my self conscious side was pushing back against the voice of reason. I already wore heels and slightly padded bras to enhance my otherwise petite body, as well as clever make-up and perfect hair for as many mature features as possible. Being called ‘Annie’ really undermined that, especially since my red hair made it too easy for people to compare me to the freckled orphan from the musical. 

Yes, pull-ups were obviously beyond immature as well, but it was different. They’d be hidden. No one would actually know, as long as I was careful and as long as Kate didn’t do anything to screw me over. The name ‘Annie,’ however, wouldn’t be hidden in the slightest. I’d have to deal with it all weekend long, and it was easy to imagine my younger cousins latching onto the nickname. Still. I wasn’t exactly enthused about the way my sister called them MY pull-ups, and there wasn’t exactly a lot of trust when it came to the girl. 

“Kate, do you promise not to tell anyone?” I asked. Thinking quickly, I added the other option, “Or show anyone?” Lifting my skirt would be difficult to prevent on my end, no matter how guarded I stayed. I still planned on taking them off before arriving, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t expose me to our parents on the way.

Kate gasped. She had the most exaggerated expression of shock and surprise all over her face, which almost earned her another eye roll from me. “An-ne-lise,” she said, enunciating each syllable, “What kind of sister do you think I am?” Kate held up three fingers as she settled back into a more nonchalant smile, “Your secret is safe with me. Scout’s honor.”

“You dropped out of Girl Scouts in 4th grade.”

“So? Once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout!”

“I’m serious, Kate. You can’t say a word. To anyone.”

“I won’t. But you have to wear them for the whole drive, sis. No changing until we’re out of the car, okay?”

I internally cursed at that little stipulation. It would be a lot more difficult to discreetly remove them between the car and our relatives’ house. That made it more of a risk if Kate decided to go back on her word and embarrass me, but I could still dart to the bathroom the moment we arrived. It’s common enough to need that kind of break after a long drive, and I could do a quick swap before visiting with anyone.

“Promise me, Kate.” I looked her dead in the eyes. I’m the older sister. Even if I have to look up in order to keep eye contact, I can still be serious. “You’ll call me ‘Annelise’ for the whole weekend.” Echoing her tone, wanting to be sure it wasn’t going to be one of those things where we made a deal without actually making a deal. I needed to hear her say it. And, while Kate was a lot of things, the two of us did take our promises pretty seriously. 

She gazed down at me for a second, then glanced away in thought. In retrospect, her hesitation should have made me call things off right then and there. In classic teenage fashion, my sister was trying to think of a promise that wasn’t so cut and dry. And I was letting her, simply by not speaking up. “I promise to call you ‘Annie’ while you’re wearing your pull-ups,” Kate said, with a wink. Moving right on, she continued, “And yes, Annelise. When your dare is over and you’re back in your big girl underwear, I promise to call you Annelise all weekend.”

Unbelievable. That meant she was going to call me Annie for the whole drive! And after just giving me a taste of my preferred name again. Nothing was ever easy or straightforward with her. “Kate, no,” I said. It was important to put my foot down when it came to her antics, especially when I was already doing something so demeaning. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“It’s too late, Annelise,” Kate said, “Unless you’re saying I should break a promise?”

FUCK. 

She immediately put me in an impossible position. As the older sister, I’ve lectured her about the importance of keeping her word. Leave it to Kate to twist that into making a promise in a way that binds her to something that works to her advantage. “That’s not-” I began. “You can’t-” Ugh! I couldn’t even find the words.

But Kate could. “Your choice, Annelise. But choose quickly. Mom and Dad are going to wonder what’s taking us so long.” She stepped over to the private bathroom and pulled the door open for me to enter if I wanted to. “Pull-ups and ‘Annie,’ or ‘Annie’ all weekend?”

The time pressure just made everything worse. Part of me still knew this was a terrible idea, but I was also falling victim to the ‘logic’ of her conditions. Kate was already regularly calling me ‘Annie’ these days. She had been doing so for months, and for the first half of the drive as well. What was another few hours? The only reason that it stung was because I had been given false hope. I also noted that she was still calling me ‘Annelise’ at the moment, which aligned with her promise. She would only call me the annoying name once the pull-ups were on. 

One little dare. Just a few hours in embarrassing underwear, and then I could have a normal weekend where I wasn’t cringing at Kate’s name for me and constantly correcting her around our cousins. 

“Kate. Promise me.” I took one step towards the bathroom. That’s it. Showing her I was game, but not wanting to cave without some assurances. “You won’t tell anyone. You won’t touch my skirt. This stays between us.”

“Where’s the trust, sis?” Kate giggled, “But fine. I promise I won’t tell anyone about your pull-ups. I promise I won’t touch your skirt. Happy?”

Not quite. “You promise this stays between us?”

“Jesus, Annelise. It’s just a sister’s dare. Yes. I promise it stays between us. Now, stop stalling and put your pull-ups on.

They’re not MY pull-ups!!! If we weren’t in public, I might’ve yelled just that. Instead, I merely scowled and walked into the bathroom. Kate’s annoyed tone already made me feel a little bit judged. At this point, it was best to just get it over with and pretend that I wasn’t bothered by the embarrassing underwear.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get the privacy I was hoping for. Rather than closing the door behind me, Kate followed me into the bathroom.

Part Four

“Kate, what are you doing?”

“Making sure you do your dare! What, would you rather lift your skirt to prove it outside?”

“No, but-” I began, trailing off. As usual, my sister had a way of making it sound like she was right. There were plenty of reasons why I shouldn’t have to do what she was suggesting, but none of them came to mind. The visual of lifting my skirt in public, showing off pull-ups that I was now wearing, was enough to give me pause. That, and arguing would no doubt just draw this process out. 

As always, the best option was to just act like none of this bothered me. 

Resisting the urge to sigh, I opened the pack of pull-ups. Knowing that any hesitation would only result in potential teasing, I wasted no time taking one of the bulky pairs out. The light pink made me reflexively cringe, as I had given up the color years ago. For a redhead my size, pink wasn’t the most flattering color. Thankfully, the childish underwear would be under my skirt. Unfolding the pull-up, vaguely familiar with the material from my babysitting days, I adjusted my weight so I could step into the first leg hole without inadvertently flashing my sister. 

“Annelise, what are you doing?” Kate asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I was actually a bit surprised she interrupted, considering how I could still change my mind at any second. I definitely caught how quickly she turned my question around on me.

She just sighed. “You don’t wear pull-ups over regular underwear. What if you have an accident? That would be a total nightmare to deal with!”

“Why does it matter? It’s just a stupid dare.”

“Then do your stupid dare properly. Otherwise, it doesn’t count.”

For a few long moments, I just stared Kate down. Was she really going to insist on this? It was bad enough that I was letting her watch me put on pull-ups, but low key stripping in front of my sister was uncomfortable too. That same small voice in the back of my head was telling me to just throw the recently purchased underwear into the bathroom trash can and walk away, but I was mentally committed now that we had circled around promises and deals for so long already.

Without much bravado, I simply reached under my skirt to get a decent grip on my underwear. The entire time, I kept a close eye on Kate, still suspicious that she might try to catch some of this on camera. She didn’t, thankfully, and it didn’t take long for me to tug my panties down my slim thighs. It was wearing a boring white pair of underwear, and I was immediately tempted to explain to my fashionable sister that I had only chosen such a set since we were on the way to visit our cousins; the last place nice underwear really mattered. 

Kate didn’t tease me, surprisingly, though I guess she was already pushing her luck with everything else. I let the underwear drop to my ankles and I stepped out of the leg holes as gracefully as I could manage; not only was the light breeze underneath my skirt embarrassing, but I also didn’t exactly know what to do with the underwear now in my hand. Putting them in my purse seemed a little gross, so I ultimately decided to tuck them into the open pack of pull-ups.

“Happy?” I muttered.

“Now put on your pull-ups, Annelise,” she simply said in response.

Now that we weren’t in public any more, I could be more vocal about my distaste for that particular phrase. “They’re not mine, Kate.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sis. Did we buy them for someone else? Or did we buy them for you?”

“You know what I mean.” 

As usual, it wasn’t worth trying to deal with my younger sister’s ‘logic.’ Instead, the best play at this point was to just get it over with. Letting Kate get a rise out of me would only enable her. Her size advantage and her teasing would always bother me; I just had to get better at not letting it show.

Taking the partially unfolded pull-up I had temporarily set aside, I got to work. Trying my very hardest to pretend Kate wasn’t watching me with an amused grin, I stepped one foot after another into the leg holes. ‘Please don’t fit, please don’t fit.’ I quietly prayed as I slid the childish underwear up my legs. They were designed for tweens, and I was a nineteen year old college girl. Admittedly, my legs were pretty twig-like and my lower curves were even less impressive than the upper ones, but still. I was an adult. 

Then again, what would happen if they didn’t fit? Technically I made an attempt to try them on, which was kind of the dare. But if I couldn’t wear them for the whole car ride, which was definitely Kate’s stipulation in regards to calling me ‘Annelise’ once we arrived, would she claim my efforts didn’t count for anything?

I didn’t have to wonder for too long. When I reached my thighs, the pull-ups didn’t resist in the slightest. Unable to help my blush the farther upwards I went, I soon found the waistband of the padded underwear wrapped snugly around my hips. When I felt the slight bulk between my thighs, and the padding against my ass, I was immediately tempted to just yank the embarrassing thing all the way back down my legs. But if it was sunk cost fallacy before, I was definitely in too deep at this point. There was no way I was going to give Kate the satisfaction of putting on pull-ups and letting her screw up my name on purpose because I bailed so soon.

“Well? Do they fit?” Kate asked. She gazed at me with curiosity as I removed my hands from underneath my skirt and adjusted my outfit to make sure nothing looked out of place after changing underwear. My expression must have said everything, because she smiled widely at my awkward silence, “Oh my God, I knew it!”

“Let’s just go,” I muttered. The longer we were in the gas station bathroom, the more strongly I’d consider just calling this whole thing off. 

“Not yet,” she said. She grabbed the pack of pull-ups and pulled out another one. Holding it out with an expectant expression, she explained herself when I glanced back in confusion.

Your dare was to put on pull-ups, Annie. As in, more than one.”

Part Five

Unbelievable.

As if one pull-up wasn’t enough. Ever the one to push her luck, Kate seemed intent on doubling up the bulky underwear that I’d be wearing for the rest of the drive. I knew exactly what she was doing, and yet it was working anyway. Now that I was already wearing one pull-up, I was stuck with the choice of either putting on another one or calling this off and getting nothing for my troubles.

At this point, I was in too deep. What’s an extra layer? Either way, the underwear is embarrassing. It’s not like a second was going to make a difference in that regard.

“Fine.” Not wanting to argue this time around, especially since every minute wasted was going to require some bullshit explanation to our parents who were no doubt impatiently waiting in the car, I just pulled out a second pair from the pack.

Kate just gave me a warm smile. “What a good little sister!”

I just gave her a look, then got to work putting on the second pull-up. Like usual, there wasn’t any point trying to get on her case. If I snapped that I was the older sister, or demanded that she not call me that, it would only enable her. I’d also have to deal with her roundabout logic about how my size somehow makes me younger, or maybe just her classic claim that she was only teasing while telling me to ‘stop freaking out over nothing.’

The second pair of pull-ups slid up my legs just as easily as the first, until they reached the padded underwear already on me. Blushing as I dealt with the bulky resistance, it took a good amount of tugging and squirming to work the double pull-ups into place. It was like trying to put on jeans that were fresh out of the dryer, only worse due to my hands being under my skirt and my sister watching with an amused giggle or two.

I managed to get them fully on, but it was tight. And, worse than the padding that was now so snugly wrapped around me, the bulk between my thighs was more noticeable. I couldn’t fully close my legs. Not the end of the world with a long skirt, but definitely not a sensation I was used to after exclusively wearing mature underwear for so many years.

“Took you long enough, Annie,” Kate said, “Now let’s go. You’re making all of us late.” She tossed the rest of the pull-ups into her purse, ‘just in case,’ then opened the bathroom door for me.

It was now or never. I was either about to walk out into public while wearing pretty much the most embarrassing underwear imaginable, or I was going to panic and call this whole thing off.

Against my more mature instincts, I left the safety of the bathroom in the pink pull-ups Kate dared me to put on for the drive. It was going to be worth it. Now that I had put them on, my younger sister already had new ammo to tease me with. A few more hours wouldn’t make a difference in that regard, so it was better to just suck it up and see this through so I could at least be called ‘Annelise’ for the weekend. Kate may be a brat, but she still kept her promises.

I was hoping to just get in the car and finish the drive as quickly as possible, but of course Kate volunteered us to clean out the trash in the back seat before we got on the road again. There wasn’t anything telling on her face, but I was pretty sure the goal was just to make me walk around in pull-ups for another few minutes. I waited impatiently as she shifted a few of the bags and moved things from here to there in the trunk, and eventually let her hand me a few things to throw away with her.

Just as we reached the bins around the corner, I felt Kate’s hands shifting the waistband of my skirt. “Oh, Annie! Make sure your pull-ups don’t poke out of your skirt,” she said. No boundaries, like usual.

I was about to correct her on my name, before remembering that I had agreed to let her keep calling me the immature nickname as long as this dare was happening. And, while I was tempted to push back on the possessive word yet again, the bigger issue at the moment was my personal space. “Kate, I can do it myself,” I said.

“It’s fine, sis. I’m almost done . . . Wait, Annie! Are you wetting yourself??” Kate gasped.

I barely registered the words as I felt Kate’s fingers slip between my skin and the waistband of the pull-ups. Both my skirt and underwear were swiftly pulled away from my body, and I suddenly felt cold liquid running down my ass less than a second later.

It was like nothing I had ever experienced. The cold drink flowed down my crack and pooled at the base of my ass, but it didn’t continue its journey down my legs. Instead, the innermost pull-up absorbed the liquid and the crinkly material clung to my skin. “Kate!” I exclaimed. Her hand slipped away as quickly as it had arrived, but the damage was done. I spun around to see my sister smirking with her yellow gatorade bottle half empty. “What the actual fuck, Kate?! That isn’t funny!”

Enough was enough. This wasn’t worth the deal; I couldn’t just let Kate push this dare further and further. No way in hell was I about to wear wet pull-ups for a multi-hour drive. Ugh, I was just going to have to strip and wash the sticky drink off myself, and then go commando for the rest of the ride. Going back to the car for my regular underwear first was going to waste more time, and then Kate would have the chance to blame me for our lateness.

“No way, little sis.” Kate took a sideways step to block me from making any progress forward. “Go get in the car, or I tell our parents that you wet your pull-ups.”

Part Six

“Excuse me?” 

Kate did not just say that.

“You know I can be convincing, Annie,” she said, with a wink, “And wet, yellow pull-ups will look pretty bad. Do you really think they’ll believe it’s from my drink?”

“No one will believe you, Kate!” I exclaimed. With a roll of my eyes, and an awkward shift of my legs from having to deal with the innermost pull-up clinging to me in a number of places as the Gatorade settled, “I’m nineteen.”

“Most of the time, you look twelve. And I already put the rest of the pull-ups in your duffel bag. You clearly need them 24/7.” Kate’s smirk slowly transformed into a pouting face. “Annie’s been having some issues making it to the bathroom lately. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but she swore me to secrecy before she left for college . . .”

I couldn’t help but drop my jaw for a second; my lips parted in surprise as I took in Kate’s words. She was going to claim I had been wearing pull-ups for almost a year now?? The ‘little sister’ jokes were one thing, but this was crossing a line. Yet I couldn’t help but feel a bit stuck in her story, now that I was realizing that she must have stashed the pull-ups in my bag when she was moving things around in the back seat. 

Kate was too good at playing the perfect angel, and I was now wearing wet pull-ups. Or ‘wet, yellow pull-ups,’ in her words. Thanks to my sister’s superior acting, even dry underwear might have been difficult to talk my way out of. But this? It was genius, in a way. Infuriating, and rude, and incredibly frustrating, but annoyingly clever nonetheless. How on earth was I going to be taken seriously at my word when the bulky underwear was wet? Short of convincing my parents to get close and smell the yellowed pull-ups, they would believe Kate instead.

‘I could run,’ I thought to myself. It was tempting. But Kate might trip me, or grab me, or shout to our parents the moment I tried anything. Plus running with so much padding between my thighs didn’t seem like it would go over well. No. It wasn’t worth it. Once more, I decided to play along. “What do you want?” I asked, glaring at my younger sister. 

“Even yourself out first, Annie!” Kate grinned. She held out the half emptied bottle of Gatorade to me, “Pour some in the front.”

I just snatched the drink without a word. Constant glaring, now. I couldn’t believe I let myself get tricked like this! Put on pull-ups? Why on earth had I caved? The incessant nickname would have been better than this. I braced myself for another wave of cold, and pulled the pull-ups away from my frontside. Before I could talk myself out of it, I poured a few drops, wincing as the cool liquid flowed over my most private area. The previously dry patches of the underwear began to cling to my skin as well.

“Happy . . . ?” I muttered.

“ALL of it, Annie!”

Letting out another annoyed sigh, I tilted the bottle up and let the rest of the cold Gatorade trickle into the pull-ups. Better to just get it over with, rather than putting up a fight. By the time the bottle was empty, the innermost layer wasn’t just wet; it was soaked. I shivered when I let go of the pull-ups’ waistband and the cold front side stuck to me as well. “Bitch,” I huffed, chucking the empty plastic bottle at Kate.

“Language, sis. And don’t litter,” she said, after stepping aside to avoid being hit, “Pick that up, and recycle it.”

I wanted to scream. She was echoing a phrase or two that I had used over the years as the older sister, and once again in a way where she was ‘right.’ Proper girls don’t swear, littering is bad, and you’re supposed to recycle rather than throwing everything into the garbage. All of that was true, except that it wasn’t supposed to be delivered in such a patronizing way by my younger sister.

While I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, it also wasn’t in me to leave trash on the ground. With an annoyed huff, I retrieved the empty bottle. The soaked pull-ups shifted all around me as I bent over, and I could feel a blush coming on as I stood back up. “Kate, I’m going to change,” I said. This was already so uncomfortable, not to mention embarrassing. As much as I hated the idea of going back on our deal after doing so much, I was finally figuring out that none of this was worth it. 

“No, Annie,” Kate said, “What if you have another accident? We’ll have to keep you in those until the next rest stop, just in case.”

“Kate, you’re not listening!” I groaned. 

“No, you aren’t listening, Annie. Are you saying there’s a zero percent chance you’ll wet yourself in the car?”

Your average girl would probably say ‘no.’ But, as a math major, I immediately hesitated at my sister’s question. I should have known better. Letting it be a rhetorical question would have been so easy, but the numbers girl inside of me knew that there’s always the smallest chance of just about anything happening. Obviously, I wasn’t going to wet myself, but I also couldn’t claim that it was impossible.

I had no idea what to say, but apparently my silence was enough. “Exactly,” Kate said. She took my hand and gave a small tug to get me to start walking with her. “Keep your pull-ups on, Annie.”

They’re not- they’re not mine . . .

But I couldn’t even manage that much. Instead, I reluctantly let my younger sister take me back to the car. If I couldn’t think of something to combat her logic quickly, I was going to be sitting in wet pull-ups for the rest of the drive.

Part Seven

Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough.

Step by step, Kate walked me all the way back to the car. The soaked underwear didn’t help my mental state, I was constantly distracted by the way the snug pull-ups somehow managed to both cling to me and slightly sag all at the same time. Each step made me cringe in awkwardness, and made it that much more difficult to find the words to change Kate’s mind about this excessive prank. 

Rather than thinking of anything to say, however, the only resistance I could muster was yanking my hand out of hers as we approached the car. But it was too late. “We’re ready!” Kate exclaimed as she pulled open the car door. “Sorry that took so long. Annie had a little accident that held us up.”

I could immediately feel the heat rushing to my face at her offhand comment. Like usual, she was blaming me. The ‘innocent younger sister’ act worked all the time, but this was different. There was an embarrassing double meaning in her words. Our parents would obviously hear it as something else, but Kate and I knew exactly what she really meant.

“It’s fine,” our mother said, “Just get in. We’re behind schedule.”

With those words, my fate was sealed. 

Amidst her haste to get back on the road, our mother didn’t seem too concerned with whatever ‘accident’ Kate was talking about. Aside from my little blush, I probably looked normal. That was the point about this little dare, as no one was supposed to know what I changed into underneath. But it also didn’t offer me many options for delaying our departure from the rest stop. Not only would cleaning sticky Gatorade off my private areas take forever, but now Kate had the option to follow through on her threat and rat me out if I tried anything.

Knowing Kate, she could probably make them believe her. Not only was she a clever little actress, but wearing soaked pull-ups would easily confirm her story. “Go on, Annie,” Kate said. She gave me a serious look while gesturing to the open car door.

Annie. As if my current underwear situation wasn’t bad enough, I’d have to suffer through that nickname until I could steal away to a bathroom at our cousins’ house and change back to my regular underwear. 

Without a word, I shot her a glare and got into the car. 

Thankfully, my skirt was long enough that I wasn’t nervous about my movements giving away what I was already sacrificing so much to keep secret. However, the faint crinkling and personal knowledge of what I was wearing was still enough to keep me on edge as I climbed into the back seat of the minivan. It was my preferred spot for road trips, as I usually got some solitude thanks to the distance. I don’t mind socializing with my family, but road trips admittedly make me impatient and a little moody. I’d rather kill time with my phone.

I definitely wasn’t ready for what it was going to be like to sit in the double pull-ups. It was like landing on a cold sponge; all the drink that had sagged down during my walk earlier had slowly soaked into the thick padding. I sharply inhaled from the feeling, trying my best to settle on the wet pillow that was now my underwear. My thighs still couldn’t close completely thanks to the bulk between my legs, so I made sure to adjust my skirt to avoid even the slightest risk of one of our parents looking back and glimpsing the girly pull-ups.

Surprise, surprise, Kate had more in store for me. Rather than sitting in one of the more spacious middle seats like she did for the first leg of the trip, she climbed into the back with me. “I thought you might want some company,” she said. Her words were for our parents, but her little smirk was just for me.

“Thanks,” I muttered. I immediately glanced away to avoid staring right at her cleavage as she kept her body slightly bent as she made her way between the middle seats. It really wasn’t fair. Same red hair, same skin tone, but literally all the height and curves in the family. 

“By the way, you look so cute today!” Before finding her seat, Kate reached out and pinched one of my cheeks. Lowering her voice so our parents couldn’t hear, she added, “Your blush matches your pull-ups.” The last word was extra hushed. At least she was following through on her end of the deal.

Still, I couldn’t help but worry about the chance of her being overheard. “Kate, sit down.” I quickly swatted her hand off my face, still averting my gaze as much as possible while her boobs were more or less right in my face. It was less about jealousy, and way more about the fact that she was my sister. The last thing I wanted to see up close was her cleavage in a tight tank top. Just to hurry her up, I echoed what our mother said, loudly enough for the parents to hear. “We’re behind schedule.”

Kate just rolled her eyes. “So serious, little sis. You really need to loosen up.” Pinching down a little harder on my cheek, she finally let go and plopped down across from me in the back. “We’re ready!” she said.

I avoided the temptation to rub my cheek, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. 

Just like that, we were pulling out of the rest stop and back onto the highway. The blue-roofed building left my view in a matter of seconds, as did any possible chance of calling this whole thing off. I was going to be stuck in wet pull-ups for hours. 

Turning to me with her lips pursed in a triumphant smile, no doubt thinking the same thing, Kate got right to business. She wouldn’t have joined me in the back for no reason, after all. 

“Hey, Annie,” she said, “Can I give you a make-over?”

Part Eight

Kate hadn’t given me a make-over in years.

We used to do each others’ hair and make-up all the time when we were younger, before we started drifting apart in our teenage years. I was all academics and extracurriculars. Kate was the total opposite. Naturally, we were both content to do our own thing when we had separate rooms, reverse personalities, and typical teenage angst on top of all that. We didn’t fight or anything; it was easy to coexist, and not all sisters end up close.

But then her stupid growth spurt broke the pattern. Little by little, Kate found ways to have fun at my expense. This road trip included. I should have known that putting on those pull-ups was a terrible idea. My biggest concern, however, was keeping them a secret. I had no idea that she would pull a stunt like that with her drink. And, now that my guard was up, of course I didn’t trust her with my hair or my face. Especially not with the amused smile plastered on her face.

“No, thanks,” I said. 

Did she have to come back here? Sitting in soaked pull-ups was bad enough. The least Kate could do was give me a little peace and quiet for the rest of the drive. Or not.

Kate pouted at my reply, ever the chameleon, and said, “Please, Annie? We haven’t done that in, like, forever! This is supposed to be a family trip, isn’t it? And you’re just glued to your phone.”

As if she wasn’t texting and watching videos for the entire first leg of the drive too. But she’s the golden child and perfect angel, despite me being the one with better grades and currently attending a prestigious university. And her reply was loud enough to carry over the music and up to the front seats. “Kate is right,” our mother said. She glanced over her shoulder in the passenger seat. I immediately fidgeted with my skirt, tugging it a little farther over my thighs. “Might as well spend some time with your sister while you can. She missed you a lot this last year!”

Sure, she did. Or she pouted about it to earn some pity points while I was away.

But I couldn’t accuse her of that. Or of anything, for that matter. Aside from her best friend, I’m probably the only other person who knows my sister well enough to see through her little act. Our mother wouldn’t believe me in the slightest if I suggested that Kate was doing anything but trying to bond with her sister. And, as usual, subtly making me look bad in the process.

Seeing through the act didn’t necessarily prepare me to handle it. “I missed her too,” I said, lying. Like most undergrad first-years, the freedom of living away from home for the first time in eighteen years outweighed the occasional emotion that came from the distance. Besides, there were plenty of other ways that Kate and I could ‘bond’ without her messing up my ensemble. “But I already did my make-up today. And my hair,” I added, just in case. 

“So?” Kate replied, “You’d look so much cuter if you let me braid it. And you could use a touch-up here and there too.” Vaguely gesturing to my face, she kept up the innocent smile while our mother was still involved in the conversation. When I didn’t reply right away, Kate huffed and frowned. “See? She never wants to do anything fun.” 

“Come on, Annelise,” our mother said, “What’s the harm?”

She took Kate’s side. Shocker. 

The harm is that undoing a braid isn’t as simple as just taking off the hair tie. My long red hair can be a mess sometimes, which is why I have a morning routine to make sure it’s tangle-free to start the day. Even if Kate just stuck with the simple three strand braid, there was a good chance I’d be stuck wearing it until I had the chance to shower.

If I answered that way, then I’d essentially be saying ‘I don’t plan on keeping the braid Kate gives me.’ Just two weeks after getting home from my first year at college, I was stuck in the same trap as I often found myself in during my younger teenage years whenever our parents were dragged into things. Damned if I do; damned if I don’t. Let Kate ruin my pretty hairstyle before we visit our cousins for the first time in nearly a decade, or make myself look bad in front of our parents by refusing something that was objectively simple and ‘harmless.’

I hated to give an inch, but it was better than bluntly saying ‘no.’ So, against my better judgment, I asked, “What kind of braid?” It’s not like I’m opposed to putting my hair up. But Kate said ‘cute,’ an adjective I detest for obvious reasons. That, paired with my current guarded mindset, and I’d prefer to know what my sister had in mind before committing to anything.

Her answer was so classic, I really should have seen it coming. “Annie, that would ruin the surprise!” Kate said, “Don’t worry, you’ll love it. You trust me, right?”

Nope. Not in the slightest. “Of course I do. I just don’t like surprises.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything. Maybe you’ll like surprises after this, and it will all be thanks to your amazing little sister.”

“Or you could just tell me.” 

It was a losing battle, as usual. Our mother’s chuckle at Kate’s latest overconfident reply showed that she was more on my sister’s side than mine. I was still resisting, but I could already see the outcome: I was going to let Kate style my hair for me, because I would rather cave than look like the difficult, whining teenager I used to be framed as when Kate cleverly pushed enough of my buttons. 

Kate knew it, too. “Nope, that’s no fun,” she giggled, “Go on, Annie, turn around. It’s time for your make-over!”

Part Nine

A make-over. From my sister.

I knew it was a terrible idea, but I had already agreed. At least, agreed enough for Kate to interpret the decision as fully made. Just like with the pull-ups. 

And, with our mother now involved in the conversation, I felt even more pressure to just go along with it. As for convincing myself, I justified things with the fact that I could always demand a different braid if I hated the first one, or do a simple three-strand myself. My fate was sealed in terms of being unable to wear my hair down for the rest of the day, but at least there was still room to overrule Kate’s choice.

At this point, any annoyed huff or comment would just make me look bad. I was supposed to be the mature college girl. So, without dignifying Kate’s presumptuous instruction with a response, I merely shifted in my seat and turned to look out the window. The simple movement was enough to remind me about the wet pull-ups; the thick, wet sponge underneath my ass and between my thighs was bad enough when I was sitting still, but moving around just made it worse. Biting my lip to avoid making an awkward sound in response to the sensation, I merely tried my best to sit still and check out the surroundings as we drove down the freeway.

Kate was quick to unbuckle and scoot over to the middle seat. Did she get in trouble for being unsafe? Not at all. Maybe she had waited until our mother had returned to whatever she had been doing in the front seat, or maybe Kate just assumed she could get away with it either way. Regardless, it didn’t take long for her to begin running her fingers through my hair. 

“Maybe I should grow my hair out like this,” Kate said. She had rocked shoulder length hair for the longest time, while I preferred keeping mine longer. Brushing through my red locks over and over, I finally flinched when she hit a small tangle at some point. Of course, she hushed me immediately. “Relax, Annie. I know what I’m doing.”

“Just- be careful,” I muttered. Remembering our ‘deal,’ there wasn’t anything I could say about the nickname like I normally might.

My response only earned me a teasing tug on a few strands of hair that were very much not tangled. This time, I knew she was trying to bait me with her physical response to my words. I still flinched from the unpleasant feeling on my scalp, but otherwise remained quiet. A few seconds later, when she finally seemed satisfied with the straightness of my hair that was literally thanks to how much time I spend making sure it’s that way every morning, she began separating out a few strands to braid. 

At first, I had no clue what she was doing. Without a mirror, I could only work with how things felt. Rather than getting to work right away, Kate merely used my shoulders and her fingers to keep separate a few sections out on either side. Nothing familiar yet, though I also wasn’t particularly versed in this kind of hair styling. I still didn’t trust her very much after that stunt she pulled earlier, but I felt committed at this point. 

Finally, she actually started working on my hair. I felt the familiar pressure of a tight braid on the left side of my head, and once again resisted the urge to complain about it. Kate’s response was so predictable, it wasn’t worth trying to start an argument. Braids are supposed to be tight; otherwise, they won’t hold. Or something like that. One of those things that was objectively true on the surface, but easy to overdo if your older sister was the cure to your boredom on a road trip.

It was only after Kate started working on my right side that I realized what she was doing. “Kate, stop!” I quickly exclaimed. Pigtails?! Unless I was grossly mistaken, that’s what it felt like. I recognized the feeling from when I wore them many, many years ago. It was a cute style when I was a kid, and certainly lined up with that very same adjective that my sister used a minute ago. Except, as a girl who always strives to offset her physical shortcomings, I was very much against something like this. “Do something else with my hair, okay?”

“Annie, we’ve been over this,” Kate sighed. Not pausing her braiding process in the slightest, she said, “I know what I’m doing, and you need to relax.”

“But-”

“No ‘but’s,’ little sis. Trust me, this is going to be a super cute look for you! Now hold still, okay?”

I did as I was told, but only because any further arguments or attempts to squirm away would be fruitless. At this point, I was buckled in, and stuck between my sister and the window. It’s not like there was anywhere to go, and I might end up hurting my own hair if I did something that went against the way Kate was pulling. So, for the moment, I begrudgingly accepted the childish hairstyle I was getting. Going back to my original plan, I’d just have to undo things after it was all said and done.
A minute later, I felt the same tightness on my right side as Kate mirrored the red pigtail that was already done. After tying it off, she gave both braids a playful tug. “All done, Annie! Now, it’s time for your make-up.”

As if. This make-over was yet another bad idea that I let myself get talked into, and there was no way I’d allow Kate to ruin my mature make-up too. I turned to look at her, ready to say as much, but I was not at all prepared for what came next.

Part Ten

With no warning whatsoever, Kate’s hand starfished squarely over my face.

Not just her bare palm and fingers, either. It could only be a make-up wipe she was using, as I immediately recognized the texture and the dampness. Before I could flinch or slap her hand away, she gave a quick but firm circular wipe all the way around my face. Forehead, cheek, lips, and other cheek. I could only attempt to sputter out a protest in response, as my lips kept getting nudged and then squarely covered by the wet wipe. 

I thought that would be the end of it, but then she began focusing on the cheek she ended up at. She managed to get a few rough scrubs in before I managed to shove her hand away while wincing at how aggressively she was wiping at my face. “KATE.” I shot a death glare at her, not even wanting to imagine how the incomplete removal made my face look. 

The bigger problem was the fact that there was a reason I took so long with my routine in the morning. Along with my short stature and all around lack of curves, there was a third feature I had that contributed to my youthful appearance–my freckles. Pair that with red hair, and I could be mistaken for a tween if my outfit was too casual. It used to happen all the time at restaurants and the movies before I made a more conscious effort in the morning to mitigate those things I was most self conscious about. While my outfit was still intact, mostly, Kate had just undone my perfect hair and make-up in a matter of minutes. I’d have to remove the rest of my make-up just to not look ridiculous after she started the process, and my personal things were in a duffel bag at the bottom of the trunk.

“What?” she asked, playing innocent save for the way her lips were pursed in a small smile. I couldn’t tell if the act was on the off chance our parents heard my exclamation over the radio now playing through the front speakers, or just to piss me off. Both, I suppose. 

“You know what.” I bluntly replied. She knew full well how much I hated my freckles. Her skin was fairly clear in comparison, save for a handful of her own freckles that worked a lot better with her overall image than they did with mine. Yet another thing to be jealous about, but it definitely paled in comparison to our general size difference.

Kate stayed right next to me in my personal space, curiously tilting her head at my response. It had only dawned on me that she had unbuckled in order to braid my hair. If I was sitting in the car without my seat belt on like that, she would almost certainly tattle on me. Not in the childish way, like yelling it out if we were still kids, but more by feigning worry about my safety; maybe idle speculation about whether or not this is a habit of mine. I had made it through a year of undergrad, yet my sister could still make me nervous in terms of how bad she could make me look to our parents when she wanted to.

Her position also made me feel a little trapped. With the window to my left and Kate to my right, it’s not like I had anywhere to go while the car was traveling down the freeway. “You said I could give you a make-over, Annie,” she said. Technically, true, but I had only ‘agreed’ because I felt pressured to. 

Also, did I? Looking back, I’m pretty sure she said I needed a touch-up or something. Not totally removing the make-up that I always work so hard on in the morning in order to hide my freckles. But the damage was done. Even without a mirror nearby, I knew there wasn’t an easy way to undo what my sister’s partial removal had messed up. Hopefully Kate had enough supplies tucked in her backpack under the seat; otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to redo my make-up until I had access to my own belongings. “Just-” I began, suppressing the urge to say something rude, “Give me the wipe. I can do it myself.”

“Nope. Hold still, and close your eyes,” Kate said, with a little smirk, “Trust me, little sis. It’ll be a lot easier if you let me take care of it.”

My eyes immediately narrowed. I hated ‘little sis’ almost more than I hated ‘Annie.’ The patronizing nickname was one thing, but the other phrase actually made the occasional person instantly believe that I was the younger sister. Usually, just a salesgirl at the mall, or a friend of a friend; nothing that would follow me in terms of embarrassment, but still frustrating whenever it happened.

If I wasn’t relying on whatever make-up Kate had lying around, my response would have been a lot more harsh. She was getting way too old to still be pulling shit like this. “Kate, I don’t need your help.”

“Well, duh. You’re a big girl, sometimes. But don’t you want to bond as sisters?”

Sometimes? And there were definitely better phrases than ‘big girl’ to describe what I was, but she was clearly going for the pull-up reference. “Kate, I’m being serious.”

“I’m being serious, too,” she said, with a tiny shrug, “Now, close your eyes.”

This wasn’t getting us anywhere. As usual, I found myself caving and subjecting myself to my younger sister’s games. Either way, my make-up had to be removed. As annoying as it was to let Kate get her way, it was starting to feel easier than bickering around it for another five minutes. 

She didn’t hesitate at all. 

The moment I gave in, the wet wipe was all over my face. Her movements were a little bit erratic, making me flinch every now and then as she firmly rubbed my lips, circled my eyes, and roughly scrubbed at my cheeks all over again.

And, all the while, I had to hear that quiet giggle every time I reacted.

Part Eleven

My morning beauty routine took, on average, an hour or so. 

A thorough shower, styling my hair to perfection, getting my make-up just right, and then finding a great outfit for the day. Granted, today’s combo was just a simple skirt and tank top. I didn’t need to try as hard around family. However, I still wanted to look my age, and Kate managed to ruin an hour’s work in a matter of minutes. My hair was tightly braided into pigtails, and now my freckles were a lot more prominent than they were when my make-up masked most of them and diminished the others. 

Little by little, she was stripping away my mature enhancements. Obviously, on purpose. Since I was wearing pull-ups that were soaked by her Gatorade, Kate clearly thought it was amusing to make me appear more like the kind of girl who needed such embarrassing underwear. Childish freckles, juvenile hair, and a frustrating nickname I was about to be reminded of all over again. 

“Annie, you look so CUTE.” Kate said. Her tone was friendly, but her lips were slightly curled upward as she scooted back over to her side and casually dropped the used make-up wipe onto the car’s floor. She was always a little messy and careless, in that ‘I’ll deal with it later’ kind of way. 

Scowling, I replied, “Now, make-up?” 

“Don’t be silly. We’re going to stick with a more natural look today. You’re fine just how you are, sis!”

“No. Kate, you said-”

“I said I’d give you a make-over. And, voila! All done. Just try it out for a while, okay?”

No. No way. I’m well aware of how youthful I look without make-up, because I see myself in the mirror every morning. It’s bad enough with wet hair after a shower. With pigtails? I almost didn’t want to look at the damage, but I couldn’t help it. Curiosity, and all. “Kate, either give me a new braid or I’m doing one myself.” While demanding the redo, I pulled my phone out of my purse to see just how awful the current style was. 

Before I could check myself out in selfie mode, however, my phone was plucked right out of my hands. Since I didn’t expect anything like that, my grip hadn’t been particularly tight. “Ah, ah, ah. This is a family trip, Annie. No cell phones!”

“Hey!” I exclaimed. She did not just do that! My phone is personal, which is true of most girls, and seeing it in my sister’s hand was not a pleasant image. “Kate, give it back.” I reflexively reached to take it out of her hands, but got caught halfway on the seat belt from my jerky movement.

“No. You’re acting like a brat, Annie.” Like it was any old trinket, she dropped my phone into her purse. “I’ll give it back once you’ve earned it.”

“KATE.” This was over the line. I was in fucking college, and she had barely graduated high school. Our size difference didn’t give her the right to be so overtly patronizing, especially not with my personal possessions in the mix. If I had to give her a lecture as her older sister, so be it. “You can’t-”

This time, it was our mother who interjected. Again. “Annelise. Please keep your voice down.” She had turned around to look at the two of us, and Kate was once again sitting across from me without a hint of a smile on her face. “Is there a problem?”

“Kate-”

“I took her phone,” Kate said. She was confessing? That wasn’t her style. Normally she just acted all coy and innocent about everything. Once again, my time away at college left me unprepared for the way my younger sister developed her manipulative games. “She’s just been on it for, like, the whole drive! Isn’t this supposed to be a family trip?”

Once again, she was echoing our parents’ phrase from over the years. Because apparently, a family trip means even the downtime shouldn’t be spent reading, or on screens, or whatever it is when suddenly we’re expected to be paying attention with no warning. And, just like before, Kate was blaming me for being on my phone too much when she was equally as guilty of doing the exact same thing.

And, as always, she got favorable treatment by playing her cards just right. “Annelise, why don’t you let your sister hold onto your phone for a little while? It’s fine as long as she doesn’t use it, right?”

No, it was NOT fine. While she was at least touching on the point that my phone should only ever be in my hands, it didn’t change the fact that Kate was going to be allowed to keep it. “No. That’s not fair.” I replied. The moment the words passed through my lips, I could feel a light blush appear on my cheeks. Full of regret at using the same response I used when I was a teenager, I instantly tried to course correct. “I mean-”

“Life’s not fair, sis,” Kate said, “Besides, it’s not a big deal. Just pretend that it’s in your backpack or something.”

“That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“Well, tough. It’s not really your call, is it?”

“Girls,” our mother said, “Be nice.”

“Sorry, Annelise,” Kate said. Ever the little actress, she jumped at the chance to feign maturity about this whole thing. “I’ll give your phone back soon, okay? Let’s just spend a little more time together first.”

Great. If it was just the two of us, I could give her a piece of my mind. But, with our parents listening, I was trapped. Playing nice meant letting Kate have my phone. Arguing would just make me look worse. I barely even had a choice. “Fine,” I muttered, still bitter about this whole thing. 

Just like that, we were left alone again. 

Lesson learned. The radio doesn’t tune out everything. We can carry a conversation in the back seat just fine without being overhead, until one of us raises our voices. So, moving forward, I would have to avoid snapping at Kate. If it happened again, it would be a pattern, and she would once again make me look like the less mature sister. Unbelievable. I was so ready to get back to school, or perhaps for her to head off to college and grow up a little more. 

“So, Annie,” Kate said. Ignoring my narrowed eyes at the continued use of the nickname, she leaned forward to speak a little more quietly, “If you do something fun for me, I’ll give your phone back and leave you alone for the rest of the drive.”

“Oh?” I asked. At this point, I didn’t trust her in the slightest. The rest stop dare led to the soaked padding between my legs, and agreeing to a make-over led to my entire image being messed up. No matter what she was offering in exchange for my phone, I was pretty sure it would be worse than the device being stashed in her purse. And I was right. 

With a tiny glance towards the front seat to make sure no one was listening, Kate lowered her voice even more. “You should use your pull-ups.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know. For what they’re designed for.”

She couldn’t possibly be serious. But, when her facial expression didn’t change, I just rolled my eyes and shot back, “Umm, no. How about you give me my phone because it’s fucking mine?”

“Language, Annie. And why not? They’re already wet from your first accident.”

“That wasn’t an accident.”

“So, you did it on purpose?”

I shot her another glare, but couldn’t help but blush again at the insinuation. We were both there, and yet she was trying to change the story? Bullshit. “You know what I mean, Kate. That was your fault. Not mine.” 

“Mm hmm. Says the one in wet diapers,” she winked.

“They’re pull-ups,” I hissed back. This time, it was my turn to glance up front to make sure no one overhead what she just said. If she ratted me out after I kept them on and got in the car, I was going to be furious. But also, I was still nervous about what would happen if she did. Kate was a lot more manipulative than I was, and my current underwear situation would look pretty bad.

And she knew it. Fully grinning at my nervous glance, she replied, “Wet pull-ups. Because that makes it so much better?”

“Just drop it, Kate.”

“Or what?”

I had no idea. Being older may have given me leverage back in our tween years and earlier, but not now. We were both technically adults, and I had nothing on her any more.

“That’s what I thought.” Her grin faded into more of a smirk as she looked me over. Pigtails and freckles, courtesy of her. And babyish underwear that was only hidden because of how carefully I was seated. “So, Annie. Let’s talk.” 

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