Page 8 of My Fake Date With My Childhood Friend
“Hey, hon,” Mom said. “I need you to do me a favour.”
I sat down on the counter across from her. “Shoot.”
“Could you go out in the backyard and rake up some of those fallen leaves?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Ugh, what is it with you and leaves lately? Can't you just hire someone to do it?”
Ever since my older brothers moved away for college, I was responsible for pretty much all the chores around the house and I wasn't a fan of it.
My mom gave me a look. “I'm not paying someone to do a simple task like this. Now go outside and do it before it gets dark. And wear a jacket; it's cold.”
I sighed deeply but got up again and headed for the coat closet. “Fine.”
“By the way, how was school today?” She asked as I did up my zipper.
Oh, it was just great. Everyone's still happily gossiping about your daughter, the loser who lost her best friend and boyfriend in one fell swoop.
I put on a fake smile. “School was great. Couldn’t be better, actually.”
She smiled widely. “I'm glad. Now, if you need me, I'll be watching the Real Housewives of New York. This season is so spicy,” she replied. She then proceeded to walk away to the living room.
“Have fun,” I said half-heartedly. I pulled on my gloves and headed outside.
The yard was covered in fallen leaves; there was no way I could get it all done before dark like my mom wanted. I started to get a little irritated. This was not how I envisioned spending my evening at all. But I guess it gave me some good time to think about my problems as if I didn't do that enough.
If only there was a dating app for fake dates. It wasn't like I could go up to just anyone and ask them to do this favour for me. I mean, who would agree?
I was getting angry, both at Joseph for asking me for his ticket back and at myself for telling him I had a date. What the heck was I thinking? The angrier I got, the harder I raked. I ignored the pain in my hands, and back as I focused all my attention on the stupid chore. Why did Falcon High have to have a Christmas Formal, anyway? What was the point of these stupid dances? They were only fun if you had a boyfriend to go with.
A football came flying over the fence out of nowhere, thawing me out of my thoughts. It flew so fast that I barely even noticed it before it smacked me straight in the head.
“Ow!” I yelled. I put a hand to my now throbbing head, hoping to diminish the pain, although I was pretty sure I was only making it worse. When did balls get so heavy?
A few seconds later, Alexander came sprinting through the gate between the neighbour’s house and mine, looking panicked. He must have been playing football with the boy who lived next door.
“Penny! Are you okay?” He asked. He looked between me and the ball that was now on the ground. “Oh, gosh, tell me it didn't hit you in the head.”
“Well, I would, but I hate lying to you,” I joked. I took a step forward and stumbled a little. Alexander immediately wrapped an arm around me.
“Easy there,” he said.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m really fine, I swear.”
“You don’t need to apologize. In fact, I need to apologize. It was my fault the ball hit you. Clearly, I have terrible aim.”
I stared at him. “You’re the star football player, Alexander.”
“So?”
“So, how can the star football player have terrible aim?”
He blushed. “To be honest, I was a little distracted.”
“Distracted?” I teased. “By what?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly.
“But—”
