Rather reluctantly I drove the two of them to Lucy's house.
As the car pulled into the gravelled driveway I wondered how parents as uptight as Lucy's would ever let a complete stranger (especially a strange boy) like Lucas stay the night as their house. Hell, even I wasn't allowed to sleep there, and I'd been going round their place way before I got a reputation to make them question my motives.
Mrs Moore opened the front door wearing a floral dressing gown and a disgruntled expression.
"What time do you call this," she barked at me.
I shrugged and glanced down at my watch.
"Three thirty, mam."
"And what was the agreed time for you to bring Lucy back home?"
"At Midnight the latest," I recited the words Mr Moore had practically hammered into my brain earlier this evening.
"You're so lucky her father's asleep," she hissed. "Or you'd be leaving this house in an ambulance."
"Yes mam," I replied, trying not to find the thought of the stubby old man sending me to A&E so amusing.
As it so happens, this wasn't the first time I had brought Lucy home late. Nor the second or third. Which was probably why Mr Moore wasn't sitting downstairs waiting for me with his beloved shotgun. That time had been and gone. Fortunately, as one could tell by my immaculate scar-less skin, I got away just in time before he could put it to good use.
"Wipe that smirk off your face young man," Mrs Moore snapped at me.
I heard Lucy call me from back at the car. I guess I got so caught up in the thought of confronting her parents and explaining where we had been all this time I had forgotten that she couldn't lift Lucas by herself.
"Coming!" I called back, glad to distance myself from a very annoyed Mrs Moore. "Can't he walk by himself?"
She looked at me as if to say just play along. I guess she was putting on a show to weaken the shit storm heading her way.
We carried Lucas out the car and over to Lucy's house using the same manoeuvre we used to tow him out of the alleyway. The only difference now was that he was semi-conscious. This made things tons more awkward. His head rested against my torso and I swear he was enjoying it! I didn't whisper any of my suspicions to Lucy because I knew she would just snap and call me a homophobe.
"What is the meaning of this," Mrs Moore exclaimed, too shocked to block the entrance to the house.
We hurried inside and set him down on the burgundy sofa.
"Lucinda!" Her mum cried after shutting the front door. "What's going on? Who is this boy?"
Lucy, you're not going to weasel your way out of this one, I thought, sniggering. Both mother and daughter swung round and shot me identical looks of disgust, which only caused me to crack up into full fits of laughter.
"Come on," Lucy said, dragging her mum out the room. "We'll talk about it in the kitchen."
There was nothing else to do, but wait until they submerged. After a few minutes of silence I turned my attention on Lucas, strange coloured hair all messed up (someone had a weird taste in hair dye), looking incredibly bruised and battered.
"You okay man?" I asked, feeling like I might as well open up a conversation with him.
"I've had better days," he groaned.
I chuckled dryly.
"Where are you from?"
"Out of town," was all he said.
The sound of muffled voices and footsteps drifted into the room. Sure enough, a few seconds later Lucy re-entered the room. Her eyes were sparkling with the triumph of having won yet another argument against her parents.
"Looks like you can bunk here for tonight Lucas," she beamed.