Page 5

Chapter Fiv e

Maggie

PRESENT (Winter, Senior Year)

" I can't decide if the writing is terrible, the acting is terrible, or if it's just the subtitles." I lean back against the sofa’s armrest, kicking my feet onto Silas' lap. We’re on episode three of Absolute Boyfriend, our latest J-drama obsession.

Silas was my childhood friend and neighbor back in Allerston Lake. Now, he’s my foster brother. A gory tragedy, two years in juvie, and a stint in rehab led to his aunt washing her hands of him—until my mom stepped in and took guardianship this summer.

Even wilder? He’s dating Sandy Haven Prep’s uber-bubbly keener, Jackie Delaney—the sunshine yin to his dark and stormy yang. I never would’ve called that one. But four months in, they’re still going strong. And he’s been sober for three.

He's still a broody, sarcastic son-of-a-bitch, though. That much hasn't changed.

He shifts to accommodate my feet. "Think it’s the plot," he says, stuffing popcorn into his mouth.

"Yeah…" I watch another scene unfold. "You might be right. But it’s still so freakin' addictive , right?"

"I’m barely paying attention," he deadpans. Which is a lie. Silas gets more into these dramas than I do, which makes zero sense given his whole gruff, cynical, bad-boy aesthetic. He wears biker boots and jeans, even in the summer. Is saving up for a motorcycle. Looks like he could bench press a motorcycle, if a situation called for it.

We sink into our show while, across our small but cozy living room, my mom ignores the melodrama in favor of her latest book, curled up in her faded floral recliner. Her whole demeanor is relaxed. Content. She's had this glow about her ever since she opened Board and Brews.

It's doing well, too. Already becoming a popular hangout spot for locals. Silas and I work there as much as we can after school and on weekends. Still, it'll be awhile before the café turns a profit. Startup costs are brutal, even with the small business loan mom secured. We're looking at months of living on rice and beans again, stretching every dollar until the café is in the green. But we did it before, and we'll be fine doing it now.

"Oh,guyyys…" mom swoons. "Things are really heating up!" She fans herself dramatically with her tattered paperback.

My mother only reads two types of books: niche non-fiction tomes about weirdly specific neurological disorders… and historical romances. One glance at the cover—a swooning woman in a purple satin gown and shirtless guy against a dramatic ocean backdrop—tells me this evening's fare is of the corny romance variety.

"Is the pirate finally boning the kitchen wench on the poop deck?" Silas asks in his signature lazy drawl.

"Silas!My God." Mom attempts a scandalized scolding but fails miserably, laughing as she adds, "And Nate is a duke, not a pirate."

" Nate? " Silas scoffs. "Sounds like an accountant."

"It’s short for Nathaniel."

"Even worse."

"And he's a duke pretending to be a pirate," Mom corrects. "His brother pushed him overboard in the Amazon to steal his fortune, but Nate survived, and now he’s sailing home to reclaim it."

Silas shakes his head. "Dude would’ve been better off becoming an accountant."

"Shhh!" I hiss. "You guys, I'm trying to watch the show. "

"Just saying." Silas twists to look over at my mother. "Not like he's gonna get any action anyway, with a name like Nate. "

Ha!" My mother points at him with her dog-eared bodice ripper. "That's where you're wrong! He is! In the galley… right now with Clarissa."

Silas chuckles. "Nate, you dog . "

Mom fans herself dramatically. "Things are getting spicy below deck."

"Oh my gawwwd…" I groan. "Guys, seriously. Can you not?"

"Try telling that to Nathaniel the horny Duke." Silas smirks. "Boning Clarissa against the butcher block."

Mom dissolves into squeals of laughter, still fanning herself with the book for some reason.

I hurl popcorn at Silas, but he just catches most of it in his mouth. "Out at sea, by candlelight, no less," he croons in an obnoxious, corny voice.

Mom wheezes.

"Mom!" I call over her cackling. "Don't encourage him."

"When the waves are a-sloshing…" She giggles.

"Don't come a-knockin'!" we all chime in. Even me, because if you can't beat 'em…

The shrill ring of my phone cuts through our laughter.

It's an unknown number.

"Hello?" I'm still chuckling as I answer, helping Silas retrieve popcorn from the couch cushions.

"Yes, hello… Is this Maggie LeClair?" A friendly but formal-sounding woman asks.

"Uh, yes. That’s me." I slap a hand over the receiver, gesturing frantically for Mom and Silas toshut upas they continue dissecting Nathaniel and Clarissa’s torrid love affair.

"Oh, hi, Maggie! This is Denise Semble. I got your number from the manager at the Welsford."

The Welsford? What the heck?

Mom and Silas are still clucking in the background like a couple of middle schoolers, so I escape down the hall, shutting my bedroom door. " Uh, okay…?"

"I'm Jacee Rockwell's personal assistant," she continues. "We met a few times at the kid's club when I picked Finn up."

No doubt there’s something appropriate I should say here, but I have no idea what that might be. I am so confused right now about why Jacee Rockwell's personal assistant would be contacting me. "Right. Yeah. I remember."

I sit on the bed, ram-rod straight.

"Wonderful!" She sounds pleased. "Well, Maggie, I'm calling because I have a job proposition for you."

"Oh my God… I think I want to do it." I clutch the throw pillow against my chest.

Mom watches me calmly from the kitchen table. "You can wait a couple more days to make a decision, hon. It was just two days ago Denise called."

"I know… but a few days won’t change my mind. I’m ninety-nine percent decided." I throw my head back. "It’s a great opportunity."

It's crazy. Me—temporary live-in nanny. For Finn. At the Rockwell Estate.

Their latest nanny quit (clearly a pattern), and Finn has apparently insisted since the summer that the only nanny he wants is me. Which is… really flattering.

At her wit’s end, Denise figured she’d take a shot, even if hiring a part-time high school student isn’t exactly conventional. It’d be temporary, buying them time to find a full-time, long-term fit.

Yeah, it’s unconventional, but also really appealing.

"Don't just make the decision based on the money, Maggs," mom tells me. "We are going to be fine. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I do."

But also—the nanny salary makes my Welsford job look like pocket change. Enough that I could help Mom keep pursuing her dream—and fast-track mine, too .

I build miniature dystopian dioramas—post-apocalyptic ruins, neon-drenched cityscapes, entire worlds shrunk down to the size of a shoebox. My YouTube channel is gaining some traction, but supplies are expensive. I need a pro airbrush to up my graffiti game, better materials, plus business and specialized miniature skills courses I want to enroll in after graduation—all things that would leave me with big loans.

But this job? It could change everything.

And yet… it isn't just about the money, either.

"I swear, Finn is the cutest kid ever." I stretch out along the couch and peer over at my mother as she reinforces the back of a game board with duct tape. "You would love him. He's just… so sweet, and precocious, and larger-than-life. And he's got the most infectious giggle. And comes up with the zaniest game ideas."

"But don't forget the meltdowns." Mom is playing devil's advocate, which I'm grateful for.

Honestly, I was a little stunned she was even open to the idea. But once she spoke to Denise and had all her questions answered, she was surprisingly chill about it. Denise explained it's more of an occasional after-school and weekend babysitting job than traditional nannying position, except I'd be sleeping there a few nights a week.

Another game-changer for mom is the fact that Denise lives on the Rockwell Estate with her own family and is always just a few minutes away. Mom hit it off with her. I think because she respected that Denise felt strongly that school would still be my top priority, assured her I'd get plenty of time off, come home every week… and that there are plenty of people on staff to step in any time I might need a last-minute break or whatever. There’s even a woman, Rita, who fills in when the “regular” nanny is off. And their driver would do most of the school and activity drop-offs and pickups.

"Finn is literally impossible not to love." I sigh. "Even though he's spoiled rotten. The kid is a total scallywag, but also… perfection."

"He sounds adorable," mom chuckles. "It would certainly be an experience, that' s for sure."

I think maybe, in a way, my mother sees this as her opportunity to make up for the fact that, for money reasons, I wasn't able to do the exchange I had wanted to do to Europe last year. And yeah, obviously, this wouldn't be the same thing, but it could still be a good compromise to a live-away experience. Something new and challenging and independent from my mother, while only being a fifteen-minute drive away.

And yeah, the job would be hard. But I could do it. I’d be a rockstar nanny. I'm used to working with kids and juggling an after-school job. For years I've helped my mother babysit the foster kids she's taken in, or the occasional times she ran an after-school babysitting service at our home.

It's a no brainer. I need to accept the position.

Except…

Except… there’s freaking Xavier.

I’d have to live with him . The infuriating smirk. That perma-chill attitude teetering dangerously between confidence and straight-up arrogance. And the worst part? His helicopter brother routine every time I set a boundary with Finn.

I roll onto my stomach, groaning into the throw cushion on the couch.

"You alright over there?" Mom laughs.

"Decisions suck," I whine.

"Decisions are a gift."

"What—are you like Dumbledore now, or something?" I lift my head enough to grin over at her.

She deliberates for a second. "Maybe not that wise, no. But I've wracked up my share of wisdom over the years."

"Meh." I shrug. "Still no beard."

This time we both laugh. Then I plop my face back into the cushion.

God—why am I even hesitating? It’sinsane.

This totally unique opportunity…

That salary …

And Finn…

A surge of anger bolts through me. Am I really going to let Xavier Rockwell make me doubt myself? Or dictate my decisions?

Two years ago, I let some rich kid’s entitlement steal my art scholarship. I swore I’d never let that happen again. And here I am, considering passing up a life-changing opportunity because—what? Some trust-fund brat might make snide comments about my clothes?

Xavier’s just a high school senior, same as me. Strip away the mansion and the fancy toys, and what’s left? A guy who throws too many parties, dates too many girls, and can’t say no to his little brother.

He’s not some all-powerful overlord. He’s just…some dude.

No more letting privileged jerks stand in my way.

I jump to my feet, turning towards my mother. "I'm doing it."

Mom pauses, her right hand holding one end of the tape. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

She gets up and jogs over to give me a high five. "You've got this, Maggs."

"Thanks." I hug her.

"I mean it." She pulls back. "You're going to be amazing. Finn Rockwell is a lucky boy."

My chest swells. I grab my phone and type the text to Denise.

Maggie

I'd love to accept the position. When can I start?