Eighteen [a.i]

o n e

S T E L L A

I groan as I drag the last cardboard box from the hallway into my new, large bedroom.

The walls are an ugly blue, and I make a mental note to paint that later. My queen-sized bed is positioned next to my window, and a large television and bookshelf are on the other side of the room, next to my closet.

My Mum, Dad, little brother Ethan and I just moved from London to Sydney. What I've seen of the neighborhood so far is lovely. Large trees line the road, and sizeable houses are scattered up the sides.

I look out my bedroom window to the park across the road, seeing a bunch of younger teenage boys playing soccer, an elderly couple sitting on a bench eating ice creams and a new looking family of three walking a dog.

I honestly love Sydney so far, and although I miss my friends in London, I know this move was for the better.

My door creaks open slowly, and I turn around to see my eleven-year-old brother standing at the door. "Mum would like to see you downstairs, Stella," he says quietly, shifting on his feet. Ethan has always been a much quieter boy for his age, but I don't mind it.

"Okay buddy," I say, smiling at him as I walk down the stairs and into the lounge room.

"Good evening, Stella," My mother smiles as I enter the room. The way my family speaks and acts may seem weird to some people, but I believe it just shows class.

"Yes mother?" I ask as I take a seat next to her on the couch.

"So, I have enrolled you in Norwest Christian College, it's only about a ten minute drive from here. And I believe that you are now responsible enough to get a job. You're seventeen now, darling. You need to take responsibility," she smiles, awkwardly patting my shoulder as she hands me a newspaper. "I want you to read this. Have a look if there are any jobs that appeal to you. I'm sure anyone would hire you in an instant."

I nod, taking the paper from her hands and flipping to the business section. My eyes scan the pages until they finally land on something that doesn't have to do with cars or fast food.

"Mum?" I ask. "Do you think I'd be a good babysitter?"

~~~

I stand outside the small caravan-looking contraption placed along the side of a dirt road just outside the city.

I smooth down she bottom part of my pink floral dress before knocking on the wooden door. Honestly, it looks as though it's about to fall off.

I don't think anyone even lives here, let alone a ten-year-old boy. I don't understand how anyone could live here. Maybe I have the wrong address?

Just as I turn on my heel to walk back to my brand new Mazda 2, the creaky caravan door opens and a boy about my age steps out, dressed in black from head to toe and a cigarette hanging out his mouth.

Honestly, I am utterly appalled by the way this boy looks and lives, but I keep my mouth shut.

"Um, I'm sorry," I say. "I think I may have the wrong address."

He looks at me skeptically, tilting his head to the side. He has sunglasses on, but I can tell that he's looking directly towards me. "Are you here to babysit my brother?" He asks, his Australian accent strong and husky. Probably from that damn killing machine (the cigarette.)

"Oh, uh yeah," I say, awkwardly smiling as he steps aside to let me into the small building. "Is this where you live?" I ask before my brain can even process what's falling from my mouth.

The boy takes his sunglasses off, revealing light hazel eyes. Honestly, I would think they were nice if they weren't blazing towards me. "What, is it not good enough for your rich fucking standards? Because if so, you can get the fuck out." His cold glare sends shivers down my spine and I feel quite intimidated by his figure that stands well over 6'0.

I shake my head, stuttering for words to come out. "I, uh, no I'm sorry. I didn't mean that in a bad way. I was just, uh wondering."

He rolls his eyes, but thankfully keeps his mouth shit. I don't even want this job anymore if it involves having to see people like him around this so-called 'house.'

Where are his parents anyway?

"I'll go get Harry," he mumbles, walking through a curtain pinned to the wall into what I'm guessing is the boy's bedroom. How could anyone possibly live like this?

There is no TV, just one couch that is ripping at the seams, with a pillow and blanket on top of it. Does someone sleep there? The kitchen area is small, with dirty pots and pans placed all throughout the area. There are two curtains pinned to the wall; one of which is probably Harry's bedroom, and I'm guessing the other is a bathroom.

The boy whose name I have yet to learn emerges from the curtain covered room a minute later, a small blonde lad following after him.

"Hello," I smile, bending down to his height. "I'm Stella. You must be Harry."