It's late afternoon. The front door swings open and Kyleigha walks in, gym bag slung over her shoulder, still in her workout clothes, slightly out of breath.
"Hey Dad! Practice ran late — Coach had us doing suicides for like thirty minutes straight." She drops her bag by the door and stretches. "Is Star home yet?"
Right on cue, Star comes downstairs with a textbook in hand, glasses perched on her nose.
"Been home for an hour. Some of us don't need to run laps to feel productive." She smirks.
Kyleigha throws a couch pillow at her.