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Chapter One

Considering the sole reason I was taking up this babysitting gig was to buy a car, it went unsaid that I didn't actually have one yet. So on the pleasantly boiling walk to the Gray's, I began to ponder several things.

There wasn't anybody in or around our neighbourhood who was or had ever been a convicted paedophile-that I was sure of. But the fact that the Grays were willing to pay me so much money for such minimal babysitting made me wonder-were they simply generous, or was this kid going to be that bad?

And then I took into account the street name that I was given and let out a long, low whistle. Sunset Drive. Only seriously loaded people lived in Sunset Drive- I was sure that the whole of my house and my backyard would make up the size of a kitchen in a Sunset Drive house. It was a gated community too, and I had even heard that some tweenie star like Hannah Montana lived there, or maybe it was Chad Dylan Cooper. I was never sure.

I felt horribly underdressed-I was babysitting and probably going to end up with bits of paint and playdough stuck in my clothes, under my fingernails, all up in my hair-but the Gray's house was easily the biggest on the street, and the most modern, with floodlights and a semicircular drive swept around to allow space for five or six cars.

The thing that intimidated me most were the bodyguards at the gates. Bodyguards? Why the extra caution, I mean, I was a sixteen year old girl with a not-yet-fully-developed-chest and an overbite. Jeez, Denise, give me some credit here.

A big one eyed me dubiously as I gave him my name and announced myself as the babysitter.

'Oh really? We'll just see about that, won't we?' He smirked. I frowned a little as he picked up a real walkie talkie (like one the FBI would use) and spoke into it. 'Yeah, I've got a girl here, Ritchie Torres, 12-13, says she's the babysitter?' He eyed me up and down and I scoffed. 12-13?

'Um, hello? I'm sixteen, actually, and my name is Mitchie Torres?' Goodbye manners, hello 'tude.

Judging by the loud 'OH' of relief through the walkie talkie, I was accepted as a creature of safety and allowed through under the watchful eye of the Big Guy.

And then the door miraculously opened, and a small woman looking stunning in an evening dress made of pale blue silk and a wide smile allowed me in.

'Oh hi, Mitchie!' She gushed. 'I'm Denise.' She said, shaking my hand a little too enthusiastically.

'Um...hi, I'm Mitchie.' I said, a little overwhelmed by her warm reception.

'Oh, I'm so glad you made it! Ok, Frankie has already eaten, but if you like you can order pizza, emergency numbers are up on the fridge and-oh! Bedtime is 9.30 sharp, and Shane should arrive around 10.30. I trust you not to abuse your position, Mitchie.' She said, her eyes twinkling.

'Ok, um...yeah, thanks Mrs Gray.' I said, a little confused but nonetheless happy.

'What's this Mrs Gray nonsense? Call me Denise, honey. And help yourself to anything you like!' She said cheerfully, as a short man came down the stairs. 'Oh, Paul!' She said, rushing over to him. 'Paul, this is Mitchie, the new babysitter.'

'How do you do, Mitchie?' He said politely, shaking my hand as they departed.

'Thanks again, Mitchie!' Denise called over her shoulder.

The door closed, and there was silence all except for the roar of a TV from time to time. I crept into the living room and saw a small boy sitting with his eyes glued to the screen.

'Hey Frankie.' I gathered all the cheer in my body up and thrust it away with that one sentiment.

He turned around, and I resisted the urge not to aww straight away. As well as some seriously sticky-up hair, he had big eyes, long eyelashes (that seemed to give me the impression that he was secretly Bambi) and a cute button nose. What's more was, he looked so familiar that it hurt. Literally. It hurt, because I was twisting my finger around the wrong way trying to figure out just who the hell he was.

'Hi.' He said shyly, turning the TV off and standing up straight. 'Are you the new babysitter?'

I nodded, smiling. 'I'm Mitchie.'

'I'm Frankie.' He said softly. He suddenly ran up to me, throwing his arms around my waist and I laughed, hugging him back. 'Will you be my friend?' He asked.

'Of course I will.' I straightened up. 'Anything you want to do now, buddy?'

'Go Fish?' He suggested, whipping out a pack of cards from nowhere.

'You're on.'

Go Fish had progressed into Fish for Gumballs (in the candy jar) which had turned into Gumball Fight. Frankie had subsequently declared that he wanted to watch Homeward Bound, and since it had still only been 8.45, I let him.

It was now 9.15 and after I had run around the bottom floor of the house picking up loose gumballs, we were both immersed in Chance's story when the doorbell rang. Frankie stayed glued to the set and I frowned.

'That's weird...' Nobody should've been home until 10.30. Armed with a handful of gumballs, I tiptoed to the front door, and peeked through the hole where all I could see was the top of a black ski hat.

I pressed up against the door, breathing heavily. Who wore a ski hat in summer?

A robber. Robber!

Ok. Either I grabbed Frankie and we hid...or I fended him off.

Which way to go, Mitchie? Which way to go...

One...two...three.

I opened the door with a flourish, aiming gumballs with amazing precision at the dude's head. Instantaneously, he brought his arms up to shield himself.

'Hey, ow, what're you-ow...hey, ow, stop it!' He grabbed my arms and I gasped.

'Don't touch me you...bas-' I trailed away as he brought his incredulous gaze up to meet mine. My breath hitched in my throat as I stared into two beautifully shiny ochre eyes, surrounded by an expanse of smooth honey coloured skin. There was a tiny nick above his nose, and a smattering of moles on his neck, but as he pulled his hat off, there was no mistaking it.

'..tard.' I finished the word as my cheeks went red.

I had just gumballed Shane Gray, boy wonder.

And it's you
The light changes when you're in the room
Oh, it's you
-It's You, Michelle Branch