The Babysitter » styles

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“And there's no guarantee that this will be easy."

Harry had his friends over again, so I just stayed in my room. I was on Google again, continuing my search from the night before.

I doubted I would actually prank Harry and his stupid friends. I once tried to pull a prank on Allie, but she wasn't fooled because I just kept laughing hysterically. I'm just not good at acting; well, most of the time.

A knock came at the door, and before I could call come in, it opened and Louis poked his head around the corner.

“Hey, Clara."

“Go away."

He pouted. “We're making cake, do you want some?"

“No," I answered. “I'd rather not worry about being poisoned."

Louis raised an eyebrow. “We wouldn't poison it. We're eating some too."

I rolled my eyes. “No."

“Well, can you come downstairs, then?" he requested. “Harry isn't sure how to work the stove."

I turned my phone off, muttering, “Boys," under my breath, before sliding off my bed and following Louis down the stairs.

“What do you need help with?" I asked, entering the kitchen. Harry was holding a spatula in one hand, and a mixing bowl in the other. He glanced over his shoulder upon hearing my question.

“The stove," he answered. “I have to preheat it, but it won't turn on."

I walked over, checking the stove. “It looks like it's turned on right now."

“Is it?" Harry set down the bowl and walked over, standing very close to me.

I nodded, pointing to a glowing red button. “That means it's on."

“I'll keep that in mind for the next time I'm baking something," Harry replied, padding over to the mixing bowl again.

I began to walk towards the door, planning on going to my room and actually locking the door, but Harry called out.

“Clara?"

I turned around, sighing. “Yeah?"

“Can you help me pour the batter into the pan?"

I sighed, joining Harry by the countertop. I waited as he poured the batter into a pan, and then held it as he used the spatula to scrape the rest of it into the pan.

“Am I allowed to leave now?" I asked as Harry put the pan into the oven. “You don't need me anymore?"

“No," he answered without turning around, setting a timer.

I walked out of the kitchen, heading up to my room. I caught a glance of myself in my mirror, and made a face, attempting to fix my brown hair. It looked greasy and hung limply down by my face. I sighed before grabbing a change of clothes and headed into the bathroom attached to my room.

I turned the knob, waiting until the shower was warm, before stepping into the shower. I soaked my hair before squirting some shampoo into my hand and rubbing it on my head. It smelled faintly of blueberries. I checked the bottle to see what kind of shampoo it was, thinking I'd get some for home, when I noticed it wasn't actually shampoo.

It was hair dye. Typical.

I shrieked, turning the water off and getting out immediately. I quickly grabbed a towel and rubbed at my hair, hoping that the dye would somewhat come out. Nope. I scowled, drying myself off and changing, before looking into the mirror to see what colour my hair was.