I looked around, and commented, "Nice house."
He smirked. "You should know. You've already seen it. The hallway, anyways."
I smiled, joking, "I ... have?"
He chuckled, "That's why you're amnesia girl." He put his hands on his hips, awkwardly. "You hungry?"
"Yeah, but I just have to phone my mom."
"Okay. Just follow me."
He headed towards the kitchen and I trailed behind him. When we entered the kitchen, Patrick immediately went for the fridge. I flipped open my phone and walked over to the corner. Pressing "three" for my mom on speed-dial, I waited while it rang. Patrick mouthed to me, lifting up a bag of bread, "Sandwich?"
I nodded. My mom answered the phone. "Hello?"
"Ashley, where are you?! I wanted you to be home right after you picked up the car so I could go to the chiropractor!"
"I know, sorry. I'm at a friends house."
"I thought Rachel had soccer practice after school?"
"Well, yeah, she does, but I'm not at her house."
I glanced after at Patrick, who was casually buttering bread, while trying to pretend like he wasn't listening, even though it was obvious he was. My mom paused on the other end. "Are you at ... a BOYS house?" Of course she would be surprised, seeing as I've never had a "friend" who was a boy. She sounded angry. What am I supposed to say? I wondered.
I was momentarily startled by the question, and I coughed, choking on my own saliva. “W-h-hat?” I stuttered, trying to regain my composure.
“Ashley, I asked you if you were at a boys house.” I paused.
Sighing, I replied, “No mom, I’m not at a boy’s house.” As I said this, Patrick looked at me, and got a strange look on his face.
“Are you sure?”
I rolled my eyes. “No mom, I’m not sure. In fact, I think I may be at an aliens house. Yeah, this alien, its silver, with neon pink hair,” I replied, sarcastically, on the edge of incoherency.
“Ashley Penelope, do NOT take that tone with me! I have no patience for your sarcasm right now!”
“Yeah, okay, whatever. I’ll be home at 6:00,”
“No, I told you, I need the --” I hung up, cutting her off.
I put my phone in my pocket, and turned to Patrick, and smiled meekly. I walked over to where he stood at the counter, and leaned up against it. “So, yeah, I can stay till 6:00. Is that okay?”
Raising his brow, he replied, “You tell me,” referring to the fact that my mom didn’t ACTUALLY tell me I could stay till 6:00.
I frowned. “I don’t think that’s any of your business. Now can I stay till 6, or what?” I questioned.
I walked over and sat down at the table. Turning away from me, and continuing what he was doing with the sandwich’s, he asked me, “What do you want on yours?”
“I’m not sure…” I trailed off. I glanced around the kitchen and spotted a basket of fruit. I stood up, walking over to it. “Can I just have an apple?”