"What's this?" Lauren snapped. One hand was planted on her hip, the other held a colorful cellophane pack.
"Uh. A bag of Chips Ahoy?" Megan said.
"Right. And what was it doing on the couch?"
"Oh, uh. Because we missed that one, or dropped it or something, I guess."
"I told you. I didn't want to find any of this junk in the house." Lauren tossed the bag contemptuously and Meg grabbed it, nearly fumbling. "So fine. Okay. You want to play human garbage disposal, well, eat up."
"I, uh..." Meg began.
"She's already had plenty today," you protested, earning you a grateful look from Meg. Lauren shakes her head and snorts.
"Apparently not enough."
"She'll get sick if she eats any more!"
"Good, that'll help her learn." Lauren frowned. "And if you make a stink about it, I'll tell Mom what you're spending her money on, and when she gets hole she'll kill both of you."
"It's okay!" Megan says. "I'll eat! I'll eat! See?" She tears off the cover and stuffs a handful of the butter-rich chocolatey pastries into her mouth.
------------
"Feeling okay?" you ask, guiding Meg back up the stairs. "Not gonna hurl?"
"I'm... okay," she breathes. "I'm not gonna barf or anything. I'm just really full."
She's not kidding. After about a pound of cookies on top of everything else, the poor kid is practically waddling.
"You want to lie down again?"
"Yes, but..." She closes her eyes in sudden discomfort. "In your room. Mine's full of a lotta painful reminders right now."
She ends up flopping backwards onto your bed, grunting a little and letting her legs dangle over the edge. "Bleerggh. I'm dead."
"Cause of death?" you ask, mock-seriously.
"Death by cookie," she replies. "Blech. Gross. I feel like I just ate a whole sack of sugar, and not in, like, a good way."
You draw up her hoodie, exposing her bare midriff. "You look like, it, too, Miss Chubby Bunny." You pat her gently rounded stomach.
"H-hey!" she giggles. "Stop it! I'm too full, you're gonna make me barf!"
"Not in my bed!" you say hurriedly. You pull a few tissues from the box on the end table. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. There's chocolate all over your face."
She turns a little pink.
"All right?"
"Yeah, I'm..." The pink deepens. "It's been a lot time since you cleaned my face off like that."
"Oh. No problem." You push a few stray curly strands from her forehead. "You're still my little sister. Even if you're a little less little in the middle."
She laughs and sticks her tongue out. "Thanks a lot, dummy!"
"So what do you want to do with all those, uh, painful reminders in your room?" you ask.
Meg looks thoughtful. "Hmm..."
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