By: Lauren Taylor
I thought that night would be a challenge of a lifetime. Why, I asked myself over and over, did I take the job. Isis couldnít take it because she had an important date with Twister. Mallory couldnít take it because she had to sing at the old folks home that night. Reggie couldnít take it because she had to help Ray take inventory on his store. Yeah, so it all came down to me, Savannah Alexis Morgan. And let me tell you, it has changed my whole out look on kids.
It all started out when I got a call from Isis. "Hey Sunny, can I ask you for a huge favor?" she asked. "How huge?" I was hesitant; huge didnít sound too promising.
"I need you to babysit a little guy for me; his name is Trevor Wilson. Heís really quiet, and not very bothersome. Heís about seven years old, I think. I always babysit him for the Wilsonís, but I have a really important date with Twist tonight. I would be really thankful if you would babysit him," she asked pleadingly. I thought for a minute. What the heck, she would have done the same for me. "Sure," I told her. How hard could it be? "Thanks so much! Iíll call Mrs. Wilson and tell her Iíll pick Trevor up in about an hour. Iíll swing by your house around 6:30, okay?" she explained. "Okay, see you then," I replied. "Thanks so much, Sunny, I owe you one!"
In about an hour and a half I heard my doorbell ring. I put down my bowl of Easy Mac and went to open the door. There stood Isis and Trevor, a small, kinda shrimpy kid with reddish brown hair. "Hey Isis. And you must be Trevor. Whatís up, little dude?" I held out my hand for a low-five. He grabbed Isisí hand and quickly darted behind her. "Heís shy," Isis whispered. "Heís adorable! Weíre going to have a lot of fun tonight, Trevor!" I assured him. "Hereís some emergency numbers Mrs. Wilson gave me to give to you. Well, gotta go, Iím already ten minutes late to Twisterís! You guys have fun!" she said as she bid adieu.
"Well Trevor, itís nice to meet you. Iím Sunny. Is there anything in particular youíd like to do?" I asked him patiently. "No thanks, Iíll just sit here and draw," he replied quietly. Sweet kid, I thought. I finished my bowl of Easy Mac as I sat and watched TV for about an hour, almost forgetting he was there. I looked at him. He looked so peaceful, just sitting there drawing away. "Want anything to drink or eat? We have root beer, Coke, Sprite, you name it," I asked him. He shook his head,
"No thank you. But, do you have any more of that macaroni? That looked kind of good," he asked shyly. "Yeah sure, Iíll go make you some. Sure you donít want anything to drink?" I asked again. He nodded, "If itís not too much trouble."
I put the Easy Mac in the microwave and went back into the living room. "What do you want to drink?" He sat and thought for a second or two. "Some root beer, please," he replied. Very polite, I thought. Most kids are like, "Gimme some root beer!" I fixed him some root beer and sat it on the coffee table in front of him. I heard the microwaveís long "beeeeeep!" and sauntered back into the kitchen. I brought the macaroni into the living room and sat it beside the root beer. He dug into it as fast as he could. "Boy, you were hungry, huh?" I asked surprisingly. He nodded, "This is good! Macaroni is my favorite food."
I noticed a small notebook lying on the coffee table labeled, "Drawings." "Can I look at your drawings," I asked him. "Uh huh. I mean, yes Mam," he replied. "Hey, you donít have to say Ďyes Mamí to me. I donít want you to anyway. It makes me feel like an old lady," I told him. He let out a high pitched giggle and said, "Your funny!" I noticed there was some cheese smeared on his face. I decided to make a funny out of it. "Well, guess what, youíre funny too, Mr. Cheesy face!" He gave me a bewildered look. I handed him a compact lying on the TV stand. He looked in the mirror and laughed even harder than before.
From then on, Trevor and I were talking as if we had known each other for years.
I told him about Otto (my boyfriend), and how we had met. Usually kids get bored and fall asleep with that stuff, but Trevor listened, as if he too was a teenager. When I told him about the wreck, his eyes got wide. I told him about the time Otto and his friends made a band when they were kids, and it worked for a while, but it turned out to be a flop in the end. After a while, the phone rang. I picked up the receiver and what do you know, on the other end was Otto. "Hey, what are you doing?" he asked. I had an idea. I looked over at Trevor, winked, and said,
"Talking to my new boyfriend. You?" "What? Who?" Otto asked. "You wanna find out for yourself? Here he is," I told him. I gave the phone to Trevor. "Hey, Otto, you better leave. Sunny is my girlfriend now!" he giggled into the receiver. I could hear Otto let out a sigh. "Well, dude, whatís your name?" Otto asked. "Trevor Alexander Wilson the third," he replied with pride. "Well, mister Trevor Alexander Wilson number three, youíd better leave Sunny alone or youíll expect a whomping!" Otto told him sarcastically. Trevor laughed so hard he had tears coming from his eyes. "Can Otto come over? Can he, please?" Trevor pleaded.
"Yeah, please?" I heard Otto say over the reciever. I shook my head, "I canít sweetie. My dad wonít let me have people in the house if Iím alone unless itís Isis." "And me," he corrected. "Yeah, and you." "Will you please call him and ask? Please, please, please?" he begged. I finally agreed. "Otto, Iíll call you back and give you the full story, okay?" I hung up with Otto and called my dad. I explained to him, and he just laughed. "Okay, but not long. Iíll be home in a couple of hours anyway," dad said. I hung up as Trevor awaited me for the news, "What did he say?" I nodded, "Okay." I called Otto, explained, and he drove over.
As soon as Otto walked in, Trevor got quiet. "Youíre a big guy," he said as he hid behind me and held my hand. I assured him Otto was safe and he wasnít going to hurt him. Otto held out his hand for a low-five. "Wiggle your fingers," Otto said. "Why?" Trevor asked. "Itís a secret handshake," Otto replied, "Now go Ďwoogie, woogie, woogie!í" "Woogie, woogie, woogie!" Trevor laughed. "Youíre a cool dude!" Trevor told him.
"Thanks, bro! Tell me something I donít know," Otto said egotistically. Bad thing to say to a little kid, they take everything so literally. "Well, Sunny told me some things about you. She thinks you have cool hair and nice shades, and something about shiny, glittering green eyes. She thinks you have a cute butt, too," he spilled the beans. I felt so stupid, yet I didnít know where he had gotten that bit of information. "I never said that!" I said, embarrassed. "You did when you were talking on the phone to Isis. I heard you when you were on speaker phone," he said truthfully. "Well, the fact canít be denied. But donít tell you mom about that, okay? She might not take it too kindly," I told him.
About an hour later, Isis rang on my doorbell. "Hey, Iím here to pick up Trevor. I hope he did okay. Why is Otto here?" she asked. "Itís a long story. I call you tonight and explain it to you," I told her. "Do I have to leave?" Trevor asked. "Yes, you have to go home and get ready for bed. Your mom is probably missing you by now," Isis said, "Thanks for keeping him, I owe you." "It was a pleasure," I said. "Well, my Ďdaddyí is probably missing me, so Iíd better go too. Heck, itís almost past my bedtime," Otto said sarcastically. He kissed me goodnight, then walked out to his car.
"Ewww, thatís gross!" Trevor yelled from Isisí car. I laughed, waved goodbye, and went back into the house. As I was sitting down to watch my favorite old nightly sitcoms, I noticed Trevor had left his drawing notebook on the coffee table. I picked it up and opened it to look inside. There was a picture of me sitting in the recliner eating Easy Mac watching TV. Pretty good for a seven-year-old, I thought. Beside it said, "New best friend." How sweet. I guess not all kids are curtain climbers.
Later on I called Isis, and told her everything, even about the notebook. She laughed and said, "He never talks that much when I babysit him, and Iíve been babysitting him for three months! Youíve really got a thing with kids." I might start babysitting more often. It seemed kind of fun. I canít believe I dreaded it so much. Well, I think Iíve found a new part-time job, and a new little friend, too.