Little Miss Babysitter

-- 1 --

"Just-- Listen to this!" I whined, pawing at the crinkly piece of parchment in my shaking hands. "Dear Miss Angela Marie Fischer, we here at Brynewood's Institute of Music have thousands of other hopeful teenagers apply, just like yourself.-- First off, could they be less blunt?! Not to be shrewd, but damn!"

She began to raise her eyebrows, signalling that she had an opinion on the matter, but my quick intake of breath translated to 'I'm-about-to-speak-so-don't-you-dare.'

"We reviewed your tape,-- Blah, blah, blah.-- You have impressive talents.-- Blah, blah, blah. --But unfortunately, we can only have so many students on our roster, and you weren't one of them."

"Oh, honey." Her eyebrows took a toll closer to her nose, rather than her hair line. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, whatever." I grumbled, flinging the now crumpled sheet across the room, only to miss the trash can. "Why does this always happen to me?!"

"Honey, please-"

"No, mom!" I cried out, lapping up the paper into the trash can, and heaving out my thick breaths through my clenched teeth. "Am I just not supposed to be a singer? Is this fate's way of telling me that?"

"No!" She protested, ushering me to sit back down atop the moderately polished table top. "Just-- Don't give up. --Let's think rationally, for a minute. As crazy as that sounds.

"You go to an average public school... With a student run music department. That doesn't look so good on college applications."

"Well what else am I supposed to do?!" I seethed quietly, not willing myself to get angry with the only person that was willing to help me at a time like this.

"Maybe," She warned, placing a tentative hand on my flexed arm. "Maybe we should look in to finding you a better, private school. You know, for one that meets your needs."

The corrupt waves of my brain grinded to a halt and my eyes froze in their sockets. "I-- Never thought about that before."

"Well, maybe it's time that you did." She tapped her lip, an enthused, quiet inspiration gleaming in the back of her eyes. "Have you ever thought about North Brinley Charter School for the Musical Arts?"

That name, spiking a flow of memories to come flooding back into my mind, made me tingle in hopeful sparks of relish.

Yes. I remember-- sometime last year, I heard that name float around my group of friends. Someone there had been on Broadway, and it's been wildly popular ever since.

"That sounds great! Why didn't you tell me earlier?!" I jumped around in giddy excitement, clambering for my mother to join me in my uncontained joy. She simply crossed her arms with an entertained smirk on top of her lips.

"Because I thought you'd know the tuition is 30,000 dollars a year." She shook her head, making her graying curls sway with it.

My crazed antics stopped then, and I drooped down into a low dining hall seat.

Right.

Along with being one of the top music schools of the country, it's also one of the most outrageously expensive. Only the rich of the rich can afford to send their children there for high school. It almost costs as much as college! Or a kidney transplant.

I don't need any more kidneys.

"Baby, don't get your hopes down though." She cooed, slipping a finger beneath my chin, and raising my head to meet her tender gaze. "I have a proposition that might solve our problems."

My eyes perked up. "Really? What is it?"

She laughed fully, patting down her skirt, before taking a soulful step to meet a cutting board on top of the nearby counter. "Do you remember my high school romance, Rosie Rider?"

"Oh god. Are we talking in the days when you had some 'crazy experiments' before you met dad?" I said with the shake of my head in dismay.

"Yup." She popped the 'p', and grinned boyishly. "Well, about six years ago, she-- had some unexpected 'visitors' that have stayed with her ever since..."

"What? Like an unknown relative?" I blinked at my mother's attempt to be discreet. She simply sighed, looking away and at the slight rain behind the cracked kitchen window.

"More like a group of love children."

"Mom!"

"What?" She whipped back around, her hands up in surrender. "I was only thinking of you! She still hasn't found a babysitter!"

I let my eyebrows hike south, sending her a downcast glance, when her face lit up with a mischevious glow.

"She's gotten rich, you know."

"Oh?" One of my brows unconsciously cocked itself higher, faulting my deadpanned facade.

"Does it sound like anything you'd be interested in doing? I mean, not that you have to, but..."

"How much?" I barely uttered, letting a sly smile creep onto my face.

"About 50 an hour. Bonus if they're in bed on time." She said gaily. Then, strolling over to the sink as if she hadn't just proposed a plan to end my worries, she added, "Plus; it's only for five hours after school everyday. You can bring your bags with you and do homework, go on the internet, eat for free--"

"Wait; what?! Everyday?! I'll be missing dinner with my family and simple relaxation everyday?!"

"Well! Not on weekends-"

"Mom! That an enormous commitment!"

Her face quickly grew beet red. "Or 250 dollars a day."

That shut me up.

So, my one mother, is basically black mailing me into getting me to babysit some foreign kids that I've never heard of my life.

That's swell.

Well, it does pay amazingly. Better than anything I've ever had in my life.

And trust me; being a cashier at a drive thru Burger King is not amazing.

With that kind of income, I'd have enough money to go to that school in no time. Then no more colleges would be saying no to me! It's a done deal. I'd go there for senior year, learn everything there is to know about music, and come out a champion.

But... Do I really want to sacrifice moderately all of my free time to some kids that could possibly rip my hair out when I'm asleep? Glue my butt to the chair, just as I would sit down? Put salt in the sugar and sugar in the salt?

Hmm.

"When can I meet with her?" I sighed deeply, feeling as cheap as Taylor the cheerleader at one of her friend's 'Fiesty Fiesta' meetups. What I wouldn't do for money...

"In about 45 minutes." My mother sent me a guilty look, her eyes widening to the shape of saucers.

What?!

"What?" I blinked.

"See, I knew how this would go. --And I read your mail beforehand so... I sort of planned it all out. I called her a couple of hours ago." Her eyes darted around the room, basking in the extrordinary detail of the stained dining wall, four feet away.

"You did what?" I hissed, feeling a hissy fit boil beneath my skin.

"Oh, c'mon now, pumpkin! Are you saying you won't meet with her?" She pouted, exposing her evident school-girl self. She isn't much different from Taya at all. No wonder they're 'such-great-friends'.

"I never said that." I said coldly, spitting out all of my consonants.

Her frown slipped up to form a beaming grin, and she enveloped me in a bone crushing hug, leaving me hacking up my organs. This woman will surely be the death of me, if it isn't those children.

Let's just hope I'll make it out in one piece.