The Sitter by R.L. Stine Read Free Book Online Page B

long, miserable, blank years.
    “Tell me about the kids,” I said. “There are two of them, right?”
    Abby nodded. “Yes, Heather turned two last week. She’s wonderful.”
    Chip snickered. “She’ll keep you busy. You’ll spend a lot of time chasing after her.”
    “And then there’s Brandon,” Abby said. She let go of her bracelets and shifted her position on the couch. “We have kind of a difficult situation here.”
    Uh-oh.
    “Uh . . . How do you mean?” I asked.
    “Well . . .” She hesitated. “How should I put this? Brandon is four, and up till a few weeks ago, he was fine. But . . . a few weeks ago . . . well . . . he stopped talking.”
    Abby stopped there. I think she was waiting for me to react. But I kept my face thoughtful, intent, and didn’t say a word.
    “He just went silent. We don’t know why, Ellie. Not a clue.” She brushed a tear from her eye with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to get emotional. But . . . it’s been hard.”
    Chip stood up and moved over to us. He squeezed Abby’s shoulder lovingly. “We have a psychiatrist here three times a week,” he said. “Dr. Kleiner. He’s been working with Brandon. Trying to figure out what upset the poor little guy.”
    “But he hasn’t made much progress,” Abby said, her voice breaking. She raised her dark eyes to mine. “Brandon has to be looked after constantly. I don’t want him left alone.”
    “Okay,” I said. “I understand.”
    “Hey, I think you should meet the kids,” Chip said. “They’re upstairs. I’ll go bring ’em down.” He set down his glass and trotted to the stairs, his bare feet thudding against the shiny wood floor.
    Abby smiled reassuringly at me. “I think you’ll really like them,” she whispered.
    I pushed myself to the edge of the couch. It was so soft, I found it impossible to sit up straight.
    I could hear Chip upstairs. “Come on down, kids. I want you to meet someone.”
    “Carry me!” said a little voice that had to be Heather. Then footsteps came clumping down the stairs.
    This is a horror story, remember.
    You know that, right? That this is a horror story I’m telling you.
    Well, here come the two kids.
    And there’s poor, innocent me, sitting there on the edge of the couch, waiting. Clueless as can be.
    And this is where the horror begins.

10
    C hip carried Heather on his shoulders. She held on to his ears and bounced as he walked.
    Brandon hung behind his father, as if trying to hide. He was a pale, slight boy, small for four, with serious, dark eyes, wild, curly, black hair that I immediately wanted to run my hand through, and a pointed, elfish nose.
    “Hi, guys!” I said.
    They both ignored me.
    “This is Ellie, your new nanny,” Abby told them.
    Chip set Heather down on the floor in front of me. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress over her diaper. She had fine, blond hair, a bright red butterfly barrette pinned at the top of her head. She had a round face and looked exactly like a tiny blond version of Chip.
    “Well, you’re a real cutie! You and I are going to have a lot of fun all summer,” I said. I started to pick her up—and she burst into tears.
    Bad start.
    Abby took the sobbing baby from me and held her. “Heather, what’s wrong?”
    Chip laughed. “Ellie, you’re hired. You have a way with kids!”
    “Stop it, Chip,” Abby snapped. “You’re not funny.” She turned to me. “You have to ignore his sense of humor. Everyone else does.”
    Chip picked up his drink and finished it—ice cubes, too.
    Heather instantly stopped crying. She put her finger in her mother’s nose and laughed.
    “Heather is a little shy with new people,” Abby explained to me. “After a few days, she’ll be poking her finger in your nose, too.”
    We both laughed.
    All the while, Brandon stared at us blankly. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his baggy shorts. He kept biting the inside of his mouth.
    It didn’t take a genius to tell