Chapter Two
I turned around to come face to face with the most adorable guy I'd ever seen.
"Um ..." What's my name again? "Who are you?"
"I'm Patrick and this is MY house, where you obviously don't live."
I decided to play dumb. What else could I do? Say to him, "I'm just pretending this is my house because there was a creepy police officer following me."? No, that doesn't happen. I said, stupidly, "Wait – this isn't my house?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Noo ..."
I plastered a really confused look on my face. He looked like he didn't know what to do. And then I pretended to wobble like I was about to pass out. He rushed to my side awkwardly, and took my arm, "steadying" me. "Are ... are you okay? Do you have amnesia or something?"
"Am – amnesia?"
"Yeah ... its where you lose your memory?"
"Oh yeah ... some guy ran me over with his bike and I guess I hit my head ..." I lied.
"Are you going to be okay?"
I looked up into his ocean blue eyes. "I t-t-think so."
Patrick was a lot taller than me – he towered over me. I guessed he was maybe around 5'10". He had light brown hair, and blue eyes, they almost looked fake. He somehow had a "little boy", "pinch his cheeks" quality about him – I liked it.
I broke myself from his grip and said, quickly, "I have to go." I reached for the doorknob behind me, still facing him. "It was nice to meet you Patrick."
I opened the door, and stumbled out. I walked down the driveway, and he shouted behind me, "You never told me your name!"
I responded with a simple, "Bye!"
I looked back at him one last time, to see a very perplexed look on his face.
I grinned to myself and walked down the sidewalk. All I cared about was getting home, and out of the cold. I zipped up my "Stitches" hoodie, put on my hood, and pulled my ipod out of my pocket and put on Kelly Clarkson's new song, "My Life Would Suck Without You."
As I walked, I was continuously checking over my shoulder cautiously for any more stalkers.
Thankfully, there were none.
One is enough, wouldn't you say?
I sighed when I finally reached my home. I was so relieved, that I sprinted to the front door.
I stepped into the front foyer and called out, "Mom, I'm home!"
She turned the corner in front of me and said, "Where have you been?"
"Detention," I lied.
"Was that Brooklyn girl giving you crap again?"
"Uh – yeah," I responded, slipping off my shoes.
"You know she's just jealous, right?"
"Yeah, mom." You tell me that everyday!
"Okay, good."
I smiled at her. "I'm going upstairs. When's dinner?"
"About 5:30," she replied.
"Kay!" And then I ran up the stairs to my bedroom.
When I got to my room, I plunked myself down on my bed and sighed for the 100th time today.
Something really awful could have happened to you today, Ashley. I told myself.
To take my mind off it, I pulled out my social studies homework.
I had just opened my student workbook, when I heard, "Ashley baby, you make me feel so alive. I’ve got purpose once again (Yeah Yeah) Ashley baby, you make me feel so alive, I’ve got purpose once again (Yeah Yeah, Yeah Yeah)." – My cell phone was ringing.
I picked it up. The caller ID read, "Unavailable." Hmm ...
"Hello?" I answered, curious. Wrong number, probably.
The voice on the other end of the phone sent Goosebumps up and down my spine.
"I didn't like those jeans you wore today. Don't wear them again." It was deep, scratchy and it sounded disguised. I couldn't tell if it was a guy or a girl.
"Who – who is t-t-t-this?" I stuttered, my hands shaking. "Brooklyn, is that you?"
"DON'T tell anyone about us, or your friends and family will be dead," was the response I got.
I shrieked, pressed the "end" button and threw my cell phone across the room. Us? What’s “us”? I wondered.
I brought my knees to my chin and wrapped my arms around my legs. I rocked back and forth, panicking.
"Why is this happening to me? Why? Why? Why?"
There was a knock on my door - my mom. "Ash, honey, are you okay?"
"Yeah, mom," I croaked. "Just ... bad cramps," I lied again. I have a knack for that.
"Okay, sweetie," Then I heard her go back downstairs.
I thought I would have a heart attack when once again, I heard, "Ashley baby, you make me feel so alive. I’ve got purpose once again (Yeah Yeah)."
I gulped. Should I answer it?
But what if it's that person again?
"If looks could kill you’d be the one, that takes my world and makes me numb. I’m nothing without you, I can’t breath (I can’t breath)."
But what if it's not?
I slowly inched off the bed and crawled across the floor to my phone, where it lay against the wall.
With my hands shaking, I picked it up, pressed "talk," and said, "H-h-h-h-hello?"
"Ashley?"
Oh, thank God. I released a huge puff of air that I hadn’t realized I'd been holding in.
"Oh, hey, Rach."
"Are you okay? You sound strange."
"I'm fine ... I was just ... seeing how long I could hold my breath for ..."
"Oh, ha ha, that sounds like you."
I chuckled. "Yeah ..."
Rachel is my best friend. She's much prettier than me, or maybe I just have low-self esteem. Guys couldn't get enough of her long blonde hair and green eyes. Rachel has a gorgeous figure from playing sports. Because she's athletic, guys really like her too. Although, she's even shorter than me, at 5 feet, it's easy to over look. She has a bubbly personality and she can be funny when she wants to be. The one thing that I admire about her is that she's not afraid to talk back to teachers. Boys also find that attractive in her. It shows that she has confidence.
I've been friends with her for so long, I wonder why she's put up with me for all these years. She's way more popular than me.
"So, what's up?" I asked her, beginning to calm down.
"Not much. I just missed you after school. You headed home so quickly, I didn't get a chance to say bye."
"Oh, yeah, sorry about that."
"Its okay," she paused.
"What?"
"That wasn't the real reason I called."
"Oh really? Care to elaborate?"
"Indeed," I could just picture her grinning on the other end of the phone. "Guess what?"
"Hmm ... what?" I asked, slightly distracted. I couldn’t tell her about the phone call…I mean…I couldn’t risk it. What if he was serious, and would kill her if I told?
"Kurt asked about you." Kurt is the guy I have a crush on. Too bad he doesn't know I exist – Until now.
"He did?"
"Yup. Get this – he asked me what you're doing this weekend."
"Are you serious?"
"Mhm. I guess that makeover I gave you for that party last weekend really did the trick."
"Yeah, I guess," I replied, finding it difficult to be excited. "Does Brooklyn know?" Problem: Brooklyn likes him too, and she hates me. Who knows why? According to my mom, she just "jealous."
"Ash, are you sure you're okay? I thought you'd be totally thrilled about this. And no, she doesn't, at least I don't think she does."
"Good. And I'm sorry ... its just – " I can't stop thinking about a certain someone I met today.
"Is there someone else?"
"Yes, I mean, sort of. I mean, not really ..."
She was smiling, more like smirking, I could tell. "What's his name?"
"Patrick."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I met him today. And Rachel, gosh, is he ever gorgeous."
Rachel laughed. "Really? How'd you meet him?"
Shoot... "Um... he... ran me over with his bike..."
"Oh my God, are you okay?!"
I laughed. "Yeah, not a scratch on me." I should hope not, considering you were in an imaginary bike collision. I thought.
"Good."
Then I heard a faint, "Get off the phone!" coming from Rachel's end. "Well, I guess I gotta go," she told me.
"K, Rach."
"See ya tomorrow." And then my phone beeped, telling me I had a new voicemail message.
"Yup. Ciao."
I hung up, and dialed my own number to listen to my message. I wondered who it could be. No one besides Rachel ever calls me.
I held the phone to my ear, and that same scratchy voice greeted me on the other end. "You should try wearing your hair up. It would look sexy."
"Leave me alone!" I screamed at my phone.
Then I threw it against the wall, knocking the battery from it.