I was watching my little sister Karen, because my mum’s working late. “Now Lyla, you have to watch Karen tonight, you know what a messer she is,” she had said. I watched her until 8:13 because I went on my phone, and suddenly heard a bang like a pot on our floor, the squirt of paint and the shake of salt. I bolted downstairs and heard the doorbell. Mum! She walked in and turned white. “Karen! What is that greasy, brown, melted mess, and is that my expensive salt?!” I turned around to see Karen with Giraffe, half-melted. “Sisters,” I muttered.