3f#24 – babysitter
Daniel was a rebel. His jeans looked like he lived in them. His back pocket held a comb and a pack of Marlboroughs. He was sultry, sharp-eyed, a reckless driver, her brother’s best friend, and a shoe-in to Harvard. Tonight he was her babysitter.
She protested for form’s sake—eleven was too old for a babysitter—but her father was firm. She spent the afternoon deciding what to wear and settled on jeans plus the sweater her dad said made her eyes look green.
Daniel let her make t.v. dinners. He let her watch Fast Times at Ridgemont High but didn’t respond to her commentary on scenes she labeled “scary/personal.” Instead he pored over his physics notebook and chain-smoked out the patio door. When he went to the bathroom, she swiped his Zippo and a pair of cigarettes.
He returned and began to hunt for his lighter. She, pretending to help, went to the kitchen. The cigarettes were hard to light. He walked in before she’d succeeded.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he balked.
She grinned: “One for you, one for me.”
Grimmacing, he took the cigarettes from her hand, took a drag, and took her under his arm. Bracing his foot on a chair, he lifted her off the floor and over his knee. His hand hurt as much as her dad’s, more. “If I ever hear of you lighting up,” he said, “I’ll give you something to make this feel like pattycakes. Got it, kiddo?”
What is Flash Fiction Friday?
Another cracker week for 3F—well done, writers! Read the other folks writing this week:
