Hopping into my car, it took all my willpower not to glance back at the front door to see if Patrick was still standing there.
But I did, and he wasn’t. I could have cried, but I didn’t. Or maybe I did cry, but I don’t remember. I pulled out of the drive-way, and started to head home, but I really didn’t want to go there and see my mom, who was most likely pissed off. So, I drove around for a bit - thinking about Patrick, and Kurt, who I was totally excited to go on a date with.
That should be an interesting experience.
But most of all, I thought about the phone call, and how if only I had my cell phone on vibrate, Patrick wouldn’t have taken my phone from me, and heard what my stalker said. Hopefully Patrick would listen to what I said and just leave me alone.
What the question is:
Do I really want him to?
After driving around for about 20 minutes, I glanced in my side view mirror and I of course, saw him.
Yep, there he is in his red truck. I groaned.
Gimme a break! SERIOUSLY! Go stalk some other teenage girl! I thought. Or better yet, stalk one of the ones that you’ve already raped!
Feeling annoyed, and completely pissed off, I pulled over abruptly and noticed that he did the same.
He wasn’t far away either.
I jumped out of the car, struggling to undo the seatbelt for a moment. As I got out, I almost tripped and fell flat on my face. Imagine how my stalker would feel then, knowing that the girl he’s stalking is a clumsy oaf.
Maybe, just maybe, he’d be so turned off, that he would stop stalking me completely!
Yeah, right, Ashley. And the cow jumped over the moon. I thought, sarcastically, with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.
He wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. And he even has a partner - that man who keeps phoning me!
I’m double teamed.
I wouldn’t stand a chance against two massive men half my size.
I charged toward the man in the red truck, in a fit of rage, flailing my arms around like a psychopath.
At that moment, he must have been thinking, “What have I gotten myself into?”
“Hey, you!” I exclaimed.
He looked at me, and I swear his eyes were burrowing into my soul. “You want something to look at! I’ll give you something to look at!” I thrust my fist into the air, and pointed my middle finger to the heaven’s, flipping him the bird.
Yeah…how do you like that, you lunatic!
…Maybe I’m the lunatic.
He didn’t do anything, but drove away, watching me as he did so.
Some cop. I thought. He doesn’t even arrest someone for giving him the finger.
For all he knows, I could be stinkin drunk.
Am I drunk? I asked myself. I didn’t have anything to drink at Patrick’s so unless I had an invisible drink, I think I’m good.
After he was gone, I got back in my car, sighing. Driving home, I wondered what my mom would say. She would be angry with me, I knew that. But how angry?
I guess I’ll find out…
I pulled into my drive-way, and turned off the ignition, balling my keys in my fist, which were clad with a Winnie The Pooh keychain.
I slammed my car door, still feeling slightly deranged, and stomped up the front walk. I swung the door open, creating a clanging sound as it collided with the wall.
“Ashley?” I heard my mom call from around the corner.
I didn’t say anything, and started to make my way to my room, which I had to pass the kitchen to reach, and as I did so, my mom looked at me and shouted, “Ashley Channing! Get your butt in here!”
“Ugh,” I turned around and poked my head into the kitchen. “Yeah,” I said, acknowledging that I was listening.
“What happened to your little friend? I thought you said you’d be home at 6,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well, that didn’t work out now, did it? Seeing as I’m standing here talking to you, and not him.”
“So you lied.”
I paused before I answered her question. I had to be sure I knew what she was asking about. Within the last 42 hours, there was an unmentionable amount of things she could have been referring to.