Chapter Six

Lillian was taking notes as I spoke, and before I knew it. I had helped her write a three page paper on the similarities between lions and African-Americans. I looked at my watch, eleven fifty-five. Her parents would be home shortly. Lillian put her paper away as I walked downstairs, stopping at a family portrait. Mr.Anderson was a tall, white man with dirty, blonde hair and brown eyes, while Mrs.Anderson had a lighter shade of blonde and blue eyes. The twins’ Henley and Hunter were spitting images of each other, with Henley's hair being straight and going to her back while Hunter had a short haircut. Lillian stood apart with her hazel eyes, fuller lips, and suntanned skin.

Lillian came down the steps stooping beside me to look at the picture before going ahead of me downstairs. I followed her into the kitchen. She took out two chocolate Yoo-hoos, offering me one. "Your dad, he's black," I stated more than asked.

Lillian nodded her head, "I don't know much about him. He and my mom met, and well, you know- fucked."

"I did not need to hear that coming from her mouth," I thought to myself.

"It was a long time, obviously- I'm sixteen. I turn seventeen in two weeks. My mom has only ever said it didn't work out, and she raised me and then met Julian and years later came the tweebs." Lillian finished. I heard a click and then the push of the front door being opened.

I tossed my finished Yoo-hoo in the trash as Mr. and Mrs.Anderson walked into the kitchen. "Lillian, hey. How was your day? Did you complete your homework? How were the twins Mi'a? No trouble, I'm sure." Mrs.Anderson spoke as Mr.Anderson took Melody out to use the bathroom.

"They were great as usual. They did their homework and played nicely." I answered first.

"Yes, perfect children," Lillian said with a frown and roll of her eyes. She walked away as her mother called her name.

"Sorry, you have to see that Lillian can be. . .difficult. You think being sixteen; she would act like it." Mrs.Anderson sighed.

"Disobedient and difficult. That sounds like sixteen to me." I replied as I picked up my bag.

Mrs.Anderson smiled at me, "Yes, I suppose you're right."

My Lyft arrived in less than five minutes. Mrs.Anderson had already paid me through the SitForMe app. I received one hundred and twenty plus a twenty-dollar tip. The money would hit my bank account in less than three days. SitForMe was a babysitting app for college students that hooked us up with families to babysit for. They were the link between sitters and families, and they received ten percent of the sitters’ fee. A small price to pay considering the Andersons paid me twenty an hour.

. . . . . . . . . .

Ugh, an off day. I love off days. It was Tuesday, and I didn't go back to school until tomorrow. I will enjoy my day off, for sure. I will get up early, eat breakfast, do some laundry, go to the carwash, the mall, maybe with Pearl. Yes, today was all about me.

"Trick, you ass! Give me back my hot Cheetos!" Talia shouted. I heard a bang and then a clang. There goes my quiet morning. I slammed my pillow over my head, deciding breakfast could be replaced with a few extra hours of sleep. "Mi'a, have you seen my shirt? The one with the. . ."

Or not. "I don't know. Check Courtney's laundry." I sighed.

"See, this is what I'm talkin' 'bout nobody knows anything when it comes to my stuff missing, but then I'm the guilty party when other people's stuff goes missing." Talia nagged, slamming my door shut.

What did I do wrong God to wind up with such an annoying family? They're just so unlike me. They smoke. I don't. They sleep around. I don't. They get tattoos. I get money. They stay broke. I don't. Are you starting to see some dissimilarities? I get out of bed and stretch. My arms rising to the ceiling and down to the floor. I brush my teeth in my bathroom and wash my face with my honey and cocoa butter wash. It's so good. It smells exactly like honey and is made with honey.

I decided on black Nike leggings, a white top, and my soft, yellow Nike hoodie for today’s wear. My laid-back afro is puffed back up with some coconut leave-in conditioner and my pick. I apply some honey and cocoa butter perfume. It's a set, and I exit my room.

I'm the first in the kitchen, and I grab my needed breakfast items: Turkey sausages, butter, blueberries, and a cheese stick. Babysitting was excellent and not just for the money or because half of the kids I watched couldn't talk or, should I say, talk back. It was because I learned so much. I started eating more organic foods, had intellectual conversations with the parents, and formed contacts that could help me in the long run.

"Ugh, you white people eating again?" Talia said, holding up my light, white cheese stick. I flipped my sausages in the pan and turned around to grab my cheese from her.

"No, I'm just eating, and this is healthy eating. It’s a common misinterpretation that healthy eating is only associated with white people-”

"So, you're white people eating again?" Talia interrupted my lecture with a devilish grin.

I flipped my sausages one more time, "Yeah."