Babysitting Woes

• Ashleigh Holowaty, Grade 9, Good Shepherd Christian School
• Short Story
• 2017

Excellence Award in the 'Spread The Word 2017' competition

I threw myself at the window and hoped I'd crash through like they do in the movies. I didn't. I fell down and lay on the ground for a moment, stunned. Maisie ran up with half of a smashed chocolate cake (which she had been strictly told to not touch) in her chubby hands and copied me, only to land sprawled on the floor, having created a brown stain on the brilliant glass. A squeak escaped my lips as I thought of the mess I was going to have to clean. Maisie giggled and ran away. I sighed as I recalled what she had created not ten minutes ago with permanent marker on a pristine painting and scrambled around the mansion, searching for cleaning supplies. Was there a maid who could direct me to the cleaning cupboard? These people looked like they could afford plenty of those. Oh wait – if there was a maid I wouldn't be here.
I turned around and gazed wrathfully at the window I had tried to escape through. This was a perfect torture chamber, complete with the perfect torturer: 2 year-old Maisie Mallon. When would the monster’s parents return? I walked out into the palatial parlour, my eyes darting to find Maisie. Spying a chocolate trail, I followed it and was lead to the fridge, door ajar, cool air escaping. Chocolate handprints seemed to crawl upwards to the chocolate milk carton, which was now missing. I let out a string of frustrated sounds usually acquainted with angry hippopotamuses and ran off to find the munchkin. I ran throughout the huge mansion and passed the garage, which looked fit to house a white horse and golden carriage. Perched in the front seat of a sleek red Ferrari was the brat. Chocolate cake was lovingly plastered all over the steering wheel and on the deluxe leather seat lay a pool of chocolate milk.
I snatched up the tiny delinquent and hauled her off to the trampoline outside which, thank goodness, had a net around it. Once she was safely on, I told her to stay there, not entirely trusting her to do so, and closed the flap to start cleaning. I found the note that Maisie’s parents had left and read a small part – the cleaning supplies are in the room next to the bathroom, just in case. I wouldn't expect it though, seeing as our daughter is an angel for babysitters! An angel, I scoffed to myself. Yeah right! I dashed off to clean up the crime scene and finished just as a stretch limo rolled up the pristine driveway. Maisie's parents strolled inside and smiled at me.
“How was she?” Mrs Mallon inquired sweetly.
“Oh, just perfect!” I said, a fake smile dancing across my lips. Mrs Mallon handed me a crisp $50 note.
“Thank you so much for babysitting, Lily.” She smiled. With my reward in my pocket, I sprinted away and severely hoped I would never again have to babysit that child.