Ariel

I love babysitting.

I get paid, in cash, to watch TV and play games. Personally, I can't think of a better job. Tonight, I'm babysitting the kid who lives in the apartment below, Yaz. She's chosen some Disney movie which, to be honest, I don't mind watching. I'm still waiting for the day they get a bit more inclusive, but everyone loves a bit of high pitch singing in their life, even though most people wouldn't admit to it.

The microwave pings. I take out the popcorn, tip it into a bowl and take it into the living room.

"Mae? Molly? Matilda?" Yaz says from the couch.

"I already suggested those." I sit next to her and hand her the bowl. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I unlock it. "Any more?"

"Milly? Martha? Maggie?" Yaz offers while crunching on a handful of popcorn. Seven-year-olds can really stuff a lot of food into their tiny mouths.

"I hadn't thought of the last two." I tap the names quickly and press send.

Faithful still hasn't got back to me even though I've sent him over ten messages guessing her name. I hope he's not still annoyed at me for walking in whilst he was mid finger fucking the M-girl. I don't know why he got so upset, she looked like she was enjoying herself.

I grab the remote and press play. Some overly cheerful music fills the living room and I lean back. M... M... Misha? Miri? Marlene? Monica?

My phone beeps.

Faithful: Kia

Me: WTF? I thought her name started with M

Faithful: Twin sister is called Mae

That's why I was thinking M. At least I was close unless the twin isn't identical. I would hate to be a twin. Especially an identical one.

Faithful: she's pissed at you

Me: why?

Faithful: you walked in on us

Me: you finger fucked both of them? I thought I saw you with the first girl Kia. I wouldn't have known it was Mae if you hadn't said anything.

There's a pause in his response or rather he keeps typing and typing. I watch the little typing icon taunting me. It's annoying. Just type and send, stop overthinking your answer.

Faithful stops typing and my phone rings. It's Faithful.

"Yaz, I'll be back in a minute, you keep watching."

Yaz nods, ramming more popcorn into her mouth. Her eyes don't even leave the screen. It's amazing how focused she is for a seven-year-old. I wish I was that focused.

I answer the phone as I walk out the living room and into the kitchen. "Faithful, both of them? You must have sore fingers today."

"Kia is pissed not Mae. I only hooked up with Kia. Ok?"

"Why is Kia pissed?"

Faithful sighs through the phone. "Not everyone has the same outlook on life as you, El. If she has a go at you on Monday, can you give her some slack? She's only upset because she's embarrassed you walked in on us."

"She shouldn't be embarrassed about having a good time, and she certainly looked like she was having a good time. I guess your reputation about being good with your fingers is true."

Faithful laughs. He's got a deep rumbling kind of laugh, one that makes you feel good about being responsible for it.

"I love your laugh, Faithful," I sigh.

"I know, you tell me regularly. Ryder says hi by the way."

"No, he didn't. He probably said 'Tell El to stop messaging me. I'm busy.'"

"Almost, he also said he'll call you later. Have a good night, El."

"You too." I end the call.

Kia and Mae. I need to social media stalk those two and figure out which one is which. What's the key difference between each twin? Otherwise, if I start talking to Mae about Faithful she's going to freak out. I head back into the living room and Yaz looks up at me.

"What's a fucker?" Yaz asks.

What the fuck? I glance at the TV expecting to be confronted with porn that she accidentally switched to but the Disney movie is still playing. Shit, did I say fucker on the phone to Faithful? No, I never swear in front of Yaz.

I'm actually amazing at not using inappropriate language around children or authority figures.
Years of being in trouble has taught me using them never helps my case and only makes my punishment worst.

"I'm not sure. Who used that word?" I ask warily.

"Mummy said it to daddy this morning."

"Oh... Maybe you miss heard her. She probably said ducker or mucker."

What other words could possibly be mistaken for fucker? Not many. And realistically, I know that's exactly what the mum said because whenever I babysit it's usually when the dad goes out. The mum always phones me last minute and heads out with friends. She can't go far because my instructions are to message her when her husband gets back. Ten to fifteen minutes after my message has been sent she arrives, drunk and babbling about how she had such an amazing time and how all these men were hitting on her saying she looked twenty not forty. Now either those guys really need to get their eyes tested because they're borderline blind or she's lying. I go with lying because I'm certain she's also fake drunk because when she pays me moments later, her counting skills are on point. No drunken extra notes are included, unfortunately.

I sit beside Yaz on the comfy couch. I wish our couch was this comfy. I wish our apartment was this nice. It's weird because it has the same layout but looks completely different. This place looks like a show home whereas my mum's place on the floor above looks like a charity shop regurgitated all its rejects items into our apartment.

Yaz's attention is back on the movie and she's already forgotten about her mum calling her dad a fucker. Her attention span is sometimes as short as mine, the only difference is I'd probably not forget that comment. I'd forget a million other things, but that nugget of information would stay.

Not that I have loads of memories of my dad and mum arguing, mainly because I don't have loads of memories of them together. He was always getting high until he died when I was nine. But the times he was around I remember, even though many of those memories I'd rather forget.

I look up at the screen but can't focus. Some big-eyed, small waisted figure is singing and making me feel bad about myself. Why do Disney characters who have hard lives or dead parents or been abused still act like the world's a fucking party they never want to leave? Even when they cry they look amazing. I cry and my face swells, my eyes go all puffy, fluid drips from several holes. I'm an ugly crier but isn't everyone unless they're faking it?

Like Teresa the self-nominated school bitch. I've seen her fake cry more times in the last week than I've gotten distracted. And I get distracted a lot.

Teresa is going to be so angry when she hears about Kia and Faithful. Teresa and Faithful used to date and since they've spilt, she's tried to sabotage anyone he's interested in since. For a while, I was her target due to me and Faithful being so friendly. She seemed to miss the memo that everyone else had received a year before, I'm not interested in dicks: both guys who act like them and have them.

The worst part was, I actually had a crush on Teresa for awhile. She was confident, always had loads of friends and walks around like the sun shines out her butthole. I stopped once she started her hate campaign against me, where she went from calling me 'a man whore who has fucked every player on every sports team in our school' until people pointed out I was into girls. After that, she said I was lying and was actually 'a greedy whore who would fuck any sports player male or female because I was desperate'.

Luckily, her hate campaign didn't last long however the time it did was horrendous. Being insulted daily, both to my face and via every social media app is hard to ignore. It was a shit five weeks of my life. Even with my friends by my side telling everyone it was all lies, and even though it was only a small group of people who continued the bullying, it still fucked with my head.

The worst part is they got away with it. I screenshotted everything, stored it all and showed it to my mum who took it to the school. I got a worthless and insincere apology.

Social media sucks when people do shit like that yet it's also so fucking good. Like now, because it means I can stalk Kia and Mae.

"Do you cry?" Yaz asks, turning to face me.

"Yeah. Everyone cries." I look up from my phone.

"Tommy in my class doesn't. He says only girls cry."

I roll my eyes. "Tommy's a liar. Everyone cries, and anyone who says they don't is not only lying but is emotionally stunted and will grow up to have unhealthy relationships and will suffer lonely isolated lives even when surrounded by people. And Tommy's not only emotionally stunted but he's a product of a society which supports males to be over-masculine. You should feel sorry for Tommy."

Yaz looks like her seven-year-old brain has just exploded. "Why?"

"Because everyone deserves to cry, just like everyone deserves to laugh."

Just like I could have cried this morning in frustration when I had the awkward 'I don't think we're going to work' conversation with Poppy. Her actions at last night's party confirmed we weren't going to work, she jumped to all the wrong conclusions then called me ditzy. I'm not ditzy.

I mean if a guy gets distracted or is forgetful he's 'carefree and chilled'. When a woman is forgetful she's 'ditzy' or 'away with the fairies'. It annoys me. A woman sleeps around she's a 'whore' whereas a guy is a 'player'. A woman uses curse words she's 'crude' and 'lewd' and 'unladylike' whereas a guy is a 'bad boy' and 'desirable'! I hate doubles standards.

The front door opens, and I get my phone out. If it's the dad, I have to message the mum, so she can come home pretending she had an amazing time out with her friends. I don't understand what she thinks she's going to achieve however I'm not going to complain. Her fucked up relationship means I earn money.

Walking into the hallway, Mr Tring, Yaz's dad, steps into the apartment. He sees me and rolls his eyes. "Don't text her. I'll go back out, come back in a few hours and you can text her then. You may as well benefit from our dysfunctional marriage. Unless you've got a party your rather be at?"

"Not tonight," I say.

"Ok. See you in a bit for the show." He leaves, quietly closing the door behind him.

Sometimes, it's good to know I'm not the only one fucking up life.

Author's notes

I love writing Ariel's POV because she's so full-on and has such strong opinions.

As you can tell this book is not dystopian which is completely different to my other stories. It's so much harder writing something which is meant to be real life!

Hopefully, you're enjoying. Please vote if you are xx