The response came in the form of a cheery rhythm beat against the wall. The rapping continued, but it was quieter.

Scarlett had almost nodded back off when her door flew open and her older brother, Spencer, leapt into her room triumphantly, arms raised above his head, like he’d just won the marathon. His wet hair was standing on end in a post-toweling shake, and his brown eyes were glistening manically.

“I…am…finished!” he announced.

Spencer rarely got to sleep past five in the morning because of his job doing the breakfast shift at The Waldorf-Astoria. Scarlett, who got up at normal-person hours, never saw him in his work clothes—the black pants and stiff white dress shirt that enlonged and slenderized his already very long and slender frame. As he stood over her bed, dripping water from his still-wet head onto her, he looked about eleven feet tall and dangerously awake. Any more than four hours of sleep was too much for him.

“Wake up, wake up,” he said, giving her a friendly poke on the top of the head with each word. “Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up…Is this annoying? It looks kind of annoying, but only you can judge.”

“I already saw Naked Lady on the roof,” Scarlett protested, swatting at his hand and pulling up the sheet to protect herself. “I’m damaged. Stop tormenting me.”

Spencer paused his poking and went to the window. He looked out for a moment as he fastened his cuff buttons, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“I don’t know if you noticed where she’s holding that mug,” he said, “but I’m kind of worried that she might burn herself on the…”

Scarlett squealed and rolled over, stuffing her face into her pillow. When she looked up again, Spencer was leaning against her bureau, loosely looping a black tie around his neck.

“I switched shifts to be here this morning,” he said. “I’m doing the host stand for lunch, which is really, really boring. See the lengths I go to for you? Am I your favorite brother?”

“Favorite and only.”

“Words that warm my heart. Now, come on.” He shook her blanketed foot as he left the room. “We do not get the waffles until you rise. So rise! Rise! Rise, sister!” He continued yelling the words, “Rise, rise!” all the way down the hall.

Scarlett slipped out of bed, grabbed her shower basket, and walked to the door. The long cuffs of her blue-and-white striped pajamas scuffed under her feet, getting trapped under her heels and making her stumble. It was even hotter in the fifth floor hallway, which didn’t even have a dysfunctional air conditioner to cool it.

As soon as she stepped out of her room, Scarlett had her second sibling encounter of the day. Her little sister, Marlene, had also just stepped out into the hall, answering the call of the waffle. Marlene took one look at Scarlett, squinting at her through her light hazel eyes that often had a truly disturbing golden appearance. The bathroom would only fit one. Scarlett was just about to open her mouth to begin the negotiation process when Marlene bolted for it, slamming the door shut behind her. Scarlett heard the faint scrape of the lock, and a single, sharp laugh of triumph, not unlike the sound of an angry Canadian goose.