Published: January 24th 2025, 1:34:26 am
I should have known it was a stupid idea.
Even with the tracking bracelet on my wrist, Noelle rarely let me out of her sight . The only exception was when Paige acted like a good ‘big sister’ and invited me to hang out with her and her friends. That wouldn’t work for my current predicament, as I would end up farther away from the diapering supplies Noelle kept in her babysitting bag. It had to be those diapers, unfortunately. The cloth ones Paige had been sent to buy were now in my underwear drawer, provided Paige had followed Noelle’s instructions. As convenient as it would be to change myself in the privacy of my room, Noelle would definitely notice if I was suddenly wearing a different kind of padding than what she had taped me up in earlier.
My decision to stay quiet about the ‘accident,’ caused by Miley and all the water I had chugged before she pounced on me, also meant that I had lost my only real chance to tell Noelle some iteration of the truth. By the time I finished the science worksheet in front of me, I had been sitting in the wet diapers for nearly thirty minutes. As in, Noelle would learn that I had wet myself and that I didn’t say anything about it for an extended period of time. Of course, I had the same problem when it had been 45 minutes, and then an hour.
A few minutes after the hour mark, Miley came inside by herself. Closing the sliding door behind her, she said, “Hey. What gives, Miley? You said you’d let me know when you were good.”
“What’s that?” Noelle asked. She looked a little annoyed that the real Miley was interrupting our productive time, no doubt since she was used to how Paige had made a habit of politely checking in.
Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out what Miley’s angle was. She and I never talked about me going back out there. Was this her trying to figure out whether or not I had gotten myself cleaned up since our race? If so, she needed to shut up right now!
“I convinced everyone to keep hanging out on the porch instead of going back up to Paige’s room,” she said, “You know, so Miley could get her diapers changed without anyone else inside.”
At first, Noelle looked surprised. Within a second or two, however, her expression shifted to something between disbelief and anger. She looked me right in the eyes and asked, “And why would Miley need a diaper change . . . ?”
No! That wasn’t fair! There was no getting away from it, either. All Noelle needed to do was feel the used padding, and any claims I made about them being dry would be proven false. “It’s her fault!” I exclaimed, “She-”
“MILEY.” Noelle raised her voice, cutting me off sternly enough that the actual Miley in the room jumped a little bit from her name being said like that. “That’s enough. It’s Alyssa’s fault, is it? Just like it was Ruby’s fault earlier? Wait, didn’t you blame Paige for a couple things, too?”
But- But, that was-
It did sound really bad when she listed off all three girls like that, with the implication that she was referring to previous ‘accidents’ of mine. Except I had been telling the truth every time, or at least attempting to. If Noelle didn’t believe me then, she certainly wouldn’t believe me now. Doing homework in used diapers all this time only worked against me now that my stalling had been ruined by the very girl who caused the wetting to happen in the first place.
When I couldn’t find my voice in the face of Noelle berating me, she asked me point blank, “Are your diapers dry, Miley? Yes, or no?”
As if she needed to ask. The look on my face probably said it all, as well as what I blurted out a few seconds ago. My best guess was that hitting me with a yes/no question was her way of getting ahead of any other explanations or excuses I might respond with. Blushing up a storm, particularly due to the possessive way Noelle just referenced the padding I was wearing, I averted my gaze and muttered, “No . . . ”
“No,” she said, “So, when was the last time they were dry? Alyssa?”
Like Paige, Miley knew how to keep a straight face when she needed to. Manipulative brat. Telling her version of what happened, Miley said, “She wet herself in the middle of our last race. I told her I’d try to keep the others outside so she could get changed without anyone else around. She didn’t tell you?”
“She didn’t.” Noelle stood up, crossing her arms and glaring down at me. “Apparently she’s fine sitting in her own piss. Is that it, Miley?”
“No!” I protested. Obviously, that wasn’t true. It was such a mortifying suggestion, and I also wasn’t prepared for her to use the more harsh word in regards to what was causing the innermost diaper to cling to me.
“Then why didn’t you say anything?” she pressed, “Alyssa, any guesses?”
“I bet she was just embarrassed. Poor thing,” Miley said, “I bet that’s why she acts all tough. What’s the word? Overcompensating?”
“Exactly,” Noelle said, “And if she had said something, she would be in clean diapers by now. What did she do instead?”
“Sit in her own piss for an hour?” Miley echoed. This time, she couldn’t completely keep herself from smiling at how she and Noelle were talking about me like this right in front of my face.
Noelle was trying to teach me a lesson, I was assuming, by roping in a girl she believed to be a classmate of mine. And since Miley had lied about how she tried to help me out, Noelle had no reason to believe she was doing any of this maliciously. Or that Noelle had the two of us mixed up entirely.
“That’s right,” Noelle nodded, “More than an hour, actually. Just sitting here in wet diapers, working on her summer assignments without saying a word. She had plenty of time to tell me.” Finally speaking to me directly again, she met my eyes and said, “Get up, Miley. We need to get you cleaned up; hopefully all that baby powder was enough to keep you from getting a rash down there.”
“Hey, Noelle?” Miley said, “Can I help? It would be nice to get some actual babysitting experience before my first job. Actually, never mind; I guess it would be a little weird changing a girl my age.”
For all her expertise in watching difficult girls, Noelle was blind to the manipulative games the real Miley was playing. “Hmm. Normally, I would say ‘no.’ But maybe having a babysitter her own age will teach Miley to not be so immature the next time she has an accident.”
“So, a punishment for her, and a learning experience for me?” Miley summarized.
This couldn’t be happening. I opened my mouth to argue, only to be cut off before getting a single word out.
“Miley!” Noelle snapped, “I told you to get up. Right now, young lady.”
Mirroring the older girl, ‘practicing’ her own babysitter energy, Miley said, “You heard her, brat. Get moving.”