Stay-At-Home Brat

Nobody Knows

Sophia's POV

We are back at Bailey's manor, tarrying in the doorway to the grandads' lounge. The space is filled with spry voices and laughter. Gentle but uplifting music plays in the background. The cats have jumped up on the table, prowling among the drinks and bakeries—dangerously close to the burning candelabras. Alfie basks in front of the cracking fireplace beside two gentlemen, each one of them puffing on a pipe. I can't spot Michael, but they don't seem to be concerned in any way.

Oliver clears his throat. ''Excuse me!'' he exclaims, catching their attention. ''Thank you! Where's Father Corbyn?''

''Michael just left due to a family emergency!" Alfie replies gaily. ''I'm not sure what kind of emergency. He didn't appear alarmed, though.''

Oliver darts an uneasy glance at me. ''Alexander is on his way home due to a family emergency as well, so Zander has obviously fucked up one too many times,'' he tells the pensioners grumblingly.

A wave of concern washes over them, yet it doesn't seem to have caused alarm, not even to Alfie. He looks a bit pensively but doesn't comment on it, not before I pipe up at least.

''I have an unrelated question! You old ones should be able to answer this," I say, and their attention rivets on me. "What kind of job should I get if I want to earn more than average but work as little as possible?''

They chuckle vigorously at my question.

''Professor,'' an elderly man, with a small dog twined into a tiny ball of brown fur on his lap, answers promptly.

''But all you do is work and study,'' I counter.

''Yes, but it doesn't feel like work when you work with your interests and other nerds,'' he explains positively, several of his fellows agreeing with him.

''I don't really wanna go back to school,'' I say.

''I've heard you can earn a lot on drug dealing and sex work,'' another one says bluntly, rousing a peal of laughter. ''...But those jobs have quite a dark side to them," he stresses.

''Michael said I have too much of a bad attitude to become a stripper and charm men to give me their money." I chuckle devilishly. ''I'd love to rebel against society, but I don't want to go to prison or harm somebody.''

''Politics,'' one suggests. ''Politicians earn a lot.''

''I don't believe in politics, and it'd force me to talk and listen to idiots all the time,'' I say.

''Write some filthy novel that will provoke people!" a man across the room calls, showing a rakish grin.

I actually like this idea but have concerns. ''I like that idea and could certainly succeed with it, but I don't want to get hunted down and killed by incels and tyrannical feminists."

''By the way, weren't you becoming a tattoo artist?'' Alfie questions.

''Yeah, but you have to work long hours and you don't earn as much as I want,'' I say. ''Also, it will take years before I can start working as one.''

''Go to church!" the rakish man speaks up again.

I give him a quizzical look. ''They don't earn much and work on Sunday mornings."

''No, not to work. Ask God for guidance. you don't need to go to a church. You can go to any godly place," he says soberly.

''It'd be offensive for me to enter a religious establishment,'' I state. ''If you knew what I did this weekend, you'd all die from a heart attack.'' I make them laugh again.

"I think you should study a somewhat taboo subject and aspire to become a professor in that field," the first man remarks. 

—

The latter part of the day passes slowly. I stay at Oliver's place, trying to contact the Corbyns and Brinkleys in multiple ways without success. So we decided to end the day like we started it—lolling in the living room with a hot beverage before the fireplace. It's dark outside when Sebastian comes to pick me up. Sebastian, unlike the older gentlemen, seems rather perturbed when walking into the warm and cosy room, his French Bulldogs scampering after him. Whether it's because Oliver and I have skipped our daily duties or if it regards Alexander or Zander, I can't tell you yet.

''I have a brilliant excuse as to why I didn't show up today!" Oliver pipes up, his father rolling his eyes and scoffing—probably recalling the week when our brilliant excuses got us in more trouble than we could imagine a year or two ago.

The time passed quickly. In hindsight, our years at school with Sebastian passed within the blink of an eye, even though it felt the opposite during our time there. I still miss those days sometimes. Quite often, to be honest. Particularly on days like these when I hang out with Oliver. It would've been so much fun to plan and do some mischief rather than idle away our day and worry about money.

''I had to tell him about my fantastic weekend!'' I assert, flashing an elfish smile for Oliver and then Sebastian. ''Anyway, we have more important issues to focus on. Did you get my text about Alex? Do you know why he left?"

''Yes, and no." Sebastian meets my smile with a solemn look and tone. "I tried to contact him, but he didn't respond. I know he is with his parents now, and we are going there on Friday..."