The Hoodie Girl

Chapter 3

Wren

I'm procrastinating and I know it. I mean, I have an insane amount of homework, including calculus and a history essay, but why not just read for a few hours and push homework to the back of your mind for later, right? Maybe I should procrastinate a little less.

Oh well, I'll work on my procrastination issues another day.

I get halfway through the book before the guilt overrides the pleasure, and I end up researching sources for the history essay, and then completing it. When my hair starts to get in the way, I tie it into a French braid and secure it with a white ribbon at the end. The once-blank page is now filled with my black handwriting. Blowing the imaginary dust off of my polished essay, I tuck it into a folder in my bag to hand in.

I've decided I will simply avoid Asher Reed for the rest of the school year. Oh, scratch that. I'm going to avoid that boy for the rest of my life. I'll never be able to live that embarrassing interaction down.

It's been a week but I'm still reeling from our brief encounter. I avoid him at all costs, even when he's just a distant speck in the school hallway. Right now, though, I don't have much time to dwell on it. My babysitting customer's showing up in under an hour, and I couldn't be more thankful for the distraction. I need extra cash, and with school to worry about, this is the best I can do.

I told Mia I needed the money for books, which was only partly true. During the summer, I researched college textbook costs and I almost fell off my chair. Wait, I might've actually fallen off my chair. I decided then and there that if I was going to college, I needed to start planning. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to have a little extra cash to spare.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Racing downstairs, I open the door to find my first babysitting customer, Victoria, on the other side. She has kind eyes and a warm smile. Her light hair is pulled back into a low bun at the nape of her neck.

"Hi," she says. "Wren?"

I manage a smile. "That's me."

Lowering my gaze, I find a sweet, dimpled girl wearing a fairy dress hiding behind her mom. The girl's mouth is a puckered rosebud, and concern marks her soft, baby features.

"I love your dress," I say.

She releases her mother's legs hesitantly, looking up at me with hazel eyes that take up half her face. "Really?"

"Yep." I nod. "I can give you some fairy wings to match, if you like."

The girl looks up at her mom, then back at me, before dipping her head once. Then twice. Her movements are animated, and combined with those huge eyes, she might as well be a Pixar character.

"Wren," Victoria says, "this is Everly. Everly, Wren. She's going to look after you until Mommy comes back. Don't trouble her too much, okay?"

"Okay." Everly glances at me then pushes faintly at the back of her mom's legs. "You can go now. I won't trouble her, promise."

Victoria glances at me with a smile. "I'll be back at six."

I nod. "No problem."

The older woman's heels connect with the pavement of our driveway as she strides back to her car, opens her door with a smooth click, and slips in before reversing. Her Mercedes glides over the asphalt like butter, and soon she's nothing but a speck in the suburban distance. Anxious energy radiates off the little girl next to me; her bravado has no doubt worn off.

"So, Everly." I lean down and bundle her in my arms as I walk into the house. "What would you like to do today?"

She tilts her head, scrunching her features as her four-year-old mind forgets the worry, and a bit of that fluttery fairy energy returns. "Can we watch SpongeBob?"