The Babysitter's List

The CampfireThe openingFree

I babysat for a lot of families in high school. This is about the Hallorans.

They lived in a big old house at the end of a long gravel road, out past the edge of town, with woods on three sides. Two kids. Owen, who was seven, and Lily, who was five. Sweet kids. Quiet kids. A little too quiet.

Mr. and Mrs. Halloran were nice. Normal. They paid well. They went out on Saturday nights, to dinner and a party in the city, an hour away.

The first time I sat for them, Mrs. Halloran walked me into the kitchen and pointed at the fridge. There was a sheet of paper stuck to it with a magnet. Typed. Numbered.

"Our list," she said. "Please follow it. All of it. Exactly. Even if it seems silly."

She smiled when she said it. But she held my eyes a second too long.

I read it after they left.

The first rules were normal.

1. Bedtime is 8:30. Owen can read until 9.

2. No sugar after 7.

3. Lily needs her nightlight on. If it goes out, there are bulbs in the drawer by the sink.

4. Don't let the kids open the back door.

Then they got a little stranger.

5. If the kids ask you to play the Quiet Game, say no.

6. If you hear someone walking in the attic, it's the house settling. Don't go up.

7. If the kids say there's a man in the attic, tell them yes, and tell them he's asleep. They'll calm down.

8. Don't go into the attic.

And then:

9. If we come home before midnight, don't open the door. We will never come home before midnight.

10. Call us anytime. We will always answer.