The Bad Boy's Nanny

Ch. 8 - Socializing

A week passed. Things have been much quieter in the house with Crystal, Rose, and Ethan gone for most of the day at camp. Elliott is still in summer school and Addison is always out with friends (Mike). I basically just have to watch Jonas and Bethany.

Jonas doesn't play soccer at the park anymore, since that's where Darren likes to hang out. I keep pushing him to invite friends over, but he never feels like it. As concerned as I am, I know he just needs time to heal.

"Ivy, I hate socializing!" Rose whines. "Why would you invite strangers over?"

"They're not strangers," I argue. "They're your neighbors."

This morning when I was getting the mail, Nora stopped me outside and guilted me into having them over for a dinner to get to know everyone. Honestly, I think it'd be good for the kids to meet the neighbors. Jett and Nora seem really nice.

"That Jett kid is strange," Crystal says. "I saw him walking his pet turtle."

"Yeah." Rose giggles. "He wears weird clothes."

"It's not very nice to judge people before you know them, girls," I say as I set the table with paper plates and plastic utensils.

They frown, but nod in agreement. I send them to pour the drinks for everybody before walking upstairs to check on Bethany. Seeing she's asleep for the night, I go to Elliott's room to ask if he's having dinner with us.

"Are you hanging out with Flynn tonight?" I ask when he opens his bedroom door for me.

"No."

"So, are you going to be able to have dinner with the new neighbors?"

He shrugs, throwing his dirty clothes into a pile on his bedroom floor. "I doubt it."

I nod. "Okay." My eyes follow his shirts as they fall into the growing pile. "What is that?" I walk over and lift a gray shirt, stained with red blood.

Elliott snatches it out of my hands. "I told you last week. I fell."

"Well, saying you fell gives people the impression you tripped over a rock, not that you fell out of a car."

"It was a really big rock," he mumbles.

I sigh in annoyance and step forward, taking the bottom of his shirt and lifting it up to see his back. Sure enough, thick red cuts cover his back, some fading into scars. It's quite gruesome.

He jumps forward and pulls his hurt down. "Woah there, at least by me dinner first!"

"Where did you fall from?" I ask, ignoring his comment. "A plane? Those cuts look serious, Elliott."

"I'm fine," he assures. "I thought we had a nice agreement about you not babying me like this."

I place my hands on my hips. "And I thought we had a nice agreement about you not dying while I'm here."

"It's just a few scratches." He picks up his backpack from the ground and throws it over his shoulders. "I gotta go."

"Where?" I ask, concerned for his well-being after seeing the cuts.

"The library," he mutters and rummages through one of his drawers in search of something. "My Spanish final is next week."

I nod. "What are you looking for?"

"My sombrero," he responds sassily, his anger starting to show. Once he finds a small card in his drawer, he heads for the door.