A/n: Yay! I actually kept to my time line! It's Sunday- or at least it is in some parts of the world- and here's the next chapter. I love you guys too much. This weekend went fine, and it was actually pretty fun. Did some work with ECOS planting trees, and saw A Streetcar Named Desire. The play was kinda of sketchy, but it was good. Also had enough spare time to catch a visit to the museum of flight. They had a whole dedicated space flight center. Put it this way: I took 70 pictures on the trip; 63 three of them were at the flight museum; 60 of those 63 were of the space flight center. *drools*.

And thanks to EVERYONE who's been reviewing. I know I started this by replying to each and every one of you, and now I'm barely replying to anyone. This doesn't mean I appreciate them less or that I'm not reading them. Quite the opposite! I just don't have the time to express anything more verbal than 'Thanks', which is what I'm doing now. I really, really appreciate all the positive comments I've been receiving. So here's the next (and second last!) chapter.

Oh, and no cats were harmed in the making of this story.


Sitter Suggestion #84: Make sure the house is in the same state that you arrived to!

Alysha sat in a chair in the kitchen, staring at the wall. She was shaking slightly and every so often the muscle beneath her right eye would twitch violently. She jumped at the slightest sound and her hands were twisting around each other, forming invisible pictures in the air; some of which might have been interpreted as strangling motions.

She was only here for another forty minutes. Forty long minutes, and then she would be free and she'd never have to see the Tracys again. Just forty. Forty.

She still smelled like cat sick.

After the cat had thrown up on her, she surprisingly had not screamed. At that particular point in time she hadn't had any real desire to open her mouth. John and Scott had come running down the hallway but not in time to stop Alysha dropping the cat out of the second story window.

Turns out cats have a harder time landing on their feet after they've been put through the spin cycle.

She had given the two boys a glare promising vengeance, and had tramped down the hallway, deftly avoiding the pool of cat sick, towards the laundry room. She had found the stain remover, a plastic basin and a wash cloth, and had gone to work removing the evidence that Juan had ever been in the house.

And now she was back in the kitchen, homework laid out over the table, trying to convince herself that it was possible to do something, without anything going wrong. It was a hard task considering she smelt of raw fish and pepperoni, had a coating of what she had figured out to be olive oil (which she had cleaned up right after the cat sick), and had bits of pasta cemented to her scalp.

Slowly she picked up the pencil, the thin piece of wood trembling violently in her hand.

First problem.

If f(x)= 7x +2, solve for f(3)

"What are you doing?"

She jumped, the pencil squiggling a messy line all over the work she had barely started. John stood directly behind her, peering over her shoulder.

Taking several calming breaths, she replied, "Math. Go to bed."

He frowned. "I don't have to go to bed for another ten minutes."

"Well, go get ready for bed."

"It won't make a difference. My body's internal clock is set for-"

Alysha interrupted him before he could really get into his stride. "Just... be quiet."

He nodded and proceeded to just stand there. Deciding that something was better than nothing she turned back to her homework. She flipped the pencil around and erased the mess her pencil had created, then started to re-write the equation.

If f(x) =

"Twenty-three."

She jumped again. "What?"

"Twenty-three. The answer is twenty-three."

"How did you-"

"It's simple. You just substitute the three for the x."

"I thought you were in grade 5?"

"I am."

Alysha stared, completely and utterly bemused. So not only was this child a premature bibliophile, but he was a mathematical genius as well. And yet somehow she couldn't find it within herself to care.

"Forty-two."

Was that the answer to life or something? "What?"

"Forty-two. The answer to the next question is forty-two."

"I haven't even...," she whispered to herself, sounding only the slightest bit despondent. She frowned at the next question, determined to get it before the ten-year-old.

"Negative three."

Or not.

"Okay, if you're so smart what's the answer to the challenge question?" she bit out, growing more and more irritated, both at John and at herself. This was getting ridiculous. He was silent for a moment, and for one brief second she felt a malevolent pleasure that she had bested him.

"x+2."

Alysha let out a sound that was an odd hybrid between laughter, and a howl of misery. Abruptly she cut it off with a gasping breath, before pointing to the door and saying in a shaky voice, "Bed."

Funnily enough, he didn't argue this time.

She took a few more labored breaths, her jaw trembling the entire time. Then she set about shoving her homework away; she was definitely not going to go anywhere with it tonight. Staring at the wall sounded just fine to her. The pencil was shoved violently into the pencil case, the tip breaking off, and the math book was slammed shut, the piece of paper with virtually nothing on it still inside. She stood up and stuck her head outside the door frame, checking the hallway for possible dangers.

Slowly she made her way down the hallway jumping at every creak the floorboards made. She found her duffel in the sitting room, and shoved her math book and pencil case into it. Of course, by now she had also discovered that the scrabble board she had assumed the boys had put away for her had not actually been put away. She hadn't even bothered looking for it.

For a moment there was silence. Four were in bed, and she couldn't care less what the other one was doing...

CRASH!

Alysha didn't even bother holding in the sob that was wrenched from her throat. She took a few seconds to attempt to pull herself together. When it didn't work she ran down the hallway towards the lounge anyway.

Upon arrival, her feet were taken out from under for the hundredth time that evening. She pulled her head from the floor, with the resigned feeling that she knew exactly what she had slipped in. Pulling a few strands of her hair in front of her face, her suspicions were confirmed. They were blue.

Turning around in the puddle, she observed a wash of many colors on the floor. There was a hypnotic swirl of orange, red, blue, black, yellow, and green spread across the wood. She twisted her neck to try and see her back. From what she could see of it, it had the same pattern as the floor imprinted upon on it.

"I thought you were trained to take care of children, not make messes?" she heard Scott say from behind her.

She raised her head, her neck still at the same awkward angle she had been using to try and see her back. She barely noticed her bottom lip trembling.

Scott raised his eyebrows before shrugging and saying, "Alan's gone. Just thought I'd let you know."

"Thanks," she whispered dazedly, before clambering to her feet and stumbling out the door.

She was once again lost for words. The chair had been removed, by one of the older siblings no doubt, and the foul fiend was yet again nowhere to be found. She was now going through every single cupboard and drawer in the kitchen.

Cutlery.

Cups.

Plates.

Place-mats.

"BOO!" a shrill little voice cried.

She jumped a mile high, probably flinging paint onto the ceiling.

"Found him?"

She whirled to face Scott, pointing at the repulsive rascal residing in the cupboard, "Nobody told me he could talk!"

"He's two. Why wouldn't he be able to?"

"Because...." She floundered for an answer.

"You just assumed didn't you?"

"Well…"

"You did. Don't even try to deny it. You didn't think he could talk. You just thought he was a sweet little angel, or whatever other disgusting synonym you wanted to call him, who would just sit there nice and quiet and not cause you any trouble. Well, guess what? You've just been introduced to the terrible twos. The bane of every parent's life."

Alysha felt her jaw drop. This kid was really stepping over the line. Yet at the same time, he was seriously scaring her.

"And even better?" he continued. "We're only just getting started. You've still got thirty minutes to go before grandma gets here. And let me tell you, every single one of us is sick of you. You're condescending, you're ignorant, you're irresponsible, you can't take a hint, you're clumsy, you're insulting, and above all, you are an idiot. So you'd better watch your back. 'Cause anything can happen in the next half hour."

Scott stepped forward and picked Alan up out of the cupboard. He strode from the room without a backwards glance.

Alysha gulped.


I'm sorry! I couldn't help the Stingray reference! It was just too tempting. Well Scott's finally had his say. Make sure you give me yours!