The Babysitter

   “Thank you so much for coming at the last minute,” Mrs. Prescott said with a grin, holding the door open.

  “No problem at all,” Darby said, stepping into the house. “I’m glad I could help you out.”

  “It has been so long since my husband and I have been to a party on Halloween,” Mrs. Prescott said, closing the door behind Darby and leading her down the front hallway into the living room. Two kids, a girl and a boy, sat on the brown leather sofa watching a scary movie on television.

 “Molly, Stephen, come meet your babysitter.”

  Two heads swiveled around and looked up at their mother and Darby.

“This is Darby,” Mrs. Prescott introduced. “She is going to keep an eye on you two while your dad and I go to a party.”

“Hi Darby,” two voices said in unison. Then their heads swiveled back around. Mrs. Prescott rolled her eyes.

“They’re obsessed with this movie lately. Once it’s over they should start getting ready for bed. They will probably want to eat more of their trick or treat candy but try to limit them to only one or two pieces. They’ve already both had much more than enough for one night.”

   At that moment Mr. Prescott walked into the room and held his hand out to greet Darby.

“I’m Ted Prescott, nice to meet you. Thanks for agreeing to watch the kids and sorry for the late call. I know most people are in for the evening once it gets dark.”

“Oh it’s no problem. My day is just beginning when it gets dark.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Prescott laughed.

“Oh to be young again,” Ted said with a wistful smile. He walked to the closet and took out two long black jackets.

“We should be back around eleven,” he told Darby, handing one of the jackets to his wife. She slipped it on over her dress.

“All the emergency numbers are on the fridge and the kids know their bedtime routine. If they give you any trouble, just tell them we will take away their candy if we hear they were bad.”

  Molly and Stephen’s heads swiveled around again at the mention of their candy being confiscated.

“You hear that, kids?” Mr. Prescott said. “Do what your babysitter says.”

“Yes, dad,” they both said in monotone voices, then turned back to their movie.

“Alright well call us if you need anything,” Mrs. Prescott said, taking her husband’s hand. They walked out of the room together and in a moment, Darby heard the front door click shut behind them.

“Do you wanna watch this movie with us?” Stephen asked Darby.

“Sure,” she answered, sitting in the armchair across from the couch. She looked up at the screen but after a few seconds, she felt someone’s eyes on her. Glancing at the couch she noticed Molly staring at her.

“Are you sick?” she asked bluntly. Darby cocked her head to the side.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re like super pale,” Molly said, squinting at Darby to see her better in the dim light. Darby held up her hands and peered at them.

“I just have a light complexion,” she said defensively.

“You need to tan,” Molly suggested. “Hey do you want me to give you a makeover? You might look more normal with some bronzer and rouge.”

“How old are you? You’re wearing makeup already?” Darby commented.

“I’m twelve, thank you,” Molly said with sass, putting a hand on her hip. “My mommy lets me wear makeup whenever I want. And I don’t need a babysitter. You can babysit Stephen. He’s only ten.”

“Ten and a half,” Stephen snapped, not even taking his eyes off the screen.

“Whatever,” Molly shrugged him off. “I’ll go get my makeup and give you a mirror so you can see what I’m doing.”

“A what?” Darby said nervously.

“A mirror,” Molly repeated, giving the babysitter a confused look.

“No need for that. I’m sure whatever you do will look amazing.”

“Ok, whatever you say,” Molly agreed, disappearing down a hallway. She came back in a few moments with a bag of makeup and a hairbrush.

“I’m going to make you beautiful,” she told Darby, unzipping the bag.

  Half an hour later, Darby sat in the armchair slathered in way too much of Molly’s makeup, her hair sectioned off into at least five braids.

“She looks ridiculous,” Stephen said, finally paying attention to something other than the television now that the movie was over. He took his trick or treat basket off the table next to the couch and began digging through it.

“She does not,” Molly said, glaring at her brother. “She looks beautiful.”

Stephen shook his head. Grabbing a handful of candy he plopped it down on the sofa and began sorting through it.

“What is that?” Darby asked frowning and pointing to a piece of gummy candy in a clear plastic wrapper.

“Fangs,” Stephen said. He held them up to his mouth and made a scary face. “Guess what I am!”

“That’s not even close. Real fangs don’t look like that,” Darby said disapprovingly. Stephen’s brow furrowed.

“It’s just a dumb piece of candy,” he said, tearing open the wrapper and popping the fangs into his mouth.

“When are our parents going to be home?” he asked.

“Around eleven,” Darby answered. Molly laughed and shook her head.

“There’s no way they will make it home by eleven. When my parents party, they party hard. You should see my dad chug beers and my mom with her blood Mary.”

“Bloody Mary?” Darby repeated, licking her lips. “She sounds delightful. Does she come around often?”

 Molly and Stephen looked at each other and then back at Darby.

“You’re a weird babysitter,” Molly said. “Bloody Mary is an alcohol drink.”

“Isn’t it time you kids were in bed?” Darby said, weary of Molly’s frank opinions.

“Yeah, Mom said we had to go to bed after the movie or she’d take our candy,” Stephen reminded his sister.

“Whatever. I shouldn’t even have a babysitter. I’m twelve,” Molly muttered. She turned to Darby.

“The TV remote is on the mantle. If you get hungry there’s all kinds of snacks in the pantry, just don’t eat our candy.”

“No chance of that,” Darby assured her. “I’m certain I won’t be hungry for any food tonight.”

 Molly shrugged and walked out of the room with her brother.

“I’ll be up to check on you in a minute,” Darby called after them. She ran her tongue over her teeth and looked down at the pile of candy Stephen had left on the couch including the wrapper for his gummy fangs.

“Not even close,” she laughed. Pushing the candy aside, she sat down and looked up at the TV. After a few moments, her eyes drifted toward the dark hallway that led to the kids’ rooms. Perhaps she was a little hungry after all.

  Two hours later the clock on the mantle read eleven thirty and Mr. and Mrs. Prescott were stumbling down the front hallway. Darby smiled and stood up to greet them.

“Hello, sorry we are late,” Ted said, slurring his words slightly. “It took us a while to get a cab.”

“It’s no problem,” Darby assured them.

“I hope we didn’t keep you up too late,” Mrs. Prescott chimed in. Darby shook her head.

“I won’t be going to bed for hours yet.”

“How were the kids?” Mrs. Prescott asked.

“They were good,” Darby said. “They went to bed right after the movie and I haven’t heard a peep from them since. They must just be…” Darby paused for a moment. “Drained.”

“Well I hope you were able to relax. I forgot to tell you we have plenty of snacks in the kitchen. Even some leftover garlic bread from the Italian we ordered in last night.”

  Darby wrinkled her nose.

“Oh none for me, thanks. I found something else that was quite to my liking.”

“Excellent. I’m glad you made yourself at home,” Ted interjected. “Now about paying you. Do you prefer cash or check?”