Chapter 15

"You're late." Aurora states as I walk into the North Presbyterian church. She's wearing a black button-up pink shirt with some black jeans and low heels. How proper.

"I'm five minutes early," I reply, grabbing a cinnamon bagel on the way to the back of the church. I sign my name on the sign-in sheet and look to where I'll be placed. Two-year-olds. They're not bad. They're sweet and entertaining. There's a crier or two but what, are ya going to do?

I walk into the toddler room and grab a baby wipe. The perks of being a babysitter- endless baby wipes yet no actual health care. I'm the first in the room, so I grab the material checklist and get to work. Wipes, check. Cheerios, check. Diapers, check. Cups, check. Water? No check. The water jug is refilled every shift at the water fountain.

"Hey, Mi'a," Jo says, greeting me as she enters the toddler room. I hate that bitch. Crap, I'm in church. God forgive me. I said it to myself, though. So first things first, Jo wasn't Jo. No, she's not some secret criminal. I'm just not good with names and could only remember it started with - Jo. That's not why I don't like Jo. I don't like Jo because she's two years older than me and thinks I'll take her shit. I won't.

"Waaah!" Elliot, a regular. Regular crier enters the room with his dad. They look alike pale, white skin and dark chestnut hair. They have different personalities, though. Elliot stays crying from the time he comes to the time he sees his dad again, and his dad is always smiling and thanking us. Elliot cries as his dad leaves. Surprise. Surprise. I have to take his shit for the next three hours.

The kids start to slowly trickle in as their parents head off to the church service. They're all regulars. We rarely get new kids. A few of the kids are like Georgia. She's one of the most beautiful babies I've ever seen in person. She has these big, Bambi, brown, doe eyes that make you want to do whatever she says. She's also quiet as a doorknob and likes to read. Then, Millie looks gorgeous in her little blue dress and has the bounciest brown curls. She's also quiet as a mouse. Then there's Peter. He's a doll who is also calm and blonde and likes to hold onto his blue blanket.

The kids all do their own thing, rarely interacting with one another. A few like to sit for a short minute and listen to a story. Then most of the boys prefer the farm animals and toy cars. They Are all chill and low maintenance, considering their about ten of them and two of us. They could easily overpower us and have a Rugrat baby breakout. The tiny toddler room has three tables and little chairs precisely unmet for adults. A shelf full of toys and crates full of books. There are pictures on the wall and a road rug the boys use to race their cars: a changing table and a shelf for the room supplies.

It's a pretty stable room with the same kids who like to see the same people. I think they trust us and so they don't retaliate or act out. "Aaaaagh!" Elliot whines. He's been half sobbing, half sucking his fingers this whole time. Pacifiers aren't allowed. They're like crack to these babies. If one has it, they all want it, no matter whose mouth has been on it. Jo allows Elliot to sit on her lap, providing him with extra attention, and that's why I don't like that chick. She holds him and thinks she doesn't have to do anything but hold him.

I pour a container of cheerios into small cups around eleven for the children. I fill a few cups with water, and some kids' parents have brought them water cups. The kids hurry to their chairs because if pacifiers are like crack to these babies, cheerios are like Marijuana. It's not as dangerous, but it raises a heavy debate. I give myself a cup of plain cheerios because why not.

The toddlers eat their cheerios, with many kids wanting seconds and some thirds. I happily comply. They are pretty cute. The next hour passes with me cleaning cheerios off the floor and collecting the trash. It's not tedious labor, but Jo just sits and sits with crying, Elliot. Even while eating the cheerios, he cried. Good grief. At twelve, I start checking diapers before the parents arrive at twelve-thirty. I start with the girls. They are always a bit more compliant. I unsnap buckles and buttons and lift many layers of clothing to get to the diapers.

Most are still empty. They've only been here for about three hours, so most stay dry. A few, however, leave pleasant surprises.

"Thanks for the help," I say to Jo once all ten kids are done. I changed about four, so it wasn't too bad, but still, she didn't change, not one.

Jo bounces baby Elliot on her lap, "I couldn't help and hold him. There was no way. Mission impossible."

"Mission impossible, my ass." I thought to myself.

The kids' parents start to arrive one by one. The majority of the two-year-olds have older siblings who come with parents to pick up their younger siblings.

I leave the classroom when all kids have gone to empty the water jug. "Hey, stranger." An all too familiar voice greets me from behind.

I turn around, and behind me is Lillian. She stands an inch or two shorter than me in an elegant, pink, of course, half-sleeve, knee-length dress and black Jordan's. "Nice shoes," I reply.

"I would say it back, but you wear the same shoes and the same typical shirt and black leggings," Lillian says honestly, walking with me back to the toddler room.

I roll my dark brown eyes and shake my head from side to side, "One, I'm basic, and two, I don't dress to impress anyone." I declared, placing the empty water jug in its rightful place.

"I know," Lillian whispers, glancing behind her to the empty hall. She takes a step closer. "That's why I like you. You're not extra."

I step around Lillian when I hear the sounds of quick footsteps approaching. "We're in church," I whisper.

"I'm a sinner," Lillian says back, resting her hand on my arm.

Her touch tickles the hair on my upper limb, "Jesus. I'm not." Lying in church. I turn away from Lillian and roll my eyes once more. God forgive me. I walk out the door and narrowly miss Aurora. She's so focused. She doesn't even stop to nag me. I have a feeling I know where she's going. I'm not that interested in finding out. I sign my name and skillfully sidestep numerous children and parents. Lillian gets lost in the crowd. I have no intention of chatting it up with her parents and exit the double church doors. A lot of folks have the same purpose. Cars are backing up here and there in the parking lot. I hop in my car and drive over to Slice of Cake. It's right beside the church, and their brookies are pretty delicious. I walk into the tiny shop and order a brookie. I look at the little cupcakes behind the glass: chocolate, red velvet, and strawberry.

The strawberry is a rich pink with a thick hat of strawberry frosting on top. I prefer cream cheese on my strawberry cupcakes. The drive home is about half an hour, and it's a little after one once I arrive home. I scope out the area. Tricks' room is empty as well as Bryants'. I grab Talias' bedroom door, and it's locked. Well, she's home.

I open my bedroom door and start to undress. A hot shower was calling my name. I wet my hair and begin to wash it with some biotin-infused shampoo—my light background music humming in the bathroom. My fingers comb through my hair, and after that's done, I grab my yellow shaver. I wash up and dry off to lotion up and change in my bedroom. My phone vibrated beside me on the bed. The sound of a cash register rings multiple times. I pick up my phone. Two thousand dollars now lie on PayMe, and I press the deposit button. The sound of money and the smell of rose vanilla wafting through the air brings a shady smile to my face.

Once I'm done placing my bath and body products away. I go to my desk to see what's on my schedule. I have to write my English paper, but that shouldn't take me longer than two hours. My English course is online, as well as my history class. They were both easy and, as such, was passing with As in both. I had a history exam coming up, but I wasn't worried so far; I had been doing pretty well on them. The class was light on reading, and I recalled the information pretty well, unlike my anatomy flashcards. ,

I move my planner to the side and open my yellow laptop covered in Naruto stickers and emojis. I start my math homework, and after a few problems, look on mathanswers.com for the answers. I got them all right but one. It was supposed to be a negative, not a positive five. I have work at the Andersons after psychology and aim to get all of my assignments done for the day.

"Give me my phone!" I hear Talia scream. I look at the computer screen and quickly fix my mistake before standing up. I walk over to the door and put my ear up against it.

"Who you texting Talia? Who. You. Texting?" Naveed shouts back just as loud. I'm guessing they didn't know I was home still.

"It ain't none of your business. Now give me my phone." I heard the sounds of a brawl and got damn it there going to make me have to get involved. I hate getting involved. I open the door to Talia's room, and it's a scene not to be seen. Talia and Naveed stand in the middle of the room, with Naveed holding her phone just out of reach.

"What's going on?" I huff out in a quick breath.

"Your sister is texting some dude. I ain't no sidepiece, and I'm sick of your sister shit." Naveed declares as he throws the phone onto the bed.

Talia ignores it. I roll my eyes. "Get out then. Get out if you are so tired. Leave my house. Leave." Talia pushes Naveed out, who doesn't resist all too much. He's out the door, and I expect that to be that. Of course, it isn't. Talia rushes to the back and comes back with a handful of clothes. She throws it on the porch. How typical. She just had to be a basic bitch. "And take your dirty shit. I don't want it stinking up my room no mo-" Talia kicks the clothes around, and Naveed starts to pick them up. She accidentally- I assume kicks him in the face.

"Agh! Shit Talia." He barks out like a mad dog. He stands up and pushes Talia to the ground. She falls backward onto the grass of the front lawn, narrowly missing the gate of the porch's dull but sharp edge. My body moves before I have time to think of a more intelligent course of action. I stand between them and urge Naveed just to go. Talia is up in a second and dashes inside the house. She comes back out with a shark steak knife. Man, I'm hungry. I sigh.

"You think I'm scared. Am I supposed to be scared, Talia?" Naveed says without a trace of fear in his voice.

"I'm scared. I'm scared. I guess nobody cares," I think to myself. "It's five in the afternoon. It's broad daylight. You trying to go to jail, Naveed. Go!" I say out loud, trying to hold back a deranged Talia who still holds the knife in her grasp.

"Why? I'm bruised. She bruised. We are both going to jail." He stutters out in short gasps.

Yeah, that's a valid reason to stick around. I didn't think of that. Dumbass, just like her. "Yeah, but you're still a black man."