Babysitting the Bad Boy's Little Brother

Chapter 1

Emma's POV

I woke up to a very glistening warm sun shining through my window, making a small part on my bed feel toasty. I knew there was a potential for a good day, after all, there always is. The alarm on my phone vibrated and showed 7:30 am. I'm normally not a morning person, but it is part of a new thing I'm trying. Instead of sleeping in, I'm trying to be more active by running more and exploring nature. As a job, I babysit kids. I have been out of a job for the past two weeks and I miss the kids. That's the best part of what I do. It's only the first week of June, which marks two weeks since I finished my junior year. I went into the spacious bathroom across the hall in my house to take a shower.

After I showered, I went back into my room to change into a tank top and some, rather short for my liking, black Nike shorts. Then I sat down at my pretty-lighted vanity and brushed my light brown hair into a ponytail. Then, I applied some mascara, eyeshadow, and lip gloss.

I headed out of the front door when I was done getting ready, grabbing my keys before getting into my car and driving to the park. I should get some exercise today, otherwise, this new goal thing will not work. Plus, it was a beautiful, warm summer day and it was not worth wasting by sitting inside the house and watching Netflix. I arrived at the park at a little past eight and couldn't help but be amazed by the park's beautiful scenery as I started walking around. I've only been to this park a few times, so I did not know the location well. I started walking around the trail that outlines the park for half a mile, then I became tired and stopped to sit down on a bench. After a few minutes of sitting down and drinking water out of my thermos, I noticed that there was a playground near the bench and decided to walk over to it. I love watching little kids play. Nostalgia brings me back to the early years of my childhood.

I watched two boys slide down the slide, one after another, and they almost collided with each other. They didn't hit hard enough to cry, but instead laughed when they climbed off to do it again. I looked over at the swings, my favorite part of a park as a child, and saw a cute little girl who seemed to be around six years old walk towards the large swing set in the middle of the playground. She sat in a swing and was sort of struggling to get the swing moving. No one else was on the swings, and I wondered where her mother was.

After almost two minutes, I come to the conclusion that she is alone and no one is going to help her so I walk towards the swing set and sit on the swing across from hers. "What's your name?" I ask her.

"My name is Sophie. I love pink. And I'm this many." She held up six fingers. Surprisingly, I was right. "What's your name?" She asked me.

"Emma," I reply.

"Emma, I like your name. It is pretty."

"Thank you. I like yours too," I tell her and she giggles.

The girl looked like a mini version of me when I was that age. Skinny with light brown hair and greenish eyes. She had on a pink shirt with giraffe print leggings. She looked adorable. "Do you want me to push you on the swing?" I asked her, although I figured she could eventually push herself.

"Yes, I do. I just need you to push me a little, I've got it from there." She said. I figured she might need a little help. She's a smart little girl to only be six. I did as she said and pushed her a few times. "You can let go now. I am going really high!" She exclaims and I stop pushing her.

"Okay, just remember to be careful and not to go too high," I told her. And she was careful. I watched as she effortlessly pumped her legs back and forth in the air for a few minutes. After a while, she got tired.

"Can you stop me now? I'm getting a little dizzy." She said. Sophie is a lot like myself, for I still get dizzy when I swing. I grabbed the chains of the swing and stopped her. "Thank you for swinging me, Emma. I had fun. My mom is over there, can you take me to her?" She asks.

Her mother was standing against the tree in front of us smiling. I wondered if she was keeping an eye on her daughter. I don't know how long she's been standing there but I hope she doesn't think I'm a crazy woman who wants to abduct her kid.

"Thank you for taking care of my daughter. Hey, we are going to the ice cream parlor a few blocks down to get some ice cream, would you like to join us?" The mother asks me and I almost do a double-take. I've never had a stranger ask me if I wanted to join her and her daughter to eat ice cream before.

"Yes, I would ma'am," I awkwardly reply and hope this isn't as awkward as I think it is.

"Oh, please sweetheart, call me Kate."

***

The ice cream was delicious. I loved the unicorn sundae. Her mother tried to pay for my dessert, but I insisted on paying. I am independent and don't let others do things for me that I can do for myself. My mom was that way. Independent. She didn't need a man to do everything for her. She had me almost at seventeen and raised me on her own.

My mom split from my dad after he refused to take care of me when I was a baby because he didn't want me and had better things to do than to be a dad to me. They married for me, but the marriage only lasted a couple of months. He didn't want a family, wasn't ready, mature enough. My father never grew up. He was seventeen at the time of my birth, a typical bad boy, wanting freedom and slept with girls for fun. He vaped, drank alcohol in high school, and always broke the rules. My father later ran away and cheated on my mother. She was cheated on multiple times by him, with worthless women, even when they were together. He was always drinking and had been selfish his whole life. Never cared about anyone nor anything.

When I was eleven my mom got diagnosed with stage three breast cancer. She had less than two years to live if she even had that. She had wanted me to know the dark pasts of her life before she was gone, so I'd know not to repeat her mistakes. She decided to tell me everything she thought I should know before she died (before I turned thirteen).

My mother's parents tried to convince her into abortion since she was so young, a kid herself, but she wouldn't budge. She refused to take someone's life who hasn't had a chance to live or be loved. I was holding her hand when she died. Barely thirty years old. My mom, dead.
She taught me many things. One was not to rely on a man, especially one such as her baby daddy. That's why I've never had a boyfriend and will not intend to have one. I'm fine with having guy friends and hanging out, but I could never afford something so serious for it to easily be thrown away like mom's relationship.

***

I went home and turned on Netflix. I had eaten too much unicorn barf today to even look at the ice cream in the freezer. I walked into the kitchen to get me a glass of milk and popped some buttered popcorn. I started watching The Fosters, catching up to the finale that will be on this Sunday at 8/7 eastern time. Only six days away! After a good hour or two into it, I found myself getting sleepy and my eyes slightly closing, even though I fought the thought of sleep, but ended up drifting off into a deep sleep.