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1
Aura
I’m sitting in the back of a black Rolls-Royce as the driver pulls through a gate that leads to a sprawling mansion. My jaw almost hits the floor. I have never seen a house up close so big before. These people are insanely rich. The lawns are manicured and have hedges made into figures. The house looks like a celebrity mansion with acres of secluded real estate.
This is nothing compared to how I was raised. My parents lived on the other side of town, where the working-class people live.
The driver opens the back passenger door and gets my three suitcases out of the trunk. It’s everything I own––basically the clothes on my back.
My parents were out for a night on the town when they were sideswiped by a semi-truck and died instantly. Thinking about them brings a sting to the back of my eyes. Since my parents had loans on practically everything they owned, the bank sold the house, and all that was left was paid to creditors. I was left with nothing at seventeen. No money, no house, and no place to live.
My mother’s neighbor heard of an opening for a housekeeper nearby where she worked on this side of town. When the family learned of my situation, they spoke to the social worker, andrather than being sent to foster care, the judge granted them temporary custody for four months until I turned eighteen. The stipulation is that I work the maximum number of hours a seventeen-year-old can work after school, and they’ll provide room and board to include paid tuition to Spencer Academy for my senior year.
The double doors open, and a butler greets me.
“You must be Aura.”
I give him a nervous smile. “Yes.”
“I will have your belongings brought to the maid’s quarters so you can get settled in.”
The loss of my parents devastated me. I went to therapy and grieved for two months until the doctors were sure I was mentally stable. My friends back home promised they would be there when I returned, but I was closed off. Marcus promised he would call me and assured me our relationship wasn’t over, but that has faded too.
“Thank you.”
“Mrs. St. Claire will be down in a minute to give you a tour and tell you her expectations while you are here.”
As I nod, I hear the click-clacking of heels on the pristine cream marble floors.
“There she is.”
A woman in her late forties with an elegant chignon approaches, making my shift dress paired with my Converse feel out of place.
“Hello, Mrs. St. Claire. My name is Aura.”
“Yes, yes, I know, dear. Miss Locke, your neighbor, told me so much about you. I trust her judgment, and she only said great things. I met with the social worker, and she assured me that everything had gone smoothly with the paperwork. I have taken the liberty to enroll you at Spencer Academy. Mr. St. Claire donates a hefty sum to the school every year so the principalwas considerate enough to grant us an exception to have you enrolled.” She looks down at my worn sneakers, and I can tell by her expression she doesn’t approve. She tries to play it off when I catch her scrutiny by giving me a dry smile. “I hope the trip over was easy.”
“Oh yes, ma’am. Everything was perfect. I had no issues on the drive over.”
“Please call me Diana. Ma’am makes me feel so… so old.”
“Okay, Diana.”
Looking at her closely, I notice her perfect bone structure and flawless complexion, which could only come from Botox and a good dermatologist.
She leads me toward a staircase to the second floor. Once we reach the landing from the marble staircase that leads to a hallway, there is a room next to the laundry room. She opens the door, and at the foot of the full-size bed are my three suitcases.
“This is your room. The rest of the house staff stay in the downstairs wing. I put you in this room next to the laundry room for convenience and the fact that you’re younger. After school, I will need you to work for four hours cleaning the second floor and laundry. When you graduate, the head housekeeper, Miss Jean, will give you a detailed schedule. For now, I just need the second floor, including Kalum’s room, cleaned, and when his friends are over, you’ll tidy the mess they make. Miss Jean has had it with their messes.”
She points at a wall-to-wall closet with four school uniforms hanging neatly pressed. “These are the school uniforms we picked up from the cleaners. The dry cleaner comes for pickup every Thursday before you head to school, and delivery is every Saturday in the afternoon. Since there is no bus transportation, you will ride with Kalum to and from school.”
Camila told me the St. Claires had a son the same age as me. She said that Mr. St. Claire was an equity investor tycoon and that I was in good hands.
The St. Claires would also give me a weekly two-hundred-dollar allowance as a perk for agreeing to stay with them and take the job after graduation.
When Mrs. St. Claire leaves the room, I sit on the bed and look around. It’s more luxurious than any room I’ve ever had. The room has a mini-fridge and flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. Everything is nice and fancy, but it isn’t home, and my parents are not here. My mother was a loan officer, and my father worked as an assistant manager at a lumber store. My parents met in college, and my mother fell pregnant. She finished school, but my father had to drop out and get a job to support us.
It was rough sometimes because they lived paycheck to paycheck and could only afford the necessities. I went to public school my whole life, but my parents’ love made up for my lack of luxury at home. I couldn’t have asked for better parents. I take in my surroundings with a heavy heart. No more home-cooked meals or nightly talks with Mom and Dad on the front porch. They are gone, and now it’s just me.
