Daphne Collins, a 21-year-old aspiring artist who is attempting to make her way in the world of the bustling New York City. Though when a new nannying job gets offered to her, she takes it, hopeful that it'll give her the extra money and nudge to ma...
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Chapter Song - Hey Lover! by Wabie
I'm not nervous, you're nervous.
How could you possibly be nervous? But I sure as hell am; and I am nota nervous person on any regular basis, not even on a now and then basis.
Anxiety or nerves have never stirred inside me to an extent compared to this moment. Except for that one time in elementary school when my younger brother knocked a bunch of paint buckets over and blamed it on me.
We were in different years and classes, I still don't understand how the principal believed his stupid face. But boy, I was a ball of nerves walking into the principals office back then while trying not to strangle the little rodent.
Flattening the wild hairs on my head, I stared at myself in the mirror I'd never look in again. The tossing and turning all night had resulted in darker bags under my eyes, and my untamed shoulder length blonde hair was screaming to be brushed through.
A ball of nerves is what my hair was, a spasm of the electrical circuit pulsating in my body. And it is unreasonable, nannying shouldn't be making me nervous. Kids love me, I'm great with kids - no matter how quirky, weird, loud, or quiet they are; I will always discover something about them that we can bond over.
Perhaps - could be a stretch - it was the gargantuan pot hole in the middle of the road waiting for me to trip over. The one main difference that separates humans: wealth. It's a harsh subject for some, then for some it doesn't even cause their eye to twitch.
The neighbourhood i'm about to enter floated around in my mind.
Don't get me wrong, the other families I nannied for were richer than I was, but were middle class, suburban families. This one is upper class, gossip girl class, god damn Richie Rich class.
Then their's me; the paint stained overall wearing girl with slightly uneven hair because my brother cut it when we were younger and it never grew back properly. The girl who is the complete buffoon of an elephant surrounded by delicate one carat diamonds.
It's purely intimidating. I'm intimidated, that's my nerves.
What if they ask where i'm from and they judge me? Or worse; say nothing and look at me with their sharp, judgmental eyes.
Most rich people think The Bronx side by side with danger, violence, a ring of fights occurring nightly; and in my old neighbourhood, it had those jilting instances. But majority of The Bronx is nothing like that, I still have family and friends there.
It's my home. It's my safe place.I will forever cherish it and defend it.
The clothes I wear, the demeanour I own, it's all ingredients feeding into my doubt and picturing judgemental glowers that have me shivering with terror and discomfort.
