"Please, mom?" I beg at our kitchen counter as my mom runs around gathering the last tail ends of dinner. "Lucas really wants me to go. And...I've never been to a concert before—"

"That's because you never want to go," Mia replies out of turn, pacing into the kitchen while doing her makeup for an unknown reason. She turns away from her small hand mirror and stares at me for a second. "And since when do you say please?"

"Why are you doing your makeup?" I question, ignoring her quite rude statement.

She flips her hair and glares at me, but it's hard to take her seriously with only half her foundation smeared on her face.

Yes, I do know a little bit about makeup.

Wait—

Foundation is what you put first, and then that powder with the soft brush...

What about those pencils they use to draw on their faces?

You know, I've been known to draw a fantastic stick figure from time to time—

"Nosey," she replies.

I snap out of my thoughts as I see that she's now completed the other side of her...

It's eyeliner, isn't it?

Because it lines the eye.

Realization sets in, and I realize how dumb my thoughts must have sounded. Thankfully no one can hear my thoughts—mind-reading isn't possible—, because I'm starting to sound like Justin.

"You're not going to call me a troll or something?" she questions, a bit taken aback.

"I refuse to stoop to your level," I return, finally realizing I have strayed from my mission. I'm about to ask my mom about the concert again when Emilie walks into the kitchen with her head wrapped in a towel and says, "Aye-aye."

"Hello to you too," Mia greets in return. "Although you don't have to say it so weirdly."

"I was calling you an Aye-aye, dummy."

"What?"

"You wanted Paris to return your immature antics, but she doesn't have the guts. Therefore, I stepped up like the proper—"

"Wait, I'm the immature one?"

I roll my eyes, leaving them to their newest feud as I walk over to my mother, who is chopping up the last bit of toppings for the tacos.

"So...can I go?" I ask, trying to hide the slight desperation in my voice.

"I don't make the rules for being grounded, missy," my mom finally replies, after Proboscis, Hyena, Marabou, warthog, Blobfish, Sphynx cat—

'They aren't ugly.'

'Of course they are!'

—between my sisters.

I sigh, drowning them out as I think for the millionth time, 'Yet apparently being grounded doesn't apply to family outings'.

But this logical thought leads me to a quite genius idea.

"What if I convince Lucas to give me tickets for the whole family?"

"We don't want to bother him with more. He's already been incredibly generous—"

"Great! I'll text him now," I reply, pulling out my phone and ignoring her sigh.

"Since when do you have a boy's phone number?" my dad questions, storming into the room.

"It's Lucas Bryant, remember?" I remind without looking up from my phone.

"Oh, right! I never did get that autograph...for my coworkers' daughters of course."

"You're such a weirdo, dad," Emilie buts in, pausing her war with Mia.

"There's nothing wrong with liking someone's music," Dad replies.

"And what about The Bone Breakers?" Mia questions, flicking her makeup brush on her forehead.

"They're just legends, dude," Dad answers, swinging an air guitar over his shoulder and strumming a few cords. "ROCK N' ROLL!" he yells.

Yeah, awesome, a concert just for the neighbors.

I shake my head as my dad continues singing out of tune. I flip through my three contacts and find the one labeled, 'Brainless number two'.

Hey.

His response is immediate. I jump at the sound of the ding and quickly open up Messages again.

Hey! What's up?

I would say the sky, but I'm kinda on a mission.

A mission? What kind of mission? If only you could see my raised eyebrow right now.

And if only you could see my rolling eyes. Anyways—I was just texting you to ask if there was any way for me to get extra tickets for the rest of my family...?

There's a pause; no message bubbles appear on my screen. I stare patiently, willing them to appear.

I'll be honest with you: I'm a little nervous. I've never asked something big of someone...other than a dare, that is. Am I supposed to do something in return? Offer to help with something? Clean their room? Buy them a gift? Bake them a cake?

Ｆａｖｏｒ

𝐀 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝.

Ｆａｖｏｒ

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞?

I'm not really used to people being generous. It just doesn't seem like a real thing nowadays.

Before my spiral of thoughts can bring me to the darkest depths of my mind, I hear a ding.

We're all packed. I gave you guys the last tickets.

I would say my heart stopped, but I'm honestly not that desperate to go. I mean, I'm very curious...extremely curious...but curiosity did kill the cat.

And yeah, satisfaction brought him back, but he was never the same after that.

I'm as confused with my thoughts as you are.

WHO AM I EVEN TALKING TO?

Oh, okay. Should I drop the tickets off at your place then?

"Don't take my ticket!" a voice screams in my ear.

I jump off my seat at the kitchen counter and fall onto my back with a thump. I groan as I rub the aching spot, glaring absolute death daggers at Emilie. "You can't go by yourself," I reply.

"Sure I can!"

Don't worry, you can drive with us!

I'm grounded, doofus.

Since when?

Since the principal's office incident, remember?

How were you allowed to go to the show on Miami Beach?

My parents make their own rules.

The duck song suddenly blares through my phone as Brainless Number Two appears on the screen.

I really need to fix my ring tone.

Answering the call, I put it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Put your parents on the phone so I can talk to them," Lucas says from the other end.

"Why?"

"Because they should know that you didn't do the prank."

"They won't believe you."

"Won't believe what?" Emilie asks, appearing beside me and folding her arms.

"How incredibly nosy sisters can be," I return, narrowing my eyes and then turning away.

"I thought we were talking about your parents?" Lucas questions, reminding me of his presence.

Well, not presence, since he's a few doors away...but he can still hear everything I say, obviously.

"Never mind," I state, pacing away from Emilie and out of the kitchen. "You should have heard my mom's speech. She really believed I did it. She still does. She talks about it sometimes."

"Just let me talk to her," Lucas continues as I hear his shoes step onto tile. "Believe it or not, I'm very convincing."

"I think I'm going to go with the 'not'."

"Tisk tisk. What little faith you have in me. Now put them on. We have some parents that need charming."