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Chapter 8 *Memories*

~Sophia

After my encounter with Drake, I end up taking a bath too. It's not a bad idea, considering I feel sticky. It's like the conversation we had a while ago cling to my body so I rub it as much as I could. Of course, I locked the door; I don't want to repeat that scene again.

A knock on the door snaps me out of my thoughts. My hand slips the on hold of the blow dryer I'm holding. It falls on my toes, making me jump, more in surprise than in pain.

I didn't know that I have an audience until I hear his manic laugh. I don't have to turn around to see it's Drake. No doubt he saw my clumsiness.

"What do you want?" I snap, turning to glare at him.

He clears his throat to cut off his laughter. "Aunt Veronica asked me to tell you that breakfast is ready."

"Okay," I mutter.

I pretend that he's not here as I wait for him to leave my room.

As I turn my dryer off, he says, "I didn't know you sleep with a bear in your bed." He points at Shea. "She's cute."

"Thanks," I mumble. I thought he will make fun of me.

"What's her name?"

"Shea." I don't know why he cares.

He gets Shea from my bed and I almost yell at him to put it back because I don't like it when people touches my things. The expression on his face stops me.

"Shea," he says thoughtfully.

There's a flicker of something like sadness in his eyes, but when I look again, it's gone. It must be a figment of my imagination.

I can't tell the expression that crosses his face as he studies Shea. For a second, he looks vulnerable.

Suddenly, he says, "I had a stuffed toy too."

Had? I open my mouth to ask where it is now, when he puts Shea back on the bed and says, "Come on, let's not make Auntie wait for us."

"Okay," I mumble, and follow him downstairs.

~Drake

I don't know why I told her about Bobby. Sometimes I can't hold off my tongue. We walk down the stairs in uncomfortable silence, both of us preoccupied with our own thoughts.

When we walk in the dining room, Auntie is nowhere in sight.

Pie sits across from me, but doesn't dare look me in the eyes. Maybe she still can't get over the fact that she walked in the bathroom while I was having my shower.

I shift uncomfortably on my chair when Auntie walks in the dining room and sits beside Pie.

"Good morning!" Aunt Veronica greets Pie.

"Good morning," Pie says shyly.

"How was your sleep?"

"Good," Pie says smoothly.

I notice that Auntie doesn't ask questions about the puffiness of Pie's eyes. Maybe that's expected when your mom left you to live with strangers.

"Where's Andre?" Pie asks curiously.

"He went somewhere," Aunt Veronica answers, "He said it was important."

Andre helps me a lot. He wants me to be alone with Pie so that I can finish what I started.

"This is delicious," Pie compliments Auntie.

The breakfast consists of eggs, muffins, sausages, and bacon. Typical.

Auntie and Pie talks about girl stuffs then. About dresses, shoes, bags, and anything in between. Auntie looks happy. She's really enjoying because finally, she has a girl companion. Meanwhile, Pie doesn't seem interested in fashion. I think she'd rather talk about books. But she still gives her full attention to whatever Auntie is saying. Some girls our age will just pretend that they're listening, but she's different.

When I'm picking my food, I see her in the corner of my eye stealing glances at me and then looking away quickly.

Stupid bathroom scene. How can I be so careless on not locking the door? A sigh escapes from my lips without my permission.

In the days I've known her, I realized something. She doesn't like smiling. Perhaps she's not smiling when I'm around. But now, she looks carefree talking to Auntie.

"Ooh," Auntie suddenly gushes, looking at her wrist watch. "I'm late for work. I hope you don't mind washing the dishes." She looks at us with a small smile on her face.

"It's okay," I assure her.

She says goodbye, and walks out of the room in a hurry. After a minute, I hear the front door slam shut.

Pie looks at me incredulously. "They don't have a maid?"

"They don't," I say. "Why are you so surprised?"

"Because this is a big house and Aunt V," she stops suddenly, maybe realizing what she sayid. "I meant, Aunt Veronica is the only one who cleans it?"

"Aunt V?" I tease her, "A very nice nickname."

She ducks her head in embarrassment. "Shut up," she mutters.

It's kind of amusing how she's always blushing when she's embarrassed.

"I'll wash the dishes, you'll dry," she says after a minute.

"Okay," I agree.

We carry the dirty dishes and make our way to the kitchen. We put the plates near the sink and begin to clean them.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask hesitantly when she gives me a plate to dry.

"Sure," she says. And then when I don't answer, she stares at me. "Why do you look so surprised?"

"I thought you'll say no."

"Pessimist much?" She asks, a small smile is tugging at her lips.

"Not really," I say wearily.

She sighs. "Just because I gave you a permission to ask me a question doesn't mean I'm going to answer it."

I open my mouth to retort but I can't think of anything to say. She smirks, no doubt thinking that she can make me speechless.

This girl is unbelievable. The first one who's immune to my charm.

Suddenly, she laughs. I don't know what's funny. Her laughter is different. It sounds like a tiny bell in a -

"Draky?" she says, interrupting me from my reverie.

I shake my head furiously. I don't like where my thoughts are headed.

Pie clears her throat and says, "What do you want to know?"

"I'm just just wondering . ." I trail off.

"Wondering?" she prompts.

"The reason why you stay here," I finish.

Pie looks away and continues to clean the dishes. I know I shouldn't have asked her, but I'm curious.

I thought she won't speak when she says," A family problem."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, I know that it's a family problem. So I act patient and wait for her to elaborate it.

After all the dirty dishes and glasses are clean, she sits on a clean part of the kitchen counter.

Finally, she says, "My mom and dad are fighting since I was thirteen years old." She stops and plays with the hem of her shirt. "It started when Matt died."

I want to ask who Matt was but I don't want to interrupt her.

"It was just an accident," she continues, "But they blamed each other. My father was driving when they got in a car accident. It wasn't my father's fault. The driver of the other car drove fast and his car crashed with my father's. The driver of the other car died. Matt got an internal brain damage. He died before they arrived in the hospital. My father was in a coma for weeks. We didn't know if he will live. The doctor said that prayer was the only thing that can save him."

She takes a deep breath, clearly controlling her tears to behave. While I, on the other hand, seem frozen in place.

"That was the worst time of my life. I couldn't bear losing my father, like with my brother. I realized then that death is inevitable. There is no such thing as beware, you'll die tomorrow. No one knows when our life will end. We'll just be gone, with or without unfinished business on earth, leaving our loved ones with grief, loss and the shock of never seeing us again.

"I was in shock. I couldn't believe all that happened. My little brother, he was my only sibling. And then he left me alone. Someone recommended the book 90 Minutes in Heaven by Don Piper to me. It was Matt's funeral then. I was not in the mood to read and I almost screamed at my friend for telling me to read that book."

She pauses, and smiles sadly, reminiscing the memory. "And then I didn't know what happened," she continues. "I just read it in one sitting. That book made me realized that my little brother is now in Heaven. It made me see that despite the hardships and sufferings we experienced, there's still hope for us. I didn't lose my faith in God.

"After a few weeks, my father woke up. At first he was hysterical because he lost his only son. He -" Pie chokes off, and then she's crying.

I stand there like an idiot, not knowing what to do. Then I move closer to her and pat her back hesitantly. This is an awkward situation.

What happened to her was indescribable. While his father was in a coma, his son was put in his tomb. Then after what happened, her parents should help each other and strengthen their family, but what they did, and still do, according to Pie, is fight. Even if Driana and I aren't close, I can't imagine my life without her.

This stupid guilt is coming again. Will she cry too when she finds out that I am just messing with her?

"I'm sorry," she says suddenly, wiping her tears from her eyes. "I . . I shouldn't have said anything."

"It's okay," I whisper. "It was my fault, I asked you the question."

She forces a laugh. "And I answered it."

"It's our fault then."

"You know, that's why I never liked hospitals. They make me remember that unfortunate event. I don't like blank white walls, narrow hallways, and the smell of chemicals. I don't like everything about hospitals."

"I used to hate hospitals too," I say inconspicuously. "When I was eight years old, I sprained my ankle by climbing a tree. A naughty boy I was, I fell down." I chuckle, remembering the memory. "Of course, my parents brought me to the hospital where they told me that I couldn't play for a week."

It's just a simple problem, really, but I hope it makes Pie feel better that she's not alone in loathing hospitals. To my surprise, she laughs. It's a funny kind of laugh because she just finishes crying. Still, I'm glad she stopped now, albeit it's in my expense. In the first place, I was the one who started it.

She wipes the fresh tears from her cheeks and hops off the counter. "Thank you for listening," she says.

"No problem," I mumble. I realized too late that I still don't know why she's here. Asking the question again is not an option. Prying into her life isn't good after all. Look what I've done.

Then out of nowhere, an idea pops into my head. It will help her try to forget her pain while I can move on to my plan of making her fall in love with me. I suggest it to Pie but she questions our tutorial lesson. Typical.

After a few pleading, she gives up and agrees. I'm pretty persuasive if I want to. And maybe, she's not completely immune to my charm.

*****

I watched Beastly and it was very different from the book but still definitely worth watching. Who can resist Alex Pettyfer? =)

The song is In Christ Alone by Owl City

Thank you for all the comments you left on the previous chapters. I like reading them again and again :D Especially your guess about the characters and what might happen next.

Also, (as of 2014) I've been getting comments that this chapter reminds the readers of The Fault in Our Stars. It's funny because this chapter was written in early 2011. No way it's connected to TFiOS.

Thank you! *.*