California

MIcah threw his keys onto the kitchen island when we entered his apartment.
"Brooke, you home?" he yelled. HIs voice echoed throughout the apartment.
Micah and Brooke lived in actually not that bad of an apartment, for eighteen year olds. From the front door, there was the living room on the right and the kitchen to the left. Then there was a long hallway directly in front of the door.
"Yeah!" a voice said. Micah told me which room was which as we walked down the hallway. The first door to the right was his. THe second to the left was the bathroom. The third to the right was my room, and the last to the left was Brooke's. There was a sign on Brooke's door: NO ENTRY UNLESS GIVEN CORRECT PASSWORD.
"She serious?" I asked Micah about the sign. He shook his head.
"Only to people who don't live here, or who aren't super close to her," he explained and knocked on her door. It opened, and a girl my height appeared. She had hair the color of fire and brown eyes.
"Hi!" she greeted with a smile. "What's up?"
"Her name is JC, from New York. Met her on the train back," Micah said.
"I thought you were getting back from meeting with the 'rents in like, two days."
"Got back early. Emily was sick,"
"Come in!" Brooke pulled me into her room. The walls were pale green and A-list actors filled them all. Her bed had star comforters, half of it being covered with pillows. She had skylights only and a small desk with a laptop sat in the corner. She had a stuffed Eeyore and Oliver in another corner and a flat screen mounted on the wall facing her bed. "So, from New York, right?"
"For God's sake, Brooke, don't start bombarding her," said Micah. She giggled and shut the door in his face.
"Don't listen to him. He's a joy kill," she said. "Before we get to really know each other, we need to go to over some ground rules. One: Never come into anybody's room uninvited. Both Micah and I are big on privacy. Two: Get a good paying job by... tomorrow. Rent ain't cheap here. You'll have to pay about...$350. Not that much. And the final rule: Don't bring any guys home without telling Micah or me. That's it. Deal?"
"Um... yes?" I said.
"Great! Then get settled, and I'll take you around!"

After unpacking, Brooke took me to a frozen yogurt place, Tiny Tina's.
"I work in Hollywood, as an assistant for one of the extras. It's not a lot, but it sure pays a lot. My dream is to become an actress, though. Micah wants to do something technical. Web designer, I think. Yeah, that's what it is. What about you? What are you majoring in?"
"Business. I want to be the CEO of my own company, like my dad was. But to get there... I don't how to do that..." I said and took a bite of my yogurt.
"Oh. Cool! They make the big bucks," Brooke nodded.
"Speaking of money, know any good jobs around here?" I asked.
"I do!" the owner, Tina, came up to our table said. She put down a glass of water in front of me that I ordered about a minute ago. "Tiny Tina's. Ever heard?" Brooke giggled.
"How did I not think of that?" she asked herself.
"There's a waitress spot that's open. Plus, the pay is good," Tina smiled.
"Great, I guess..." I said. Won't be enough for rent. I suppose I'll just have to pull two jobs. Like my daddy always told me: "If you want to know what God thinks about money, just look at the people He gives it to."
"Perfect! Can you start tomorrow, at nine?"
"Sure,"
"Fantastic! See you tomorrow!"
"See you," I waved, and Tina went to another table. "That was easy"
"Too easy... I had to wait a week before I was accepted. Micah was breathing down my back saying to get a job soon or 'else'" Suddenly, Brooke gasped, causing people to look, but she didn't seem to notice. She patted the table with both hands. "I know somewhere else where you can work, and you will absolutely love it! You like kids?"
"Yeah. Used to work at a daycare in New York. Why...?" I asked suspiciously.
"Come. With. Me. Now!" she threw six bucks on the table, and dragged me out the door and into her Chevy. We drove to where all the rich people lived, in all the fancy houses. Brooke stopped in front of a house with gates and guards as protection. The house was the color of the kitchen island back at the house, and you could see a pool the shape of a jellybean in the back of it. It was about a million times bigger than a jellybean, though (obviously).
"Brooke Farway. She knows me," Brooke said in a know-it-all tone when we got the front guard. He said something into a chip in his ear, waited a few seconds, spoke back, and nodded at us. The gates opened and the two of us walked into the house/mansion. As soon as we entered, it was nothing like the exterior.
Two little boys in matching cowboy outfits ran by us, shooting water guns at each other. A girl wearing five-inch heels walked by talking loudly on a cellphone. Another little girl was putting on makeup in front of a window. She looked like a clown.
"Die!" a probably seven-year old boy yelled as he beat up a girl maybe a year older than him with a plastic bat. "Die!"
"Brooke, hi!" a woman walked into the room with two squealing toddlers in her hands. Oh. My. God. "Who's this?"
"Mrs. Emerson, this is JC Reddick. Says she used to work at a daycare," Brooke introduced me. Wait, was this what she was talking about?
"Hello, JC, nice to meet you. My name is Diana Emerson. Call me Mrs. Emerson, please," she shook my hand. She was wearing a sparkly gold gown and ten-pound earrings.
"Well, JC, how about it?" Brooke asked. "It's about I think... like what, $200?"
"An hour, yes," Mrs. Emerson confirmed. I almost fainted. 200 bucks an hour? For taking care of kids?
"Yes!" I said and smiled.
"Perfect. Here's your schedule, and a list of things you need to know about the kids," Mrs. Emerson shoved three pieces of paper into my hands, even with the two toddlers. "I'll see you Monday. Goodbye." Mrs. Emerson shooed us off, and Brooke and I left.
"Isn't this great?" Brooke asked when we started driving back. "You got two jobs now! Even though you only need one right now. But the extra money can come in good, right? Man, you're so lucky! But I have to warn you, eight kids is a lot to handle. But the good thing they're equal. Four boys, four girls. So it's balanced out." I looked at my schedule, ignoring the list of things. I work weekdays only, from noon to six. Today's Friday, and I have Tiny Tina's tomorrow. What joy.
"Can you read me the list of things the kids need? I can't wait to hear this," Brooke said with excitement in her voice.
"Okay. First..." I took out page one of two and started reading off the names. "Oh no."
"What?"
"There's twins," I looked over at her. "Two sets of twins."
"Haha!" Brooke teased. "Read the names"
"The oldest is Bridget, 13. Then Kelsey, 10. Vance, 8, and Gisela, 6. Jace and Mason, 4. Finally, Zander and Juliana, age of one year old. Brooke!"
"Yes?"
"How am I going to take care of a teenage GIRL, a fourth grader, two kids, toddlers and babies?"
"Well, the teen can help you," Brooke suggested. I gave her a look. "Okay, the teen can take care of herself. The fourth grader is really no problem. The kids only take away a bit of energy, the toddlers are distracted by anything, and... the babies... will sleep."
"You are really something, aren't you?" I asked, and we laughed.
When Brooke and I got home, it was only around 3PM.
"We're home!" Brooke yelled when we got inside. Micah was in the living room playing the XBOX 360.
"'Sup," he said. Brooke handed me a pair of keys.
"These are all the necessary keys to the house. I texted Micah on the way back to get them for you. There's the house keys and mail key. Also, on the keychain, there's a small piece of paper with my number, Micah's number, Tina's number, Mrs. Emerson's number, and the nearest hospital's number. Just in case," she said. I took the keys and thanked her. Brooke turned to face Micah.
"Dude. Get off," she said.
"No," he didn't take his eyes off the screen.
"I'm sure JC here would like to go the art museum. Right?" Brooke asked.
"She does?" Micah paused his game.
"Yeah!" said Brooke.
"What?" I asked.
"You'll like it. It has all this cool art that people made in the last couple of days. It's an updated art museum, so there's always new stuff. Wanna go?"
"Brooke, I-"
"She'll go!"
"Great," Micah saved his game of whatever it was and turned off the XBOX. "Let's go."

Brooke was like a little girl having the best Christmas of her life in that museum. Whatever piece of art she saw, it was an immediate "Ooh!" or "Look how cool this one is!" Sometimes it was even "How friggin' awesome is this thing? Pretty friggin' awesome!"
Micah and I stopped in front of a painting. It had blue, green, yellow, red and orange mixed all together in this weird, sort of abstract way.
"That one's ugly," commented Brooke, and she skipped along to a sculpture.
"What do you think it's supposed to be?" Micah asked about the painting. I shrugged.
"I know nothing about art, so don't even bother asking me," I said.
"Micah!" someone loudly yelled and gasped at the same time. Micah and I turned around to find a girl with a chihuahua in her purse jumping up and down. What the fudge?
"Oh, Lord," Micah whispered.
"Ah!" she screamed and jumped into a hug that Micah didn't give in return.
"Please get off," he pleaded.
"I missed you!" she said and let go. She had a weird contraption in her hair making her look like a bird. Her chihuahua started whining. "Remember me? I'm Ashley! With Sparkle Pony, see?" she held out her chihuahua, who was wearing a dress and shaking like a maraca.
"Never thought I'd see you again," Micah rubbed the back of his neck. I knew that move. It's the "I-used-to-date-you-but-I-dumped-you-pretty-harshly-and-I-hoped-to-never-see-you-again move. Ashley suddenly turned to me and her smile was gone. Instead, she gave me a look.
"Who's this tramp?" she questioned.
I have anger issues. Like, serious anger issues. I've been to a therapist and everything, but nothing can cool my temper down. So when this piece of mental maniac called me a tramp, I without a doubt lunged for her.
"JC!" Micah held me back while I gave her only a good slap. That sent her crying.
"Son of a-"
"Excuse me," a security guard came up to us and made a surprised look. Micah holding me from the waist, Ashley wailing by now, and Sparkle Pony the chihuahua licking what looked like ketchup off the floor near the painting. "There's been a complaint about the noise level here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"Guys, look!" Brooke came running and stopped. She looked at Ashley, and her eyes widened. Then she looked at Micah and me, and raised an eyebrow. "Never mind...?"
"Come on, we're leaving," Micah quickly let go, allowing me to breathe, and left the museum. Brooke and I followed, leaving Ashley and her poor dog behind.
"She's a crazy ex-girlfriend," Micah said as we walked back to the apartment, answering my mind's question. "Broke up a while back. Before I ever met Brooke."
"That explains a little," I said. "I only feel bad for her dog"
"I'm gonna go lay down when we get home and... Think about what I saw," Brooke suddenly said. "And not about Ashley and her dog" she turned to face me, then Micah. A smile crept onto her face.
"Oh no," Micah said. "No, no, no, Brooke, don't get started up on your ideas."
"He was just holding me back while I made an attempt to kill Ashley," I said.
"Sure, okay," she said slyly. We walked into the building and waited for the elevator. "Whatever you say."
We got upstairs and I took a hot shower. Please. Micah? Me? That's like trying to set up water and oil, or God and the devil himself. Yeah, his eyes were beyond beautiful, and his hair is perfectly messy, but come on. Dating's based on personality, not looks. Well, yeah, looks, but not everything is about the exterior of a person, right?
Eh. Who am I kidding.