Free The Sitter by R.L. Stine

didn’t mean to wake you up,” I muttered.
    “Was it a dream, Ellie? That’s very normal, being in a new house. You know. The stress of a new job. And . . . well . . . this is a difficult thing. With Brandon acting so strange and all.”
    “I . . . no . . . it wasn’t a dream,” I said. “I definitely saw something.”
    I thought of Mrs. Bricker, that crazy old lady in town.
Stay away from the boy. It’s in the guest house. . . .
    That’s what she had said.
    The boy . . . the guest house . . .
    I suddenly felt so weary. Weary and embarrassed.
    “I’m really sorry I woke you up,” I said, avoiding Abby’s eyes. “I’m usually not crazy. I mean, I’m really very calm and responsible. You’ll see. I promise.”
    “I’m sure of it,” she replied. “Do you want some hot tea or some cocoa or something?”
    “No. Thanks. You’ve been so nice.”
    “Let’s forget this whole thing,” she said, walking me down the hall to my room. “A fresh start tomorrow—okay?”
    “Okay,” I said. I thanked her again and returned to my room.

    The next morning, sunlight poured through my open window. I glanced at the bed-table clock—nearly eight, and the room was hot already. My nightshirt was damp and twisted around me.
    I could hear the crash of waves at the beach and, closer, Heather screaming for more juice downstairs.
    I sat up in bed and stretched. I felt achy, still tired. I gazed around the unfamiliar room. Some of the shorts and tops that I’d bought in town were still tossed over the dresser.
    My first words of the morning—“I’m not crazy.”
    I saw something last night.
    I don’t hallucinate. I’ve never hallucinated in my life.
    Even during the long nightmare after Will died, even through all the guilt, all my crazy, irresponsible behavior, all the
bad
years, I always kept my hold on reality.
    I never went crazy.
    I never saw things that weren’t there.
    So what had I seen last night?
    I shook my head hard, as if forcing the thoughts from my mind. I pulled on some of my new clothes—a pair of white shorts and a pink sleeveless top.
    “I’m all new,” I told myself. “A fresh start today.” Isn’t that what Abby said?
    Okay. You got it, babe. A fresh start.
    I brushed my hair, made my bed, gazed out the window at the sparkling sunlight, and started to the stairs. My mobilephone rang.
    I felt a shiver of dread. Was it Clay?
    I checked the caller ID. “Hi, Teresa,” I said.
    “Ellie, hi. You didn’t change your number.”
    “No. Not yet.”
    “I’m standing outside my office. I don’t want to go in yet. It’s so hot here in the city. The sidewalk is melting. Really. My shoes are sticking. You’re so lucky to be at the beach. Hey, I thought you were changing your number.”
    “I didn’t get a chance. Everything took so long in town.”
    “Well, did Clay call again last night?”
    “No. Actually, he didn’t. Something else happened. I—”
    “Yaaaay. Maybe he was hit by a bus and dragged for twenty blocks, then flattened under the tires.”
    I laughed. Teresa always made me laugh. “Always look on the bright side, right?”
    “That’s me. Miss Mary Sunshine. Listen, Ellie—”
    My line beeped. Another call? I was popular this morning. “Teresa, catch you later. I’ve got another call.”
    “Later. Bye.”
    I clicked the FLASH button. “Hello?”
    “Ellie, where are you?”
    “Mom? Hi. I’m in my room. You know. My new bedroom. At the Harpers’ house in Watermill.”
    “You mean . . . you really took that job? I didn’t think you were serious. I mean, I hoped—”
    “Mom, yes. I took the nanny job. And I’m really happy about it. I’m looking forward to a great summer.”
    “A great summer? How about looking forward to a great career?”
    “Excuse me? Mom, the connection isn’t very good.”
    “You’re a baby-sitter? Isn’t that a job for teenagers? Ellie, did you lie about your age?”
    “Ha ha, Mom. We all know you’re funny. How’s Lucky? Did you