"Girls, I have something very important to talk to you about," Helen said, coming into the living room with Jake. Her daughters, three-year-old Quinn and four-year-old Daria, looked at her in mild alarm.
"I didn't do it!" Quinn yelped, mostly out of habit.
"Yes, she did," Daria said blandly, also out of habit.
"No one did anything wrong," Helen replied firmly. Smiling, she continued, "In fact, I have very good news to share!"
"The last time you said that, Quinn was born," Daria grumbled.
Ignoring the remark, Helen went on. "I got a job at a local law firm called Murray and Chandler. Part time," she added, then under her breath muttered, "For now."
"Ugh, so we have to sit around some boring old law firm all day?" Quinn whined.
"No, you girls will stay home while your father and I are at work," Helen explained.
"By ourselves?" Quinn shrieked, looking equal parts horrified and fascinated by the idea.
"Dibs on the TV," Daria quickly put in.
"You won't be home alone," Jake said reassuringly.
"You're going to have a baby-sitter," Helen added.
If anything, Quinn looked even more upset by this news. "A baby-sitter?" she cried, in the same tone one might use to say "serial killer."
"Don't worry," Jake said, sounding very worried himself. "Everything's going to be great. You'll have lots of fun!"
Daria and Quinn just stared at their parents with dismay.
The dismay turned to disgust the day the baby-sitter first arrived to watch them. She was at least seventy years old, and to Quinn--who saw anyone over twelve to be decrepit--she looked like death itself. Daria was slightly less damning in her initial opinion, but still greeted the baby-sitter with a contemptuous glare.
"This is Mrs. Higginson," Helen told her daughters as she tucked a few last-minute things into her briefcase.
"You can call me Beatrice," the woman told them creakily, smiling at them in the condescending way that set both girls entirely on edge. She approached them slowly, as she walked with a cane.
"Mommy," Quinn whined, looking suspiciously at Beatrice out of the corner of her eyes, "Do you hafta go?"
"Yes, sweetheart, but I'll be back before you know it." Helen snapped her briefcase shut and kissed her daughters before heading out the door.
Daria and Quinn turned their faces toward the baby-sitter, who smiled sweetly at them. "Aren't you just the most charismatic little girl I've ever seen?" she cooed over Quinn.
"What's that mean?" Quinn asked Daria in a whisper.
"Ugly," Daria whispered back, jealous but unwilling to admit it to herself or anyone else.
"Hey!"
Beatrice, who hadn't heard the exchange, turned to Daria next. "I see you have a book there. Can you read all by yourself?"
Daria, hugging Alice's adventures in Wonderland protectively close as though expecting the baby-sitter to snatch it away, nodded once.
"How lovely!" Beatrice said, beaming excitedly at her.
Daria, assuming that she was being condescending, turned sharply away and curled up on a nearby armchair to resume her reading. She was surprised when Quinn squeezed in next to her just a few seconds later. "What do you want?" she demanded.
Quinn watched as Beatrice went humming into the kitchen to tidy up the breakfast dishes. "I don't like her."
Surprised by the rare agreement, Daria set aside her book. "I don't, either."
"'Kay. What're we gonna do?"
"Do? About what?"
"About the baby-sitter," Quinn replied slowly, the same way Daria talked to her when she was trying to explain something obvious. "How're we gonna get rid of her?"
Daria stared at her sister. "You want to kill the baby-sitter?"
"Jeez, no!" Quinn sounded more exasperated than horrified. "We just hafta scare her off. So what's the plan?"
"This is your idea," Daria reminded her, intrigued in spite of her doubts. "You tell me."
Quinn thought for a few minutes, tapping her heels against the chair. "Umm...ooooh! I know!" She hopped down and scampered toward her room. "Be right back!" She came back a minute or so later clutching a rubber snake in one hand and a large plastic spider in the other. "We'll use these!"
Daria was beginning to regret getting drawn into whatever insanity her sister was involved in. "Use them to do what?"
"Duh," Quinn said, waggling both creatures for effect. "We'll stick them in her purse or something and scare her so bad she'll never want to come back!"
"You think she'll be frightened by a couple of toys?"
Quinn scowled. "They scare me," she said defensively.
"So does the vacuum cleaner," Daria pointed out.
"Look, do you want this baby-sitter gone or not?"
Daria sighed. "Okay, fine. We'll try it."
Quinn cheered up immediately. "Great! You keep a lookout and I'll hide them in her bag." While Daria peeked into the kitchen to make sure Beatrice was still distracted, Quinn scampered over and stuffed the snake and spider inside the baby-sitter's purse. Then she scurried back over to her sister. "All done!" she announced in a stage whisper. "Also, she has gum in there. Isn't that cool? Think she'll share?"
"Whose side are you on?" Daria asked her, annoyed.
The girls waited eagerly all day for Beatrice to find the beasts lurking in her bag, but by the time Helen came home they still hadn't heard the long-awaited shrieks of terror.
"How was everything?" Helen asked, reaching for her checkbook.
"Just fine," Beatrice assured her, picking up her purse. "In fact, they were the quietest and attentive children I've ever baby-sat. They must be pure delights for you."
"Er...really?" Helen asked, pausing midway through writing a check to stare at Beatrice in confusion. "My girls?"
Beatrice chuckled and nodded cheerfully as she accepted the check from Helen. Daria and Quinn watched from the next room, each holding her breath as Beatrice opened her purse and....
Nothing. She put the check inside and closed the purse again, with no sign of horror or even surprise at anything unexpected. "Good-bye!" Beatrice called to them, waving with her free hand as she hobbled out of the house on her cane.
Daria pulled Quinn aside. "Are you sure you put them in there?" she demanded quietly.
"Yes! Maybe they fell out or something."
"I guess they could have shifted to the bottom and she didn't see them yet," Daria said.
"Maybe she'll find them later and she'll be so scared she won't come back!" Quinn suggested.
"Yeah, or maybe you just gave away two of your toys for no reason."
They both forgot about their prank until bedtime. Daria took off her glasses, set them on her nightstand, and climbed sleepily into bed. Just as she was stretching out to relax and wait for her parents to come tuck her in, her toes brushed against something...scaly. She slowly reached down to find out what it was, only to pull out a wiggling snake.
Her shriek was drowned out by an identical shriek from Quinn's room. Helen and Jake rushed upstairs, splitting off to see why each of their daughters was screaming like they were about to be murdered. Helen entered Daria's room just as Daria finally recognized the plastic snake Quinn had planted in Beatrice's bag. "Quinn!" she grumbled. To Helen she said, "It's okay. It's fake."
Quinn stormed into her room, followed by Jake. "Why did you do it?" she demanded, waving the plastic spider around. "I thought we agreed to--"
"Quinn." Daria glanced meaningfully at their parents, trying to give Quinn a silent reminder that their plan was supposed to be a secret.
"Uh, right. So why did you put this in my bed?"
"I didn't, but you put this in my bed," Daria accused, hurling the snake at Quinn.
"What? I did not!"
"Okay, girls," Helen said wearily, snatching up both toys. "Both of you back to bed."
Daria lay down and closed her eyes, wondering when her sister had become crafty enough to cover her tracks by planting one of the toys in her own bed. She fell asleep before she could come up with an alternative explanation.
The next morning Daria and Quinn put the previous day's prank behind them and began to prepare for the next attack. "We could wear sheets and pretend to be ghosts," Quinn suggested.
"Your idea is to make her die laughing?" Daria asked.
Quinn pouted. "It worked on Scooby Doo."
"Forget it. I'm taking over planning now."
"Well, come up with something quick," Quinn said. "She's gonna be here any minute."
Daria glanced at the clock on the wall and smiled. "I've got it." She began darting around the house, stopping at every clock to fiddle with it. She was just putting the finishing touches on the microwave clock when the doorbell rang. Beatrice stepped inside and Helen practically flew out the door less than a minute later, calling a few last-minute instructions over her shoulder on her way to the car.
"Hello, girls," Beatrice sang out, beaming at her charges. The charges glowered back.
"You're late," Daria told her accusingly, pointing at the clock.
"My goodness, you're right!" Beatrice gasped, taking in the altered time with wide eyes. "In fact, I'm so late that we appear to have missed snack time!" She clucked sadly. "Ah, well. Can't be helped." She sat down on the couch and pulled out some knitting.
Quinn dragged Daria into the next room. "Way to go," she grumbled. "Now I don't get my fruit snacks!"
"Don't worry," Daria told her. "I'm going to keep changing the time until she thinks she's gone crazy. Then she'll check herself into a mental institution and we'll never see her again!"
Throughout the day, Daria did just that--she put so much effort into periodically sneaking around and changing every clock that she failed to notice that Beatrice never once seemed to look at the time. It didn't take long for Daria and Quinn to lose track of time, either--especially Quinn, who hadn't learned to tell time in the first place.
Beatrice set aside her knitting and looked at her watch. Daria held back a groan at overlooking something so obvious. "Oh, it's almost lunchtime," Beatrice commented.
"What?!" Quinn shrieked. "I missed cartoons!" She hauled back and smacked Daria on the shoulder.
Daria rolled her eyes and began painstakingly resetting every clock to the correct time. "I'll come up with a better plan next time," she promised Quinn as the baby-sitter left later that day.
"You'd better." Quinn pouted, still furious at the loss of her beloved cartoons.
The next day, Daria told Quinn to keep Beatrice distracted in the living room. She could hear Quinn singing "I'm a Little Teapot" in repeat as she stood on a stepstool at the kitchen counter and painstakingly squeezed green food coloring into the milk jug.
"There," she told herself, putting everything away as Quinn launched into the twelfth encore. "Now we just have to wait until the baby-sitter gets thirsty."
But Beatrice never appeared to become thirsty. And when snack time rolled around, Daria and Quinn came to the table to find graham crackers and green milk waiting for them.
"Don't you want some?" Daria asked the baby-sitter.
"Oh, no thank you," Beatrice said with a distracted smile. "I'm lactose intolerant."
"Cactus what?" Quinn said, sitting down at the table. "What's that mean?"
"It means she doesn't drink milk," Daria said sulkily, taking a resentful nibble from her cracker.
Quinn peered dubiously at the green liquid in her glass. "I don't think I do anymore, either," she finally said.
Daria just chewed in angry silence.
"Jake, what happened to this milk?" Daria, sitting in the living room, looked up from her book. It was almost dinnertime, and Helen sounded furious.
Jake went into the kitchen to look. "Umm...is it expired?"
"I just bought it yesterday!"
He leaned in to stare at the green milk, concentrating like he was trying to do a calculus equation in his head. "Hm." At last his face cleared and he stood up. "I'll bet it's actually one of those spinach smoothies Willow and Coyote keep raving about."
"It was milk when I bought it, Jake." Helen's tone made it clear she was done talking to him about it. Louder she called, "Daria! Quinn!"
The girls trudged slowly into the kitchen, dreading what was to come.
"What is this?" Helen asked, thrusting the milk toward them accusingly.
"Milk?" Quinn replied.
"It's green," Helen said, raising an eyebrow. "Would either of you care to explain that?"
"Green is formed when you mix blue and yellow," Daria told her helpfully.
Helen sighed and slammed the milk back into the fridge. "I give up."
Daria and Quinn exchanged wary looks over their green-milk-covered cereal the next morning. "What are we going to try this time?" Quinn asked in a whisper.
"I don't know," Daria said, morose.
Quinn took another bite of breakfast and thought about it as she chewed. She stared at the refrigerator as though waiting for inspiration and, surprisingly, it did. "Ketchup!" she squeaked happily.
Daria stared at her. "Are you just saying random words to annoy me?" she asked. "Because it's working."
Quinn glanced around to make sure no one else was within hearing. "You remember that time I skinned my knee really bad and Daddy freaked out like, big time?"
Daria put down her spoon. "Go on."
Beatrice was sitting in the living room, reading a book and thinking about how quiet the house had been since she'd arrived an hour ago, when a piercing shriek brought her to her feet. She ambled toward the source of the sound as quickly as she could on her cane and found the girls in Quinn's room. Daria was standing next to Quinn, who was lying on the floor with red stains all over her clothes. A butter knife lay next to her, coated in a thick red liquid.
"She's dying," Daria said, trying to sound emotional but mostly just sounding mildly interested in the situation. "Someone stabbed her!"
Beatrice looked at Daria, then at the knife, and finally at Quinn. Then she let out an ear-shattering scream. "Put pressure on the wound," she instructed Daria in a panicky voice. "Now! Do it immediately!"
Startled, Daria knelt down and pushed on one of the red stains.
"Stay right there!" Beatrice instructed her, still in a shrill and frightened tone. "I have to go call 911!" The cane tapped out a fast-paced rhythm as she hurried out of the room.
Quinn opened her eyes. "It worked!" she bragged quietly. "She believed it!"
"Yeah." Daria pulled her hands back and stood up. "But if she calls an ambulance and they find out you're not really dying...."
Quinn gasped and sat up. "We could get in trouble!" She scrambled to her feet. "We gotta stop her!"
Daria smirked and picked up the knife. "Or we could turn the lie into the truth," she said teasingly.
Quinn didn't hear her, as she was already flying out of the room in search of the baby-sitter.
"Yes, that's right," Beatrice was saying into the phone. "There's been a horrible stabbing! Blood everywhere and it might even already be too late. Please send an ambulance right away!"
"Stop!" Quinn yelled. "I'm okay!"
"Oh, never mind. She's okay," Beatrice said cheerfully into the phone. "Children these days are much more resilient than I expected."
Daria trailed in after her sister, bracing herself for the obvious questions about what had just happened, but the baby-sitter simply hung up the phone and turned toward them with a smile. "Would either of you mind if I put on the radio? It's a little quiet in here for my taste."
Quinn and Daria just looked at each other, both surprised at her lack of curiosity yet relieved that there would be no punishment for their trick.
At least, not until laundry day, when the ketchup stains would be discovered.
The next day was Friday, and their last chance to drive away the baby-sitter until the following week. "Any brilliant plans this time, genius?" Daria asked her sister that morning after Helen had left and Beatrice had settled in once more.
"I came up with the last plan," Quinn protested. "It's your turn!"
"Getting rid of the baby-sitter was your idea in the first place!" Daria reminded her grumpily.
"But you're supposed to be the smart one, brain."
"Which makes you the dumb one, brat."
"Hey!" Quinn yelled, shaking her tiny fists at Daria. "You take that back!"
Daria wrinkled her nose. "We don't have time to get into a fight. We have to...oh!"
"What?" Quinn asked. "Do you have a plan?"
Daria gave her a tiny smile. "Yeah, I do."
Beatrice was sitting calmly on the couch when Daria and Quinn came barreling in. They sprawled in a heap at her feet, Daria pinning her little sister to the ground and trying to crush her face with her hand while Quinn flailed under her, trying to punch or kick her as best she could.
"Brain!" shouted Quinn.
"Brat!" Daria yelled back.
"Brain!"
"Brat!"
"Brain!"
Beatrice clutched her cane, shaking as she cried out, "Stop that! Stop that! Oh!" Suddenly she dropped the cane and put both hands to her chest. "It's my heart!" She gasped a few times and then abruptly slithered over, falling limp on the couch with her eyes closed.
Daria and Quinn stood up immediately and rushed to her side. "What happened?" Quinn asked in a panicky voice. "Is she asleep? Is she dead?"
Daria stared at her with wide eyes. "I don't...I don't know!" She reached out with a shaking hand to touch Beatrice, but yanked it back again before her fingers could make contact. "I don't know," she said again, helplessly.
"Whaddowedo?" Quinn said, half sobbing. "Whaddowedo? Whaddowedo?"
At last Daria's brain seemed to switch back on. "I guess we call 911," she said.
"But we're not supposed to use the phone when Mommy and Daddy aren't home!" Quinn was starting to sound hysterical.
"Yeah, well, we're not supposed to murder the baby-sitter, either!" Daria snapped, fear turning instantly into anger.
"We didn't m--m--do that!" Quinn whimpered, tears in her eyes. "It was an accident!"
"Some accident," Daria hissed. "You were the one who wanted to get rid of her. Happy now?"
"I just wanted to play some harmless pranks. You came up with the idea that killed her!" Quinn closed her eyes and wailed, "I wish we'd never done any of it!"
"So do I," Beatrice said, sitting up.
Daria and Quinn each let out shrieks that could have shattered glass.
Beatrice tapped her ears gently. "Good thing I'm getting a little hard of hearing or that might have hurt!"
"But you were...were...." Quinn couldn't finish her sentence. Daria only nodded.
"Dead?" Beatrice chuckled. "No, not yet. Some mornings I feel like--well, never mind that." She had noticed the terror-stricken faces staring at her and changed the subject. "It was all pretend," she explained. "My heart is fine."
"You lied!" Daria cried, pointing her finger accusingly.
Beatrice raised an eyebrow. "Would you say you've been entirely honest this week?"
Daria faltered at that, but Quinn picked up where she left off. "But you tricked us! You made us think that you'd been--"
"Stabbed by a butter knife?" Beatrice asked. "Or running either late or early all day long because the clocks kept mysteriously changing time? Or about to be bitten by snakes and spiders?"
"You knew about all that?" Daria asked her, surprised.
"Of course I did. And I also know that milk doesn't suddenly turn green out of nowhere."
"Does that mean you're not really cactus intelligent?" Quinn asked.
"No, I'm not lactose intolerant. And I'm not stupid, either. I know when I'm being pranked."
"Then why didn't you say anything?" Daria demanded.
"And ruin the game?" Beatrice replied. "This has been the most fun I've had in a long time!"