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It was Monday, the first day of summer, and I had plans. First, my friend and I were going to go to the community pool and swim. Afterwards, we'd go to her house and watch T.V. And last of all, we'd practice cartwheels on the front lawn. Too bad it never happened. I'll tell you why.
The next door neighbors had asked my mother if she'd take care of their two-year-old daughter, Annie, for three hours this afternoon. She said yes, five minutes before her boss called and asked her to work overtime. She needed the cash, so she accepted. She said she'd feel like a rat if she had to tell Mrs. Burgess she couldn't babysit, so she asked me to do it.
Right then, I could only think of one word. No. There was no way I'd ever take care of Annie Burgess all day. Sure, she might LOOK like an angel with her round, white, cherub face, honey-blond tresses, and large, baby-blue eyes, but in reality, she had hands for destruction. I was about to say so, but then my mother said those eight little words that changed everything.
"They'll pay you five dollars an hour, Helen."
Fifteen dollars! Oh, what I could do with that money! My thoughts started swirling and the room started to spin. Suddenly, I heard a voice that sounded remarkably like mine say: "Okay, Mom. I'll do it."
The next thing I knew, my mother kissed me on the cheek and ran off to tell Mrs. Burgess. Immediately, I snapped out of my trance and realized what I had done. I felt like I had sold away my soul for fifteen dollars. I sank into a chair, anxiously awaiting one o' clock--the hour of doom.
As Mom left for work, I sat staring at the clock. It was 12:58. It seemed as if the clock knew what was going to happen in two minutes and slowed down to taunt me. 12:59. Only one minute until the doorbell would ring and Annie would scamper through the doorway. I sighed heavily. I couldn't wait to get this over with once and for all.
Finally, it rang, and I threw the door open, only to be knocked to the floor by Annie as she darted inside. Just seconds after her parents left, Annie grabbed her baby-bag and scattered her accessories all over the floor. I heard the crash and turned around to see what had happened. She saw me, dropped the bag, and dashed into the kitchen. I scooped her things back into the bag. Suddenly, I saw what Annie was doing in the kitchen. She was sitting on the floor in a puddle of milk with the empty carton in her lap.
"Annie! What have you done?" I screamed in horror.
"I kitty," came the quiet reply. She leaned over to lap up the spilt milk.
"Oh no, you don't!" I grabbed her arm and lead her towards the bathroom to give her a bath. Somewhere between the living room and the bathroom I lost her. I ran all over the house looking for her, when at last I found her upstairs in my room. She was smacking my wall with a large metal spoon. She had already succeeded in chipping off some of the paint.
"Annie, stop!" I cried. She hurled the spoon in my direction. I ducked just in time. The spoon hit the hanging basket behind me, sending the plant crashing to the floor. Suddenly, I turned from flustered twelve-year-old to an angry babysitter.
"Annie Burgess, you're in big trouble now!" I growled.
Her eyes widened at the tone of my voice. She stood still just long enough for me to grab her and haul her to the bathroom. During her bath, I kept my hand tight around her wrist to prevent her from getting away again.
After that, everything ran smoothly, considering who I had to take care of. All through the day I had to keep saying things like, "Annie, leave the cat alone", or "Touch that lamp, and you'll be sorry". I was overjoyed when Mrs. Burgess came back and paid me my fifteen dollars. Just a few minutes after she left, Mom came home.
"So, Helen," she said. "Did you have fun with little Annie Burgess?"
"Fun? With THAT little demon?"
She didn't hear me. "Did you treat her right?" she continued.
"Don't you think you should ask HER how she treated ME?" I sank into a chair. All that mess paid off, but I wouldn't do it again for a million dollars. Fifteen dollars, maybe, but not a million.
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