A maid and two brats

1

Debby

"Good morning Miss Anderson," 

"Good morning dear, I hope he did not trouble you too much today." She said with a broad smile that showed her wrinkles and cracked teeth. Her curly grey hair was half-covered in a pink scarf that matched her sleeping dress. I looked down at Rufus, who was still wagging his tail, excited with just as much energy as he was 5 minutes ago as we ran through the park. 

"He never troubles me," I leaned down and smoothed his furry skin, then brought out a treat from my back pocket, and gave it to him. He sniffed it, and in a short moment, he was licking the treat off my palm. "He's still a little excited, but he's good." 

"I'm glad to hear that," Miss Anderson said, stepping out the door to the front porch. "He's been in a mood lately. Do you think there's something wrong with him?" she asked, worry playing along her brown eyes that had shed more tears than any other I had seen. 

I crouched down, still holding the leash. I could not trust Rufus not to run off with so much adrenaline coursing through him. "He looks fine to me," I said after a quick check on him.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her face still filled with worry. 

"I'm quite sure, but if it makes you feel better, I'll pick him up after school. Bailey can check on him." Bailey owned a veterinary just a few blocks down, and I volunteered there at least twice a week.

"Please do dear." she held out the dollar bill she had taken from her purse under her arm and held it out to me. I loosened the leash from where it was wrapped around my other palm and held it out to her while I took the money from her. "Thank you so much," she said with a smile full of gratitude, and I turned to leave but stopped as I saw how much she gave me. 

"Miss Anderson," I called, and she turned back to me. "I think you gave me a little more than you should have." 

"I didn't." she had a small smile on her face. "You do so much for me and my dear old Rufus, I wish I had a lot more to give you." 

"But this is too much, I can't accept this," I protested. 

"I don't think an extra 30 dollars can be considered too much for what you do," she held her hand up to stop me from further protest. "I insist. I will be very hurt if you turn down this little token." 

"I don't think I can thank you enough for this." I stepped closer, stretching my hand out for a hug. 

"Don't you have to get to school?" she laughed, shooing me back.

I looked at the time of my watch. "Oh my God, I didn't realize I had spent so much time." I thanked her quickly and said goodbye to Rufus, who had his usual sad face on. 

Even in the ponytail, strands from my blue shoulder-length hair flew left and right in my face, as I raced down the street. As always, I am greeted by the strong smell of cigarettes and cheap alcohol as I climb up the old rusty stairs leading to run down, shabby apartment I had know as home for years. The blue and orange walls outside were now smoke-colored, and the rusted front porch looked like it would fall if two people stood on it for more than 5 minutes. 

It's not an unusual smell, given the neighborhood and my very addictive parents. But no matter how many mornings I woke up to that smell, I could never get used to it. It was the most disgusting smell ever, and it only reminded me of just how messed up my life was. 

Both my parents were alive, and I came home every day to meet them. Yet, I had to live like an orphan abandoned on the streets. At least they were decent enough to pay the rents—after many warnings from the owner. They switched from job to job more frequently than they spoke to me. Mom only ever spoke to me when she needed some money for her deals, which was ironic because it was meant to be the other way round.  

As I opened the front door, I could hear mom and dad arguing again, over God knows what now. I was too used to their fights to know they were never caused by anything meaningful. Sometimes it was about dad snoring too loud or mom using dad's stuff which was mostly his cheap liquor. 

I stealthily tiptoed past their small cubicle like room and raced into the bathroom. If I was lucky, I would make it out without having to face either of them. I put on a black pair of ripped jeans and a jacket that matched my blue hair and packed what I needed for school in my old knapsack. 

After wearing the only pair of snicker I owned, I threw my bag over my shoulder and checked to make sure the coast was clear before heading out down the hallway. 

I made my way down to the door the same way I came in and released a small sigh of relief as I reached the door successfully. "Deborah," a croaky voice called, just as I turned the doorknob. 

So much for not getting noticed. 

I turned around to find my mother in her cream shorts that had now turned to a darker shade and a green tank top. Her brown hair was in a thorough mess, and I was not sure it had received a drop of shampoo in days. "Are you leaving already dear?" she asked, taking a few steps closer to me. 

"I am," I said in a clipped tone. I checked my watch to see that I only had a few minutes left to catch up with the bus. 

"Okay honey," her tone easily slipped into the tone she used when she needed something. "Well, the thing is," she started slowly, walking closer as she spoke. "I need a few things, and I ran out of cash last night." she laughed nervously. "Could you maybe help mama with a few dollars, I'll pay you back I swear." she did her pouty face that did nothing to soften my heart. 

I looked back at the time on my watch. Five more minutes. I released an exasperated sigh and reached for my bag zipper. There was no need to waste my time pretending I did not know how this would end. I reached out for the fifty-dollar bill Miss Anderson had given me, and I was about to stretch it out to her, but my dad's voice stopped me. 

"Deb honey," he called as he came out from his room too. In any other world my father would have made it to the list of best fathers on the planet, he just married the wrong person. My mother was cold as ice, unreceptive, and what I would call a bad influence on my father. A sharp contrast to my cool, calm, and caring father, at least he was so when he was not pumped up with different substances. 

"How are you honey?" he shoved past my mom and hugged me. I wrapped my hand around him despite the strong stench of liquor, at least he bothered to hug me. 

"I'm good, but you don't look so good yourself." I teased, plucking a longer strand of hair from his overgrown hair. 

"Ow, that hurts,"

"Sorry," I chuckled, "You need a haircut."

"I'll get one soon," he promised. 

"And a bath." I continued. 

"Well I'd have to get one today too," he leaned down and whispered excitedly in my ear. "I'm getting an interview today." I could see my mom roll her eyes behind him. 

"That's such great news," I tried to put up a smile, even though I already knew how bad that would go. Dad had tried to get a job more than a few times before, but his bad record with substances always got in the way. Then there was the fact that the longest he had ever stayed clean was two weeks. Again thanks to mom and her bad habits. 

From the corner of my eye, I saw the time on the clock on the wall. I had less than 3 minutes to race to the bus stop or risk walking to school. "Dad, I want to hear all about your new job when I get back," I said hurriedly. "Mom, here you go," I stretched the dollar bill out to her, but dad caught my hand quickly just as she reached out to take it. 

"Dear, I think you would need that more," he said, glaring at my mother who was about to start protesting. "And I think your mom knows that too, right Claudia." his tone was cold, and his eyes, daring. 

Mom opened her mouth to say something but clamped her mouth shut and put up a toothed smile. "Of course, what was I thinking." 

"I'll see you later, Princess." he wrapped me in a squeezing hug, and I choked out, "too tight." He chuckled lightly before releasing his hold on me. "Alright, alright, get outta here." he ruffled my hair a bit, and I did a fake pout, "Dad," I cooed, trying to sound annoyed. 

I pushed my hair back and shoved the bill in my pocket. "Bye dude, Good luck with your interview," I said to dad and turned to leave. A part of me waited for my mom to say anything at all as I turned to leave. But as usual, she was silent, and only spoke when I banged the door shut. 

"Rick, what the hell was that about she almost gave it to me," she scolded without waiting for me to go far enough. 

"Have some shame, Claudia, that girl is just 17. I have made many mistakes, but I will not let you keep exploiting my daughter." Dad retorted but kept his voice as low as possible. 

"She's my daughter too, you know," mom shot back, and I rushed down the stairs, not wanting to witness another long argument between them. 

The bus had already left by the time I made it to the stop, yet I could not bring myself to be remotely upset at the fact. I did not mind having to miss the bus every day if it meant I would get to talk to my father everyday. I arrived at school a few minutes before the bell rang, and I raced inside, half prepared to face the next phase of my life. 

Thankfully first class went well enough without insults and teases from shameless assholes. Second class, not so well. I tightened my hand around my books and squared my shoulders. With a deep breath, I walked into the next class. 

"Hey, look everyone, it's our favorite weirdo." A voice too familiar called, and everyone burst out laughing. 

Well, here goes nothing. 

I raised my head to see Holly, the most annoying person anyone could dream of crossing. As usual, her minions occupied the two seats next to her while she sat on my desk, legs crossed, biting into an apple. She was a pain in my neck, a pain that I wished would go away, but always came back to see every school day.

Ignoring her, I walked in and stood next to my desk waiting for her to get the hint and get her butt off. But of course, she continued. "You're late," she purred with a fake pout. "There was no one to carry my bag pack today."

"I'm sure that's why you have two hands just like everyone else," I bit back with a sweet smile. 

"Ahh. You have grown wings little one," she brushed a hand through my hair, and I slapped it away. "I think I need to remind you just how quickly I can snap them shut." 

I took a deep breath, refusing to fall for her trap. "Holly can you get off my desk, I need to get ready for the class."

"Or what?

"Good morning everyone," Mrs. Matha walked in, and Holly pushed herself off the desk so fast she almost fell on her face. I managed to hold back my snicker as I took my seat while Hooly scrambled back to her back. 

"Good morning," A few students chorused back.

"Holly," Mrs. Martha called, pushing her glasses down to her nose. "Is that a skirt or a handkerchief around your waist, and why do you have an apple in my class?" 

"Well, you see Martha,"

"It's Mrs. Martha." she corrected sharply. 

"Yes, that. This," she did a perfect curtsy, holding the hem of the already short dress up, and continued, "Is a handkerchief skirt. I'm sure people of the older generations do not know what it was, but that's why I have a pair of pantyhose underneath."

"Actually, handkerchief skirts go way back to 1910," Alan said from his seat in front, and for once, I was thankful for his fast-thinking brain. 

"I knew that," Holly said, embarrassment washing through her. "No need to remind me. Also, I have an apple because..."

"Holly, just please sit down and put the fruit away." Mrs. Martha said in a bored tone, she was not the only one that was tired of her. Holly had a smug grin on her face as she tossed the apple into the trashcan skillfully and took her seat. 

The class went smoothly for the next few minutes until Mrs. Martha popped up a question that left me tense. My thoughts were so occupied I did not even remember the question that was asked, the only thing that stood out to me was 'parents occupation,'

Just as I expected, Holly did not miss the chance to taunt me. She was the only one in the entire class that knew just how messed up my family was, and she only kept it a secret because she loved the idea of the game of blackmail more than any other. "I think Debby has a lot to say on that topic," she purred and with what would look like an innocent smile to anyone else. "I heard your parents are entrepreneurs," 

I gave her a stern look but managed to keep my composure as everyone turned their focus to me. "Oh really, that's beautiful," Mrs. Matha said, oblivious to the tension rising in the room. "Tell me about what they do."

"Well um, my parents, are um..." I stuttered, trying to think of what to say. 

"They own a bar, the one downtown." Holly completed, knowing she had me where she wanted me. "That one where I always see them right?"

I turned to find all eyes still focused on me. "Right," I said, and I sank into the chair wishing, I had disappearing powers. But of course, no superpower helped me get to me struggle through the day until we finished school. 

Without waiting up for the bus, I ran out of school and headed to my next phase. The ice cream shop where I worked was a 10-minute walk from school, and I got there a few minutes before my best friend Sam. 

"Can you ever be early," I teased as she hurriedly put on her apron and the baseball hat that had the name of the shop? 

Sam and I had been friends since forever. She was the same age as me, and probably had more weight than I could dream of having. Not because she was overweight, but because I was too underweight to dream of adding any weight. Just like my parents, her father had a bad addiction too. Her mother threw him out when she was young. My parents could not throw each other out because they were just as addicted as each other, but at least, my dad was a good father, when he was sober—which was fewer than most times.

We lived just two blocks from each other, and although we did not attend the same school, we worked together and volunteered at the same jobs during summer breaks.  

"I had to take a few homework before coming." she took her place next to me, cleaning her side of the countertop. 

"You're lucky Gerald is not in." Gerald was the manager at the ice cream shop. Apart from the fact that he was the most disrespectful to his employees, he made a must please client policy that according to him, "Left people wanting more of our ice cream and good services."

That was not a hard rule to follow at first until the four most annoying humans ever to walk the planet found their new haven in rilling me up. It was a sunny afternoon so I was sure they would swing by, so I bombarded my mind with all the glib and sarcastic remarks and replies I could think of. They were handsome for sure, and I could tell they came from money given how even the owner of the shop kissed their asses every time he came by. 

"Are the assholes here yet?" she asked after serving a bowl to a table. 

"If they were, I would not be smiling," I said with a sweet smile. 

"Maybe they decided not to come today,"

I sure hope so. 

But as soon as the thought left my mind, I heard the roaring sound of an engine pulling into the mini parking lot in front of the shop. I tilted my head and looked at Sam as if to say, "speak of the devil."

Knowing what would follow, I traded my blue apron for the white they preferred and removed my suncap which according to them was almost as ugly as my face.

I could hear their sarcastic laughs from the parking lot, along with what sounded like a sob. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my pen and note, to take their orders. I looked at Sam, who had an amused grin on her face, "It's not funny Sam," I whined. 

"I'm sorry," she said but still made no efforts to hide her laugh. I would deal with her later, for now, the assholes were closer. 

"Just stay closeby," I warned her, "In case I decide to drive a fork into their balls this time."