The Only Exception Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“You look so beautiful!” my mother announced. She hadn’t even been in the house for a minute and she was already getting on my nerves. Dad made me greet her and Adrien was in the kitchen with him, making dinner. I had to see her alone.

I rolled my eyes and reluctantly hugged. She didn’t notice a thing, thankfully. Then she saw my hair.

“What happened? You hair was a pretty blond!”

I heard Adrien snicker and sent a glare towards the kitchen. Well, he cheered up quickly. Mom continued.

“It was so long, too. Why’d you cut it? Your hair was your pride and joy!”

“Mom,” I interrupted. “Things changed.”

She shut up quickly, finally noticing my less than happy mood. She examined my face, looked around, looked at my clothes--scratch that, she glared--and finally let out a huff of disappointment.

“I honestly thought living with your father would do you some good,” she said. My eyebrows turned downward as she let go of me and walked into the kitchen. Since the kitchen had two doorways, Adrien came out a different way and took me to my room.

“She seems...” he trailed off.

“Annoying? Obsessed with how someone is supposed to look?” I rolled my eyes and picked up my iPod, scrolling down to a song I liked. “I know. It’s been like that for a while.”

Adrien leaned forward.

“Door opened?” Dad yelled from downstairs.

“Yeah!” Adrien and I both yelled. Then I cringed. Mom hadn’t seen Adrien yet. And I knew she was bound to have an opinion. I decided to focus on something else. But I couldn’t find anything.

“Did you finish Fall of the Empire?” he asked, slouching onto my beanbag chair. He grabbed a Pepsi from the fridge and popped it open.

“Nope,” I answered, still scrolling. “It’s friggin’ boring.”

Adrien shrugged. “I think it’s a good book. I’m going to use if for a psychology reference.” He sat up, his face totally serious. “Is infidelity an example of nature vs nurture? Does the environment influence infidelity or does the family?” He grinned suddenly and took a couple of deep swigs from the soda. “The world wants to know.”

“Yeah. Sure,” I said. “Hand me a soda.” He gave me his Pepsi and took another one out. Then I noticed a shadow in the doorway. Mom. Great.

Adrien looked in the direction I was looking and froze slightly before giving a small wave. Mom’s face looked as if it was etched from stone. I rolled my eyes and looked back at Adrien.

“Are you staying for dinner?”

He shrugged, his eyes still on my mother. “I was.”

“Ashley,” my mother said. I flinched. I hated my name. And she knew it. “Can we talk downstairs?”

When we got downstairs, Dad was in his normal chair, reading some thick book from his office. He ignored Mom but waved at me before sensing the tension in the air and leaving. The sad thing was, I needed his support and needed him to back up that he knew Adrien too well. He needed to tell Mom that Adrien would never think of me as other than a best friend/sister.

“Who is he? And why is his hair that horrible blue color?!” she burst out, fuming. Did I mention that he changed his hair color? It was lime green, now. “He looks preposterous!”

I rolled my eyes. “Mom, get over it. This is perfectly normal for Adrien.”

“But not acceptable for a lady of your standing,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

“Mom.” I sat in Dad’s abandoned chair. “Adrien is my best friend.”

“He’s nearly a grown man!”

“He’s 17,” I pointed out. “And he’s the closest one to me, next to Dad. You have nothing to worry about.”

“He could take advantage of you!” she exclaimed. “Boys are like that!”

“No, I’m not,” he said. We both turned and found him leaning haphazardly on the railing to the stairs. He looked pissed, and it was hard to make him angry. “You put me into a stereotype full of idiots.” He glared at her. “That makes you sound rather ignorant. And you don’t know me.”

There was a long whistle from the kitchen. Dad.

I half-expected steam to blow from Mom’s ears and nose. She was humiliated and angered by a teenager. I thought I could do that. Without a word, she stormed into the kitchen. Our eyes trailed after her.

“Are you okay?” I asked. He sat down on the bottom stair and sighed.

“No.” Mom was screaming at Dad about how much of a bad influence he was being and how this was going to screw up my brain. “I’m stressed.” He pulled at a lock of hair and leaned forward. “Do you see grey anywhere?”

I playfully slapped him. Leave it to him to bring a little humor. “Nope. But you may be getting some soon.”

He gave me a bright grin and the door slammed. Mom was apparently leaving, thank goodness.