Page 1 of Puck Your Nanny

Chapter 1

I'm scrolling through yet another nanny job posting.

Must be fluent in Mandarin and willing to relocate to China bi-yearly.

I'm seriously considering just giving up.

My stomach twists. I can't do that. I mean, the giving up part. I don’t know Mandarin, though. And China is not exactly on my list of must-live places.

I pause, my mouse hovering over the X on my laptop screen. Things have been tense lately with Freda and Brent, my roommates. It’s been like walking on eggshells for weeks—whispered conversations, pointed silences when I enter a room.

And Brent. I really don’t like him.

I shove the laptop aside, the springs in my ancient mattress groaning in protest. I’ve been trying to ignore the tension. I hate confrontation. But it’s getting harder.

It’s been eight months since I moved in, after I lost my au pair job. My actual, good-paying au pair job of three years, when the Millers up and moved to Switzerland. Suddenly. 'No Daisy, you’re part of the family, come with us.'Nope. Just a, 'So sorry for the short notice. We don’t need you anymore; the kids are getting older.'

"Daisy!"

Freda’s voice floats up the stairs, tight and a little too cheerful. That’s the worst part. The cheerfulness. It means that the thing I know is coming is coming.

I freeze. Oh God. This is it, isn’t it?

My stomach does a full-on nosedive.

"Daisy! You coming?"

Freda again. Still too bright.

"Yeah, yeah." I push myself up from the bed. Might as well get it over with. I head down the narrow staircase, trying to look casual, even though my insides are doing the jitterbug.

Freda’s perched on the edge of the sofa, fiddling with the frayed edge of a cushion that she’s holding over her stomach.

Brent, of course, is sprawled in my armchair—the only piece of furniture I brought with me—laptop balanced on his knees, fingers flying across the keyboard. He doesn’t even look up. He is always on that thing.

There’s a small coffee table between the sofa and armchair, a couple of mismatched chairs scattered around. It’s a tight space, especially with three people in it.

I force a small, "Hey." I settle into one of the smaller chairs, the one closest to the window, pulling my knees up a bit.

Freda offers me a wobbly little smile, but her eyes dart away, refusing to meet mine. She pushes a mug toward me across the coffee table. It’s chipped and has my name on it.

I don’t reach for it.

Brent clears his throat, finally looking up from his laptop, though he doesn’t close it. He gives me an almost-smirk that he wants to pass off as a smile.

"So, Daisy."

He pauses, letting the silence hang for a beat too long.

"When you moved in, I thought it would only be for six months."

My stomach clenches. Thought? That’s not what he said. I remember him beaming at me, all fake-friendly, saying,'No timeline, Daisy! Stay as long as you need!'The day I moved in.

'Help Freda’s best friend? Of course!'

Two-faced. That’s what he is.

I keep my face neutral, though. No point in giving him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm.

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