The Sitter

by R. L. Stine

  She had dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, and that awesome tan, real or not. She wore a brightly colored flowery beach cover-up over a key lime one-piece bathing suit. Coral-colored plastic bracelets jangled on her wrist as she walked.

  She flashed me a warm smile and took my hand in both of hers. “Ellie, hi. Thanks for coming out. As I told you in town, Chip and I are really desperate to hire a new nanny.”

  She eased herself down on one of the white leather couches and motioned for me to sit beside her. “I see Chip has helped himself. Can I get you anything to drink? A Diet Coke or something?”

  “No. No thanks. I’m fine.”

  She glanced up at her husband. “What are you drinking?”

  “Gin and tonic. Want one?”

  She glanced at the silver clock on the end table. “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon.”

  Chip laughed. “Are you scolding me? I need one for the road.” He sat down across from us in a wicker chair and rattled the ice in his glass. He grinned at me. “I’m not an alcoholic—I just love to drink!” He laughed.

  Abby shook her head. “Chip, no one ever laughs at that joke. No one else thinks it’s funny.”

  “It’s funny,” he muttered. He winked at me. “You think it’s funny, don’t you, Ellie?”

  I cleared my throat. I didn’t reply.

  Abby took my hand. “So, Ellie, tell me all about yourself. Do you really want this job?”

  “Well . . . yes,” I said. And then I started my sales pitch, the pitch I had been rehearsing all through lunch. I’m very good with kids, and kids always love me yada yada yada . . .

  Abby listened intently, her dark eyes never leaving mine. She played with her plastic bracelets as I talked. “What are you doing now?” she asked. “Do you have to give notice somewhere?”

  “No. I’m only temping. I moved to New York last year, and I’ve been temping since I got here.”

  “She’s from Wisconsin,” Chip chimed in. “I don’t think she’s ever seen the ocean before!”

  “Well, actually, I have. My aunt used to have a house on the Jersey shore, so my family visited her several summers.”

  “That’s not like the Hamptons,” Chip said, shaking his head. “That’s like, ‘Let’s go hang out at the tattoo parlor and drink a couple of Budweisers.’ ”

  “Don’t listen to Mr. Snob,” Abby said playfully. “A few years ago, he’d have been thrilled with the Jersey shore.”

  Chip rubbed his stubble of beard and muttered something into his glass.

  “Ellie, where did you go to college?” Abby asked.

  Should I lie?

  Should I tell the truth?

  Yes. They seem really nice. Maybe the truth.

  I mean, part of the truth. Only part.

  “I didn’t go to college,” I said softly. “I was accepted at a bunch of colleges. But I had to go to work. My father got sick, and I had to help support my family.”

  Okay. That part is a lie.

  I mean, I really was all set to go to school at the university in Madison.

  And then Will—

  The thing with Will—

  It changed everything. And I could barely face the world, barely drag myself out of bed each morning.

  It took so long to get on with my life. So many years . . .

  So many long, miserable, blank years.

  “Tell me about the kids,” I said. “There are two of them, right?”

  Abby nodded. “Yes, Heather turned two last week. She’s wonderful.”

  Chip snickered. “She’ll keep you busy. You’ll spend a lot of time chasing after her.”

  “And then there’s Brandon,” Abby said. She let go of her bracelets and shifted her position on the couch. “We have kind of a difficult situation here.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Uh . . . How do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well . . .” She hesitated. “How should I put this? Brandon is four, and up till a few weeks ago, he was fine. But . . . a few weeks ago . . . well . . . he stopped talking.”

  Abby stopped there. I think she was waiting for me to react. But I kept my face thoughtful, intent, and didn’t say a word.

  “He just went silent. We don’t know why, Ellie. Not a clue.” She brushed a tear from her eye with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to get emotional. But . . . it’s been hard.”

  Chip stood up and moved over to us. He squeezed Abby’s shoulder lovingly. “We have a psychiatrist here three times a week,” he said. “Dr. Kleiner. He’s been working with Brandon. Trying to figure out what upset the poor little guy.”

  “But he hasn’t made much progress,” Abby said, her voice breaking. She raised her dark eyes to mine. “Brandon has to be looked after constantly. I don’t want him left alone.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I understand.”

  “Hey, I think you should meet the kids,” Chip said. “They’re upstairs. I’ll go bring ’em down.” He set down his glass and trotted to the stairs, his bare feet thudding against the shiny wood floor.

  Abby smiled reassuringly at me. “I think you’ll really like them,” she whispered.

  I pushed myself to the edge of the couch. It was so soft, I found it impossible to sit up straight.

  I could hear Chip upstairs. “Come on down, kids. I want you to meet someone.”

  “Carry me!” said a little voice that had to be Heather. Then footsteps came clumping down the stairs.

  This is a horror story, remember.

  You know that, right? That this is a horror story I’m telling you.

  Well, here come the two kids.

  And there’s poor, innocent me, sitting there on the edge of the couch, waiting. Clueless as can be.

  And this is where the horror begins.

  10

  Chip carried Heather on his shoulders. She held on to his ears and bounced as he walked.

  Brandon hung behind his father, as if trying to hide. He was a pale, slight boy, small for four, with serious, dark eyes, wild, curly, black hair that I immediately wanted to run my hand through, and a pointed, elfish nose.

  “Hi, guys!” I said.

  They both ignored me.

  “This is Ellie, your new nanny,” Abby told them.

  Chip set Heather down on the floor in front of me. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress over her diaper. She had fine, blond hair, a bright red butterfly barrette pinned at the top of her head. She had a round face and looked exactly like a tiny blond version of Chip.

  “Well, you’re a real cutie! You and I are going to have a lot of fun all summer,” I said. I started to pick her up—and she burst into tears.

  Bad start.

  Abby took the sobbing baby from me and held her. “Heather, what’s wrong?”

  Chip laughed. “Ellie, you’re hired. You have a way with kids!”

  “Stop it, Chip,” Abby snapped. “You’re not funny.” She turned to me. “You have to ignore his sense of humor. Everyone else does.”

  Chip picked up his drink and finished it—ice cubes, too.

  Heather instantly stopped crying. She put her finger in her mother’s nose and laughed.

  “Heather is a little shy with new people,” Abby explained to me. “After a few days, she’ll be poking her finger in your nose, too.”

  We both laughed.

  All the while, Brandon stared at us blankly. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his baggy shorts. He kept biting the inside of his mouth.

  It didn’t take a genius to tell that the poor kid was miserable.

  What does that to a four-year-old kid? What happened to Brandon Harper?

  “Hi, Brandon. I’m Ellie,” I said, bending down to be closer to him. “Do you like to go to the beach?”

  Nothing.

  I took his hand. It was ice cold. “Brandon, you know, where I come from—in Wisconsin—there are no ocean beaches. Do you believe that? No ocean at all. So I can’t wait to go to the beach. I want to spend hours and hours
at the ocean. After I move in here, do you think you could take me to the beach and show me how to play there?”

  He just stared at me with those joyless eyes. Ancient eyes on a little boy’s face.

  Did it creep me out? Yes. But at least this job would be a challenge. It wouldn’t be a boring baby-sitting job. Maybe I’d be the one to get through to this troubled boy.

  Yes. Think on the bright side for once, Ellie. The job will be a challenge. This was my new, positive personality at work. After so many years of aimlessness and unhappiness, I was going to change my attitude—and change my life.

  “You and I are going to be good friends,” I told Brandon, letting go of his cold hand.

  “Brandon will love to show you the beach,” Abby said. “He likes to build big castles and forts there.”

  “Me build, too,” Heather chimed in.

  “Oh, I know what would be good,” Abby said. “Brandon, take Ellie up to your room and show her the new present your dad brought you.”

  “A present?” I said. “I’d love to see it, Brandon.”

  He shrugged and jammed his hands back in his pockets.

  “Go ahead,” Chip said, giving the boy a gentle shove. “Show Ellie what I brought you. Go!” He didn’t hide his impatience.

  Brandon stared at me.

  “I’d love to see your room,” I said.

  Finally, he turned and started walking to the stairs. I glimpsed Abby and Chip nodding to each other, pleased that their son was cooperating.

  Score one for me.

  I followed Brandon up the stairs. The wooden steps were steep and slippery, highly polished. He used the banister to pull himself up.

  The long hall at the top had several doorways to the left. I peered over the balcony and saw Chip and Abby conferring, Abby talking in a hushed tone, Chip nodding his head.

  I guessed they were deciding about me.

  Brandon’s room was the second door. It was bright and spacious, and the white rug on the floor was cluttered with action figures, games, picture books, wooden puzzles, and a lot of toys I didn’t recognize.

  “Wow! What an awesome room!” I said. “I love that horse poster over your bed, Brandon. Do you like horses?”

  No response.

  He disappeared into the closet. I heard a cheep cheep. He came out cradling a tiny yellow baby chick in his hands. He carried it over to me and held it up so I could see it.

  “How adorable,” I said. “A baby chick. Where do you keep it? In a cage?”

  He nodded.

  “Can I pet it?” I reached out a finger and stroked the chick’s fuzzy back. “So soft.”

  Gauzy white curtains fluttered at the half-open window. I crossed the room. “Brandon, can you see the ocean from your window?”

  Nothing. Nada.

  I stepped up to the window and pushed the curtains aside. “Wow! Amazing!”

  The window faced the back of the house. I could see a small, sandy yard, a sloping dune with a row of pine trees at the top. Half-hidden behind the trees was a small, shingled structure. A storage shed. Or maybe a guest house.

  And then, beyond the little house, another dune. And then, a wide, sandy beach—deserted as far as I could see—and the tossing blue ocean.

  “Brandon, you can see the ocean from your room. It’s gorgeous! And you can hear it. What a wonderful sound. And you can smell it! Isn’t that exciting? To live so close to the ocean? Isn’t that awesome?”

  No reply, of course.

  I turned and took a few steps back to where he was standing in the center of the room. “Brandon? Is something wrong? Why do you have that weird look on your face?”

  Then I lowered my gaze.

  And stared at the wet, yellow fuzz in Brandon’s fist.

  “You—you squeezed it—”

  Slowly, Brandon uncurled his fingers. The chick’s lifeless head flopped over the side of his hand, like the limp finger of a glove. The chick’s little body was a pulpy, yellow mess.

  “You squeezed too hard, Brandon.” My voice escaped in a choked whisper. “Didn’t you realize? You squeezed it too hard.”

  His face remained blank. His intense eyes locked on mine. And then, slowly, very slowly, he lowered his gaze. And stared at the mangled chick.

  Then he tilted his head back and started to laugh.

  11

  How can I describe what it felt like to see Ellie after all this time?

  How can I describe the shock? The disbelief that she could return to my life this way?

  Of course, I had to hide my feelings. And I did a good job of it. I pulled down a mask and kept it in place.

  But behind the mask, I was seething, churning.

  How could this happen?

  It’s as if my thoughts had come true.

  I’ve been thinking about her a lot. Thinking about how much I hate her. Thinking about what she did to me.

  No, I haven’t been able to lose the anger. I’ve carried it with me all these years. I’ve spent my life—my whole damn life—angry and unhappy, thanks to that bitch. That skinny, lying bitch.

  She’s ruined so much of my life. Ruined so many nights. Ruined so many years.

  And there she was, walking into the house.

  Stepping right out of my nightmares and back into my life.

  Sitting in my living room in that expensive suit, so prim and pretty, as if I don’t know what she’s really like.

  There she was, sitting in my living room, talking to my kids. So eager. So fucking eager.

  Looking right at me. Smiling at me.

  Looking right into the face of the person who hates her the most in the world.

  Doesn’t she even remember me?

  That’s what pissed me off more than anything. That’s what made me want to strangle her in front of everyone.

  Has she forgotten?

  Has she?

  Has she forgotten what she did to me? How she killed me?

  Well, I haven’t forgotten.

  I acted so calm, so polite, so friendly to her.

  And, of course, I had to hire her.

  Yes, I kept the mask in place. I kept myself hidden from view.

  How could she not know me?

  How could she not remember?

  I was so nice. “Yes, Ellie, you have the job. Yes, Ellie, please start as soon as you can. Yes, Ellie. Yes.”

  And all the time, questions kept going through my head.

  Could I fuck her up really bad?

  Could I kill her?

  Could I?

  I might be angry enough.

  I just might.

  Part Two

  12

  Hey, Teresa. I just finished unpacking. My room is small, but it’s really nice.”

  “Which side of the house are you on? Can you see the ocean?”

  “It is so not to be believed. I’m upstairs, right? I can see over the little guest house to the beach. It’s an incredible view. And it smells so good. I feel like I’m on a boat.”

  “I’m so jealous. They had more cutbacks at the office. Do you believe it—now I’m reporting to two people. I’ve got like double the work. And no raise or anything.”

  “You should quit and come out here and live on the beach, Teresa.”

  “Oh, sure. And what about my career?”

  “Hey, sorry. I was just joking.”

  “Ha. So was I. My career is a joke. I’m going nowhere fast.”

  “Hey, don’t sound so down. This is our party summer, remember? When are you coming out?”

  “I’ll be out this weekend, Ellie. Maybe you can give me a tour of the fabulous beach house. What are you doing today?”

  “First thing I’ve got to do is go shopping. I don’t have a thing. I don’t even own a bathing suit.”

  “Where are you going to shop? Are they letting you drive their car?”

  “They lent me my own—do you believe it? It’s a little white Taurus, very cute. It’s for me to use and to drive the kids around in.�
��

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot there were kids involved. How’s it going?”

  “Well, you know. I just got here yesterday. The little girl is adorable, but very demanding. I guess all two-year-olds are. The little boy is . . . well, weird. He just stares at me with this blank look on his face. He never talks.”

  “Weird is right. Listen, go into Easthampton. There’s a shop called Scoop. You’ll love it. Great bathing suits. Everything you need to be a Hamptons person.”

  “Teresa, I’m laughing. Do I want to be a Hamptons person?”

  “Of course. Listen to me. Scoop. They’ve got the best jeans there. You know. Seven. The ones that make any woman’s booty look like J. Lo’s. Great tops, too. Lots of tie-dyed stuff. Everyone is tie-dyed this summer. And they have silver chain belts to go with your jeans.”

  “Where would I be without you? But I’m not going that way. I have to go to Southampton and pick up some things for Abby.”

  “She’s the wife? How is she? Nice?”

  “Yes. She’s been wonderful to me. She told me there’s a department store there. It’s called . . . uh . . . I wrote it down. . . . Hildreth’s. She said I could probably buy a cat bed there.”

  “A cat bed? They won’t give you a real bed?”

  “Ha ha. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Teresa. I need a favor.”

  “And it involves a cat bed?”

  “Well . . . yeah. The Harpers are letting me bring my old cat, Lucky, out here. Remember? I told you about Lucky?”

  “Only every time I talk to you.”

  “I miss him so much. Mom sent him to my cousin Marsha in Connecticut. If Marsha brings Lucky to you in the city in a week or so, can you bring him out to me?”

  “Does he bite?”

  “No, of course he doesn’t bite. He’s a sweet old cat. You’ll love him to death.”

  “Well, sure. No problem. Give your cousin my address. Tell her just to call first. Then drop him off after work.”

  “Cool. Thanks, Teresa. You’re terrific. You know, I’m also going into Southampton for another reason. I’m going to change my cell-phone number.”