Bad Boy Needs A Baby Sitter

Prom

Dylan stood tall in a knee length dress and flats. She ran her fingers through her short and silky black hair. She had the appearance of a boy, but her face told of all the difference. She had a little, pointed like nose, and rosy red cheeks. Dylan looked like a flower, but was the kind that no one liked to pick up.

Tonight it was prom. Being a junior in high school, it was her first time. Stepping into the gymnasium of Claywood high school, Dylan was shocked at the sight. The lights to the gymnasium were off but blue and red strobe lights filled the room.  Balloons were hanging over by tables and punch had already covered the floor from people that've spilled it. Dylan pushed her thick black rimmed glasses back unto her face. Her stomach lurched at the sight of hundreds of people dancing, screaming, singing, some even appeared to be high or drunk.

Connor began to walk up to the stage to take his rightful throne as prom king. He shoved through people, making his way through. With broad shoulders and being captain of the football team, no one argued. Connor passed by Dylan nearly toppling over her. He looked at her angrily, but her face showed no emotion. Without saying anything, Connor continued. Connor was the "bad boy" of Claywood. Of course all of the girls liked him, and he had no trouble taking one as his girl. Although one relationship of his had lasted longer than any of them. Connor and Elise were quite the pair. Both having wealthy parents and little to no supervision. Although Elise was an odd ball. She was a redhead with grey eyes.  She was known as the genetic mutation of the school, but of course Elise didn't appreciate that.

The speakers screeched and everyone made an effort to cover their ears. A voice was head over the intercom, "Sorry about that. Tonight we will be pronouncing the prom king and queen," a loud cheer went over the crowd of people, "Alright folks, quiet down now," the room hushed almost instantly," Your prom king, of twenty-twenty, is... Connor Wright!" As soon as it had been hushed the room erupted again in screams and yells. Connor walked out from the side of the stage followed by Elise. Their arms were interlocked with one another's. They both smiled, and the noise of the crowd had not ceded yet. It seemed as if Dylan was the only one not cheering her heart out.

Dylan had not noticed that she was alone, she was now standing in the middle of a circle of people. She looked around in confusion. But before she could walk away she was doused in punch. Her cheeks burned a bright red due to humiliation. Loud laughter rang out from the hundreds of people that attended. Connor, still standing on the stage with Elise, laughed too. His blue eyes sparkled, but his face had shown some worry. Dylan didn't deserve this. Flashes went off as some started taking pictures of the soaked girl.

Dylan pushed through the people, making her way to the exit. She did not cry, nor did she show any other emotion. She walked down the steps of Claywood high and began to walk desperately home. She had not thought of calling home, for her phone was probably fried now anyways. Half an hour later she walked up to her doorsteps, wiping what little punch was left away from her face. Dylan opened the door to her home, which wasn't anything more than a trailer. Taking off her soggy shoes and closing the door behind her, her mother stood before her.

"Home so early? Why didn't you call?" Her mother's voice was raspy.

Dylan looked at her mom with pleading eyes, "I didn't want to stay."

Her mother looked at her dress, "What happened," she asked in a serious manner.

"I don't know," Dylan looked down, "I'm going to sleep," she said as she began to walk away.

"Wait," she grabbed Dylan's arm and sighed, "I need a huge favor."

"What?"

"Apply for a job, any job, we need money now more than ever."

Dylan looked at her angrily, "What happened, we were fine a few weeks ago?"

"That's not important."

Dylan shook her head in disappointment and whispered, "Okay mom."

She walked away, and into her bedroom. Taking off her wet clothes and climbing into bed nude, she grabbed her laptop and began to search for jobs in the area. She sighed, and wondered why her mother needed her to do this. Ever since her father's death she's been acting a tad strange.

"Waitress? No. Janitor? No. Journalist? God no. Baby sitter? Hmm."

The last thought remained questionable.