Alice Bittencourt

Bip Bip

My attention flicked back to my phone. Another parent looking for a sitter? Well, it doesn’t hurt to check. I picked it up and started scrolling through the new message, and then—

"Five hundred dollars just for the weekend?" I muttered in surprise. Normally, I’m offered something like a hundred. There’s no way I could pass this up. Plus, from the description, the kid didn’t seem too young—probably not one of those snotty, screaming toddlers that drive me up the wall.

*My car looked like a junker compared to the sleek luxury cars lining the streets of this neighborhood. The lawns were pristine, deep green with carefully placed flowers in some yards. "Hey there, kiddo..." My voice trailed off, and my smile faded as confusion washed over me. What the hell? This girl... she looked my age!