her // h.s. au

01

Camilla.

Present Day.

I wake to the ungodly sound of marimba blaring from my phone. The vibrations against my nightstand makes me want to throw my phone across the room, hoping it would smash into a billion pieces. My hand aimlessly searched for my phone on my nightstand and tapped the snooze button. The fact that it's 6:00am already makes want to rip my hair out and I mentally curse at myself for staying up that extra hour watching reruns of America's Next Top Model.

"Damn it, Cam! Don't you dare press that damn snooze button! You know Nora will go absolutely berserk if you aren't there on time!" Vera aggressively knocks on my door.

I pried my eyes open, and I was met with the piercing eyes of the famous Vera Young. "If you are not dressed and ready to go in the next 10 minutes, Miss Tyra Banks, I don't know what I'm gonna do with you," she snapped, "Chop, chop! Rise and shine." Vera walked over to my closed windows and opened the curtains, revealing the harsh sun that has already begun its journey.

I groaned and rolled over, "Vera, how are you even alive at this sacrilegious hour?" I sat up, man-handling my mess of hair.

"It's not sacrilegious, Cam, it's called life. Half of New York is already awake and off to work. Now, get your ass up and get ready. Breakfast is in the kitchen," Vera said as she fixed her pencil skirt in my mirror. Great, she was already in her work clothes.

Vera was my best friend, but I guess having an advice column writer as a roommate came with its difficulties. For example, Vera loved to wake up early, sometimes even before the sun was up. We met during our junior year in high school, and decided to room together after college. It was a coincidence, really; she received her journalism degree at NYU and snatched a job as a writer for The New York Times and I, for one, had just moved to the heart of New York working part time at a daycare and interning at the pediatric wing in the hospital AND we both needed someone that could pay for rent.

I groaned, again. I unwillingly scrambled out of bed and made myself look presentable after I had realized that I've been aimlessly sitting on my bed and thinking about absolutely nothing for 10 whole minutes. I hummed a familiar Beatles song as I briskly packed up my bag for the day.

Vera had left already, since it will probably take her more than half an hour to get to The Times because of the early morning traffic. I quickly scarfed down the breakfast she had made me: unseasoned scrambled eggs and a cherry strudel from the local bakery. Funny enough to say, she could be a replacement for my mother, except her taste in food seasoning is absolutely repulsive.

The daycare was only about a 15 minute subway ride, located in the ever-exclusive Upper East Side. Vera and I lived in a dainty flat down in the West Village, near the border of the almost-broke and starving NYU students. It may be small, but it has character... and it was all we can afford at the moment.

I had a morning-afternoon shift at the daycare, followed by a 4-hour internship at the hospital. I made my way down to the concrete jungle and into the subway station on 14th street.

The streets were already bustling, like Vera said: truly, New York is definitely the city that never sleeps.

As I make my way up the stairwell from the subway, I find myself in the most prestigious part of New York. Every women in this area owns no less than five Louis Vuittons and every man owns maybe five Mercedes with the occasional rental Audi here and there. I suddenly feel out of place until I reach Nora's Nursery. Nora's Nursery has become my utopia, and Nora herself is considered the best boss anyone could have.

Despite the arguments of many parents, I find myself falling in love with working at the daycare. Yes, the job is time-consuming and fatiguing; but it's amazing seeing how kids grow and how they approach things in life, especially how they react to simple things like scratch-n-sniff stickers. And even more ironically, I am the only child. I always wanted a younger or older sibling. I wanted that extra ounce of love, but my family never grew. It was just me and my mom with the occasional appearance of my military father.

Life in the suburbs is exactly what it seems: boring, quiet, and nuclear. I didn't come from a privileged family like Vera; my mom worked as a receptionist at a somewhat big company and my dad was deported to the Navy. Vera's parents, on the other hand, are Chinese-American immigrants that became business moguls in the real estate industry.

In spite of the juxtaposition of the environment, I entered Nora's Nursery with a greeting from the local kids whose parents have work during the summer. The kids that spend their days at here most likely have parents that work endlessly in the city. Especially with living in the eminent Upper East Side, it comes with the disadvantage of not spending enough time with their young child.

I was greeted by Nora, who sat at the front desk awaiting the children's arrival.

"Hey, Cam. Rough night?" she asked, raising a perfect eyebrow at me. Nora was in her mid-30s and it is remarkable that her little company is doing so well. As well as being my boss, she was also a mother to a high schooler. She takes care of business very well (despite getting pregnant at 21), and since the last year, enrollment has increased dramatically.

"If you mean binge watching America's Next Top Model is rough, then yes, it was very rough," I laughed, trying to sort out the problem that is my hair.

"God, when will you ever listen to me and get some sleep? You practically work all day here and then you head over to the hospital and you come home and 'binge watch'! Have you ever heard of rest, honey?" Nora shook her head, and pulled her blonde hair into a bun. God, now I really, really regret watching those episodes.

"Noted," I tapped my head with my finger, as if I would remember the helpful tip. "Now, what's the schedule today?" I asked, leaning against the counter, trying to catch a glimpse of Nora's huge iMac.

"Well, we have a new kid today, and since your kid went to summer school, I'm putting you in charge. But I have to warn you: the father is very, very protective, spelt with a capital 'P'," she sighed as she scrolled through the spreadsheet, "He wants the child to be watched from 8am-2pm, with your undivided attention. Her father's friend will be picking her up then. He wants his daughter to be safe at all times, which wouldn't be a problem, right?" She raised her eyebrow at me again.

I've never had a major problem with a kids before. Yes, there were mishaps of losing a toy car and arguing over a Barbie, but nothing big. "No problems whatsoever. I'll keep it safe and fun. But this father seems very safeguarding to be honest with you."

"I heard he's young. A bit older than you," Nora implies, checking the sign-in sheet.

"He's at least 22?! Wow..." I exclaimed, my eyes widening a bit; some parents turned their heads towards me and I cupped my hand over my mouth after I realized I had neglected the 'indoor voice' rule. "Sorry," I insinuated, and looked back at Nora praying she wouldn't scold me, "So, um, what's the name?"

Nora looked at me with her piercing brown eyes for a moment and directed her attention back to the computer, scrolling a bit. "Seraphina Styles."

...

a/n: thanks for reading :) btw i picture camilla as danielle campbell (she's actually my favorite actress at the moment)