The Girl and Her Bunny
I was looking for a job — and prayed to God I didn’t find it — but my dear mother cheerfully informed me that a friend’s friends needed someone reliable to watch after their little girl. The child is seven. The pay is two and half bucks per hour, I could expect two hundred bucks per month. The girl is normal, quiet, I’m supposed to occasionally warm her up a meal and take her for a walk, the rest of the time I’m just supposed to be with her. So the child isn’t alone.
Now, average pay in Belgrade is about twenty-five bucks for a full-time job. The child is good, she isn’t too small either, so I couldn’t find any excuse not to accept. No matter how lazy I felt at the time. Perhaps it is funnier surfing Internet all night, and sleeping through the hottest time of the day, but I’m sixteen, it’s summer, and I’m old enough to earn my pocket money on my own. And to pay for surfing with my own money. At least that was my mother’s opinion, and my father supported her. And that’s how I became a baby-sitter.
All right, I had to talk to little girl’s parents first. They asked all sorts of questions — do I have a boyfriend, am I a good student, have I been baby-sitting before, etc. During the conversation they seemed to be bored, like they could hardly wait for it to be over so they could go someplace else. They probably wouldn’t notice even if I stated I was a maniacal killer and that I kept parts of children’s anatomy in my refrigerator.
They said they thought it was all right, they showed me refrigerator, stove, and a piece of paper with telephone numbers on it, they took me to the little girl (they haven’t even bothered to tell me her name) and they said they would be back by nine. Then they ran away and left me with the little one.
The girl was sitting on the grass and playing with her bunny. White bunny, red eyes. The girl said:
“Hello.”
“Hi,” I said. ”I’m Tamara.”
“I’m Maria,” she said. ”And this is Toby.”
“Hello, Toby,” I said and sat next to her.
“Toby says hello,” Maria informed me.
It was then that I noticed how they were playing. Maria held one end of the rope — it was a shoelace, actually — and Toby had the other end in its teeth. And they were dragging that shoelace each at it’s side. As if Toby was a puppy, instead of a rabbit.
For a moment I thought that Toby was letting Maria keep her end of the shoelace, that it could quite easily win. I shook my head. What a silly idea! Maria was small for her age — you know, fragile little girl with golden hair — but cute little white bunny stronger than her? Ridiculous.
Anyway, it was fun playing with them. While I was sitting in the afternoon sun, I didn’t feel that lazy anymore. Job isn’t that bad, after all.
I was baby-sitting almost every day, except for weekends. We were getting to know each other. We both liked Coke and chocolate with rice. Her favorite color was pink, mine green. And so on. I was reading stories to her quite often. She was glad when a mean, ugly witch was defeated, but she liked dragons and she always cried when they got killed.
“They are so beautiful,” she said. ”And they fly.”
After a pause, she added:
“Toby likes dragons, too.”
Like you could guess, Toby liked everything she liked.
One day, I found her with a bruise on her face. I was puzzled. She was a calm kid; besides, her parents were jerks who have fun and leave her with a baby-sitter for a half a day, but they didn’t look like people who beat kids.
“What happened?” I asked her.
“Daddy took me to the playground and one boy hit me,” she said. She didn’t look at me. She continued:
“He hit me hard. My daddy didn’t come to help me. He said I had to defend myself. Toby is angry now. Toby thinks I have to learn to defend myself too, but he also thinks I’m still a little girl and that dad should’ve helped me if the boy was much stronger.”
“Was he?”
“Yes. And much bigger than me. He was this big,” she spread her arms.
I had no doubts she was exaggerating about the boy’s size, but he sure was bigger than her. I glanced at Toby. He was looking at me as if he was waiting to hear what would I say. He (yes, he) looked, well, unnatural. Bunnies don’t look at people expectantly. And they don’t look so intelligent, as if they understood every word spoken. I remembered my first impression, that he was actually stronger than Maria. The idea wasn’t funny anymore.
“Toby is right,” I said. ”Your dad should have defended you.”
Toby looked pleased. He jumped into Maria’s lap. No, I can’t describe what the pleased bunny looks like. But I was certain he was pleased.
“Toby says I should bring him with me the next time. That he would defend me,” Maria said.
“Do that,” I said. It should’ve sounded ridiculous to me, you know. Cute white bunny defending blond little girl in a pink dress. But it wasn’t funny. Not at all.
The summer continued. Maria’s bruise disappeared and she was happy again. I have almost forgotten about the whole thing, and how I had felt at unease with Toby next to me. Once I asked Maria who did she get Toby from. She said she had awaken one morning and there he was, next to her on her bed. Her parents claimed they had not bought it, they had no idea where did it come from, but Maria was sure he was their present, for it was her birthday. She got lots of presents, she said, but Toby was the best. Except that I was quite sure her folks were telling the truth. That Toby came on his own. For some reason, he have chosen her. I don’t know what for. I’m not sure I want to know. But, like I said, I have soon forgotten all about it. The summer was hot, Maria was nice, and I didn’t feel like thinking disturbing thoughts.
Maria, Toby and I were playing, walking, I read her stories. Maria could read, of course, and she did read a lot, but no one has ever been reading to her before, and she liked it. We didn’t watch TV. Toby didn’t like television, he thought it made people dumb, and he didn’t want Maria to be dumb. At least that’s what Maria told me. I have never liked television much, so it didn’t matter to me.
The summer was coming to it’s end, and so was my job. The school was coming closer, which didn’t make me very happy. Maria wasn’t happy about it, either. She didn’t like the crowd, and she didn’t like the other kids, because they were teasing her for being so small.
“Don’t let them tease you,” I said.
“I won’t,” she replied. She didn’t look very much like a little girl who was hurt when a boy hit her and her daddy didn’t help her, but it looked like a good change. She seemed to get more independent, and with her folks being jerks, that was certainly useful. She asked me for stories about good witches, so I brought her “The Wizard Of Oz”. And all could end well. I could have spent the rest of my life in ignorance. I wouldn’t complain about it. At least I could sleep without fear.
But no, the two creeps had to show up.
Maria and me were in the yard, sitting on the grass. Toby was in her lap while I was reading something to her, I think it was “The Little Red Riding Hood”. The evening was hot and I was sweating, but it didn’t seem to bother Maria. And then I saw those two guys looking through the fence. They looked about thirty, unshaven, and dirty. I ignored them.
That was a mistake. They jumped over the fence. I jumped to my feet, and Maria hurried to hide behind me. Toby fell out of her lap, forgotten for the moment. The guys were quick; I realized we had no chance running into the house. No chance at all.
“Can I help you?” I tried to sound brave.
“Perhaps you can,” said one of them, while the other one was peeking, trying to get a better look at Maria.
“We are not interested in you, but your little girlfriend is very, very cute. Tell her to be nice to us,” said the first one.
Then I remembered the news. Two psychopath brothers escaped from prison. They were waiting for the trial for rape and murder of five girls. The girls were between four and eight.
I tried to think of something to say, of something to do to protect the little one. I was startled by completely unexpected sound.
Growling. Toby was growling. Rabbits cannot sound that way; their voices cannot be so deep. Toby didn’t care about that. He was growling.
The men laughed. The first one crouched and leaned forward.
“Cute little bunny,” he said. Not much for the famous last words.
Toby jumped on him, right on his face. And he bit. Those teeth… Suddenly Toby had teeth that no animal could possibly have, sharp teeth as long as he was. And claws of similar size. And he was biting and he was scratching.
The other man jumped back, terrified. He turned to run. Not that it helped him. Toby was done with the first one within fifteen seconds; what was left was undefined bloody pile of… Well, something. Toby jumped on the other man and bit off his head. Literary.
And Maria… I tried to hold her and not to let her look at all that. It’s no sight for anyone, especially for a little girl, but she didn’t let me hold her. She saw everything, just like me. And how Toby pissed on them when they were dead, and soon there was nothing left of them. There is no acid that strong, not as far as I know.
That was more than enough to terrify me, but it wasn’t over yet. Oh, no. Toby hopped to Maria, his white fur still perfectly clean, like nothing happened. Maria knelt. He bit at her finger — his teeth were normal again — and licked her blood. He didn’t take much. When he was done, the wound was closed. Maybe there was no scar left; I didn’t check out, but it wouldn’t surprise me.
“Since when you give him your blood?” I asked.
“Since that boy hit me,” she said. ”Don’t worry, he never takes much. He’s just a bunny.”
And, after a pause:
“You won’t tell my mom and dad, will you?”
“No, I won’t tell your mom and dad,” I said absently. I wouldn’t dare. Not that they’d believe me, anyway. And I don’t think that Toby would permit me to do that.
And that would be it. The summer vacation ended mercifully quickly, together with my job. I haven’t seen either Maria or Toby since… Except in my dreams.
I don’t dream of them often anymore. You see, I’m not lazy anymore. I found a half-time job. With school — and I have all A’s — I’m so busy that in the evening I just drop in my bed. Even if I dream, I can’t remember it. Thank God for small services.
This is an old story, and the first one that was accepted and published at a website with a real editor. It’s not the best story you could possibly read — far from it! — but I’m still fond of it.
