KATIE DID IT

“Muuuuum?”

She pokes her head around the corner, her brown hair falling into her face. “Yes, sweetie?” she asks. You shove the empty tin box under her nose.
“All of my raspberry biscuits are gone!” you whine. “They were all here yesterday! Where are they?”
You mother takes the tin in her delicate hands and peers into the tin box as if it will make the biscuits reappear and shakes her head. “I – I don’t know, sweetie…maybe you ate them all?”
“Mum, if I ate them all I wouldn’t be asking where they went!”
She shrugs and hands back the tin. “Well, you never know…”
You glare at her. “Katie did it,” you declare. “Katie ate them.”
You mother shakes her head again. “No, Sadie…Katie doesn’t like raspberry biscuits, remember?”
“Katie did it!” you insist.
“Don’t be absurd, Sadie…”

Upstairs in her bedroom, Katie giggles.

“Daaaaad?”

He lumbers into the living room holding five remote controls. “Sadie, there you are. Which one works the television?”
You ignore him. “Dad, look!”
He looks up at you.
“At my clothes!”
He looks down at your clothes. He sighs and shakes his head sadly. “Oh, Sadie…I thought I told you not to play around with scissors to resize your clothes yourself…you can get new clothes whenever you want…”
“No, Dad!” you whine, clutching your shredded clothes. “I didn’t do this!”
Your father scratches his balding head. “I don’t understand, Sadie…if you didn’t, who did?”
You glare at him. “Katie did it,” you declare. “Katie cut up my clothes.”
Your father shakes his head again. “No, Sadie…Katie doesn’t have scissors, remember?”
“Katie did it!” you insist.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sadie…”

Upstairs in her bedroom, Katie chuckles.

“Graaaaandmaaaaa?”

She turns around in her chair and peers at you through her ancient glasses. “Yes, cara?” she asks.
You hold up the two pieces of your school assessment – the two pieces that used to be one. “Look what happened to my assessment!” you wail. “It’s due tomorrow!”
Your grandmother squints at the cardboard and miniscule writing and shakes her head once she realises what has happened. “Oh, Sadie, cara, I know you do not like school much but isn’t that assessment worth a lot…?”
You nod your head. “Yes, it is, but I didn’t do this!”
She adjusts her glasses. “But, cara, who else could?”
You glare at her. “Katie did it,” you declare. “Katie tore up my assessment.”
Your grandmother shakes her head again. “No, Sadie…Katie has her own assessments to tear up, remember?”
“Katie did it!” you insist.
“Don’t be silly, Sadie…”

Upstairs in her bedroom, Katie chortles.

“Miiiiitccccchhhhh?”

He pulls off his headphones and bobs his head up and down. “Yo, whazzup, sis?” he asks.
You hold up one of your many books. “Look at my book! It’s the same with all of them!”
Your brother takes the book and looks over it, still nodding his head like an idiot and examining the chunks of pages missing. Then he shakes his head. “Aw, sis,” he slurs, “you know that eating books ain’t good for ya…”
“I didn’t eat it!” you moan, grabbing the book back.
He strums his fingers on the sofa, puzzled. “No-one else in the family likes books, sis…who else mighta eaten it?”
You glare at him. “Katie did it,” you declare. “Katie ate my books.”
Your brother Mitch shakes his head again. “No way, Sadie…Katie hates books, remember?”
“Katie did it!” you insist.
“Don’t be stupid, Sadie…”

Upstairs in her bedroom, Katie laughs.

“Auuuuuntiiiiieeeee Joyyyyce?

She looks up from her cooking and glances at you. “What is it, Sadie?” she asks.
You hold up your pillow case and stare up at her in your pyjamas. “Look at what happened to my pillow case!”
Your Auntie Joyce takes the pillow case’s corner between two pinched manicured nails, holds it an arm’s length away from her body and wrinkles her nose, shaking her head. “Sadie,” she says disapprovingly, “you know that you shouldn’t be playing around with paint…”
“But I wasn’t!” you cry, grabbing the red-painted pillow back from your Auntie.
She looks confused. “Well, who else would paint your pillow red?”
You glare at her. “Katie did it,” you declare. “Katie painted my pillow red.”
Your Auntie Joyce shakes her head again. “No, Sadie…Katie doesn’t like paint, remember?”
“Katie did it!” you insist.
“Don’t be childish, Sadie…”

Upstairs in her bedroom, Katie sniggers.

“BELLA’S GONE!”

Everyone comes running.

“SHE’S GONE! I CAN’T FIND HER!”

Your mother places a hand on your shoulder in comfort. “Oh, come on, Sadie, I’m sure the cat’s around here somewhere…”

“SHE’ S GONE!”

“You probably just scared her off with that screaming of yours!” snaps your Auntie Joyce.

“KATIE DID IT!”

Everyone groans.

“KATIE KILLED MY CAT!”

Everyone places their hands on their hips, frowning deeply and shaking their heads. “Sadie,” your mother begins in a stern voice, “you know better than to accuse your sister of that! Besides, she’s allergic to the cat…”

“KATIE DID IT!”

“Don’t be preposterous, Sadie!”

Upstairs in her bedroom, Katie cackles.