The babysitter

One

"Babysitting two spoiled rich kids, what could go wrong?" I muttered to myself as I walked up the long driveway.

The three story mansion loomed in front of me. There was a plush garden that lined the base of the house. Flowers of all colors and types were standing straight up. A stone path led from the circle driveway to the door. Following the path it led me to a old, oak door. I knocked on the door and took a step back, looking at the trees lining the property. It was a fairly nice day, it was warm with a slight breeze. The air polluted sky had little clouds and smell of crime and trash made me wish for camp. As I was taking in the scenery, an old man opened the door, " May I help you?"

I almost jumped, "Oh, hi, I'm Percy, Percy Jackson. I'm here for the interview or something?"

"Or something?" The old man smiled.

"Sorry, I'm nervous. I'm here for the babysitting interview?" I smiled back. I tried not to give off my trouble maker smile, but that's just my smile.

The man smiled and opened the door more, as he waited for me to come in. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth, I'm the butler."

"Nice to meet you." I shook his out reached hand, following behind him. I muttered. "Wow, a butler. Super rich kids."

Alfred led me through a maze of a house and into an office door. Alfred went in and closed the door behind him. "Wow." I muttered under my breathe. Since there was nothing to look at since it was a grey hallway with oak doors that I wanted to open but couldn't, I just had to stand there. Bouncing on the balls of my feet and drumming my fingers on my legs as my worries and my ADHD mixed together.

"Master Bruce is ready for you." Alfred opens the door and steps out. Seeing my hesitation, he shuts the door. "Miss Jackson?"

Seeing that I needed this job because even the little about of money my mom had stored for me before she passed would only last me till the end of this month before I run out of food and can't pay rent. Even in the worst side of Gotham, it wouldn't take long to get me out on the streets. I needed this job a lot more then I could care to admit. "Does he make you call him master?"

"No, Miss Jackson. But you'll be fine. You seem like a good fit." Alfred smiled, bowed his head and walked off. I took a deep breath in. How could I fight wars but not be able to interview for a job.

I opened the door to a big office. It had plenty of space for a large desk, four chairs, two in front of the desk and two against the far wall, and a big grandfather clock. Next to the clock were cabinets. At the desk sat a man who had broad shoulders and was quite buff. He had dark hair and darker blue eyes, he had no smile wrinkles but maybe the becoming of some. Like he had just got something to smile at recently. I could only assume that the man was Bruce Wayne.

The corners of his mouth pulled upward a little bit, then he gestured to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. "Miss Jackson, take a seat. I was getting nervous one of the boys had scared you off already."

I gave off a nervous laugh and then sat down. Pulling out my resume as he was asking for it. 'So, why do you want this job?"

"Oh, I used to handle a lot of kids at a summer camp, and I love taking care of them." I honestly didn't want this job, more of a need.

"So, I think I remember your name from somewhere. I just can't remember where." Bruce continued to look through my resume as he peered over the top to look at me. I don't know why he kept looking at since it only had my job at McDonald's. I worked there for two months before I got fired, not much to look at.

"Oh, probably because when I was twelve, me and my mom got kidnapped and I was framed for blowing up the St. Louis arch." I fiddled with the hem of my shirt as he set down the paper.

"At twelve? That must have been terrifying." Bruce asked me. Folding his hands in front of him. I'd rather fight a monster then go through this.

"Yeah, it was, but my mom helped me through it all." I smiled at the memory of my mom. An older women who was always beautiful. She had curly hair and the most beautiful smile.

"I bet she must be proud of how far you've come." Mr. Wayne reassures.

"I bet she was." I smiled. I didn't want to spill my whole sob story to a guy I never met, especially at a job interview.

"Bruce decided to over look the 'was', or didn't process it because he moved on. "So, you took care of a lot of kids at your camp?"

"Yes, I was actually the cabin counselor. And I got certified in CPR because I was a life guard there." Technically I was the counselor since I was the oldest one there. Was I the only one there, yes, but that didn't matter.

"What is this camp called again?" Mr. Wayne asks.

My mind blanked since I can't exactly call it Camp Half-Blood, because what are you half of? I gave off a laugh that I hope wasn't too nervous. "I honestly don't remember, it's been a long time since I was there and I think they turned it into a strawberry field."

Bruce took this in, nodding his head. "How would you describe yourself?"

I went with the most obvious. "I feel like I'm pretty loyal, determined and maybe witty." Witty and sarcasm are the same thing, right?

Bruce nodded again and he gave my resume back. "Well, Miss Jackson, I think that is all I will need today. I'll let you know within the next few days. Alfred will show you out."

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne." I shook his hand then stepped out of the office. I let out a breath then noticed Alfred standing there. "Whoah, you're like a ninja."

He almost laughed, a smile pulled at his lips.  "Thank you, Miss Jackson. How do you think it went?"

I sighed, not knowing if I should actually tell him or not. "It went okay. I guess we'll see in a few days, won't we?"

This time, Alfred laughed lightly. "But I have a feeling Master Bruce liked you. You see very trustworthy."

"Thank you, Alfred." I smiled and walked out the door. As I rounded the corner after walking down the driveway, a blue car pulled into the driveway. I shrugged and started walking to the middle class side of Gotham. In my short time of living here, I have found that there is three classes of Gotham. The rich people, then good poor people and the bad poor people. The bad poor people have the same as the good poor people, they just stole it or are overall a bad person.

And hopefully I worked for a family of rich people because I need it.

1238 words

3/26/21

Yay, new story to add to my eleven already. Slow updates btw

Pieces angels and stay safe.