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Sending her twin to the Moon had been a perfect idea.
Layla doesn't like it when her perfect ideas go wrong. It makes her sulky, though she doesn't like sulking because sulking is something little kids do, and Layla's ten and therefore reasonably displeased.
Their parents close the door. The only light in the room's a thin silver of moonlight that makes it past their curtains, now, and Layla's supposed to be going back to sleep (though technically mama said 'at some point,' not 'right now,' so).
Which means sitting up and scootching over to the pillar at the head of the bed, and then pulling herself up until she's able to see over Samira's rail, is perfectly within bounds.
"What happened?" she whispers, shifting to the side a bit so she's more on the tiger perch. It's easier to stand on.
