Working at the Thompson house was anything but a joyride. I had to deal with pissed off madams, dramatic teenagers and even grumpy coworkers. Hence, the cook — Abigail White who was currently scolding my ears off about the importance of not making conversation with Miss Avery.

"I already warned you Amelia." She shook her head disappointedly. "We're their employees, not their friends. You shouldn't feel so comfortable while talking so comfortably to Miss Avery."

"She's six years old!" I argued. "She asked if I watched strawberry shortcake and I had to answer her didn't I?" I huffed out a frustrated breath as I packed the bowl I've been drying into the outdated, yet elegant brown cabinet.

Being a maid in this house was stressful. I didn't know whether to run or hide sometimes and Miss Avery, the youngest of four daughters made my job that much harder. Being six years old, she didn't understand the unspoken rules of rich kids and their maids. She would always try and speak to me as if we were friends and her big innocent dark blue eyes and small smile made it hard to ignore her. She was adorable.

"You simply had to excuse yourself and..."

"Miss head too high up in the clouds wants some sparkling water." Harper groaned as she came into the kitchen, saving me from my thousandth lecture from Abigail.

"Harper. Do not speak of your employer that way." Abigail barked once more. "Ugh, you young ones really need to work on your manners." She huffed as she opened up the huge silver fridge.

"We don't need to do that, those children inside needs some manners." Harper argued with a roll of her eye.

Harper was only twenty years old and was the only one who had no trouble with saying exactly what she wanted to Abigail, the head of the help and the Thompson's oldest worker.

"Harper. Take this to Miss Evelyn." Abigail demanded, ignoring Harper's reply. "Go now. You girls are giving me a headache." She ushered Harper out of the kitchen but Harper didn't budge.

"Amelia." She called innocently with bashing eyelashes and tone of voice I knew all too well. "Could you please take this to the table?" She asked, her sweet tone not impressing me at all.

"It's your job." I stated, pretending to be busy with the cloths on the light brown wooden island in the middle of the kitchen.

Harper was hired as a server and me as a cleaner. While we were both maids, Harper wore a professional looking black pencil skirt that lengthened up to her knees and a white buttoned up shirt while I only wore a plain black T—shirt and leggings with a white laced apron around my waist. Mrs Thompson had a strict rule for appropriate attire and it was only one of the many rules she had.

"I would but I really need to pee." She argued, scrunching up her face as she started dancing around in her spot near the kitchen door. "Please Amelia." She moaned.

"Girls!" Abigail barked. "Do not keep Miss Evelyn waiting."

"Fine but you owe me." I warned Harper as I grabbed the jug of ice cold sparkling water and put it down on one of the silver trays on the island.

"You're the best." Harper grinned before disappearing out into the foyer.

Reluctantly, I grabbed the tray and followed suit.

The foyer had a huge glass chandelier hanging in the middle of the room and a glass table filled with books and mail right under it. The glass staircase stood at one end of the foyer and on the other side, were huge brown double doors that led straight into the dining area. The foyer had a huge glass chandelier hanging in the middle of the room and a glass table filled with books and mail right under it. The glass staircase stood at one end of the foyer and on the other side, were huge brown double doors that led straight into the dining area.

I took a long breath to calm my nerves before heading into the double doors. I was in no mood to even look at Miss Evelyn, the second daughter of Mr Thompson. She was the biggest and most whiniest brat of them all and she always had something to say.

As always, Mr Thompson sat on the edge of the huge brown dining table and Mrs Thompson took the seat right opposite. On one side of Mr Thompson, Miss Avery sat and next to her sat Miss Ella — the third daughter. Opposite Miss Avery, the witch in question sat with a deep frown, staring at who I just realised was me. I forced my feet to move past Mrs Thompson, towards Miss Evelyn who tapped her fork on her plate impatiently.