There was this book series called The Babysitters' Club, you see. It was about a group of middle schoolers who made cash money (and, of course, lasting friendships) looking after other people's children. Occasionally they went on globe-hopping vacations, and solved a murder once or twice. It was the inspiration for Rose's latest money-making venture, as far as Sorey could tell – except instead of feeling like he was in a nurturing young adult fantasy world, he kind of felt like Rose was auctioning him off like a piece of meat to the highest bidder.
"And here's our highest-rated male sitter! Five-foot-ten, top of his class, first aid certified, and, get this, can achieve record-setting speed and distance rankings while encumbered with a bunch of five-year-olds!"
Rose squeezed his bicep, and glanced at their new client meaningfully. Sorey suppressed a sigh and tried to block out the memory of just how Rose got that data. He just needed to make some extra money – his mom already worked herself to the bone picking up shift after shift at the store, and sacrificed so much for him…the least he could do was pick up a part-time job or three to support his college fund and voracious reading habits. Things could be worse, Rose pimping him out aside.
The new client had a cozy little place, in a nice, wooded area of town. It was small, but definitely one of the more upper-class homes Sorey had ever set foot in – probably only someone with money to burn would be hiring him on this regularly. Every weekday, after school until nine PM – at twenty bucks an hour, it was certainly nothing to scoff at, and Sorey was stiff and nervous with the urge to make the best impression possible. Rose was a cutthroat negotiator, but making clients want to come back again and again – that was on him. He tried not to touch anything that looked expensive. Which was everything, unfortunately.
The woman who showed him inside had violet eyes and long brown hair, pulled back into a braid ending with a simple but elegant gold clip. She introduced herself as Muse, and began to show him around.
"…after my husband died, we moved in with my brother Michael. The upstairs room at the end of the hall is his office; he's not much for conversation, so don't disturb him. My son is your age, but he has his extracurriculars and schoolwork to worry about – you probably won't be seeing much of him, either. I'm a surgeon, and work odd shifts at the hospital, so most days, it'll just be you and Madeline. She gets home from first grade at 3:30, and I'll have you meet her at the front door and watch her until I get home."
Sorey felt eyes burning into the back of his skull. He turned around, slowly. A small girl gazed back intently. Her purple tutu stood out proudly and defiantly over her gray and white school uniform. Gaze not into the void, for the void gazes back. Wise words, and clearly came from someone engaging in a staring contest with a six-year-old.
"Mama," came Madeline's small voice. "Where is Mickey?"
"Upstairs, darling, but he's practicing his flute with his tutor, so why don't you introduce yourself to-"
Madeline was off like a shot; her princess tutu a glittering blur as she darted up the stairs. There was a thundering of powerful, tiny feet, then a door banging open – then that beautiful flute music that Sorey could have sworn was a recording in the background stopped with a faltering note.
So Sorey was dealing with a remarkably intelligent, and more worryingly, remarkably fast, young lady, who could not be trusted with her uncle or her older brother. Sorey had handled much more challenging children than this, and won them over with ease – things would be fine.
Madeline had finally, through his protests, dragged her brother down the stairs. Her…her gorgeous, gorgeous brother, with shining violet eyes and platinum white-blond hair so soft and thick and fine it looked like a cloud. His eyes settled on Sorey, and widened minutely. He was wearing glasses. Sorey never stood a chance. Madeline looked quite pleased with herself.
"Mickey's hair looks white but he's not old. You can babysit him too."
Sorey would sooner know what to do when faced with actual, literal royalty than not make a fool out of himself in front of this guy. Muse motioned for Madeline to come to her, and seemed surprised when she complied without protest. Madeline's smile was accomplished and devious.
"Thank you, Maddy, that was nice of you to introduce Sorey to Mikleo. That was so good of you to listen to mommy. Mikleo, this is Maddy's new sitter. He'll be taking care of her until nine on weeknights."
Mikleo couldn't quite look Sorey in the eyes as they shook hands. "H-hey."
Madeline had disengaged from her mother, and gotten ahold of some markers and paper and was furiously scribbling something in the kitchen. Sorey had never felt quite so overwhelmed in his life, in the face of a beautiful prep school flute prodigy and his beautiful home and his ER surgeon mother and his – disturbingly perceptive little sister. Was twenty bucks an hour really enough to make up for the heart palpitations he'd be having every day, knowing that someone like Mikleo was only ever a few rooms away? What if his mother was the one who would get stuck reviving him when he was eventually taken to the hospital for acute boneritis? It was a dreaded disease that struck all teenage boys in the face of their beautiful, stunning, totally-out-of-their-league crushes. There was no cure. Sorey was staring his death in the face, and his death was so, so pretty.
Mikleo gave Sorey a tight smile and slowly walked back upstairs to his lesson. Madeline appeared at Sorey's side, soundlessly. He knelt down to her level and gave her a smile – it was time to start getting to know his new charge, and time to stop salivating over her siblings. Madeline stuffed the piece of paper she had been working on into his hand.
"That is Mickey Mouse's schedule," she explained, matter-of-fact.
The paper Sorey was looking at was covered in unintelligible scribbles. There were two stick figures, one with brown hair, one with white. They were holding hands, and there was a rainbow overhead. There was a stick figure wearing a purple tutu riding a surfboard on the rainbow. It was quite an intricate scene, and Sorey was impressed.
"Do not call him Mickey Mouse. That is only for me. But you'll be his boyfriend now." Madeline patted Sorey's head, magnanimously. "I know."