"Hello, Mother? Yes, I know... Yes, I am... No! Oh, God no! Noooooo, nonono. I was, uh... hospital! Yes, I'm in hospital!" Sonny patted himself on the back for this ingenious excuse. There were one or two teensy flaws in telling his mother this, but it was better than what she had suggested. Dear Christ, was it better... Sonny shuddered, then returned his attention to the bare-faced lies he was telling his one parent.
"It was, uh... a truck! Yes, I was hit by a truck, and they're keeping me in hospital overnight due to my truck injuries! No, no, don't worry; it's nothing serious! Just, uh..." At last, Sonny had an opportunity to be slightly truthful, and he grabbed it with both hands. "Two twisted ankles, a few loose teeth, lacerations along my back and possible mild concussion," he said, ticking off the injuries as he said them in his head. Had he been thinking straight, his mother's reaction to this news may have been fairly easy to predict, but as it was he was rather shocked by the sudden high-pitched noise blaring from the phone and was forced to hold it away from his ear to prevent any damage to his hearing.
"No, calm down, mother, it's alright! No, don't- no! No, you can't visit me! I, uh... I don't know which hospital I'm at!" Ha! "No, no, I can't ask a nurse, because..." Sonny racked his damaged brains for a reason why. "Uh... because they hate me." A masterstroke. "If I try to talk to them, they call me names. And... they hit me." Suddenly, a new idea popped into Sonny's head; not a moment too soon, as the shrieking coming from the receiver in his hand was beginning to make his already-present headache even worse. The genius of this new idea caused Sonny to grin with glee and self-satisfaction, and he declared quite cheerfully into the phone, "Oh, no, here they come now! Oh, what are you doing? No, I was just calling my mother- aah, no, please don't hit me again! Oh no; Mother, they've got the phone! No, please don't-"
Sonny hung up, then barely managed to prevent himself from leaping into the air in ecstasy. The first day in his sure-to-be-long career of lying to his parent - a pastime every teenager should engage in, he noted - and it had gone spectacularly well! He didn't feel good about worrying his mother, no, but the satisfaction of a tale well strung, combined with the significant effects of the earlier head trauma, made feeling bad about it rather difficult.
Finding walking easier with every step he took, Sonny strode quite confidently back into the living-room, still grinning. Then remembering that he had to maintain his pleasant manner in front of these people so they didn't think he was unusual - well, obviously they knew he was unusual by now; in fact, it had probably been fairly simple to deduce the second they'd laid eyes on him, but he was unusual in his own Sonny-ish way, not some grinning psychopath way - and wiped the smirk off his face, before sitting back down on the couch he had lain unconscious on half an hour earlier.
"I suppose I'll be sleeping on the couch, then?" Sonny asked Alex, taking care not to allow any inflictions that may imply that this was anything other than fine enter his voice. The man had carried him all this distance, dressed his wounds and provided him with a place to stay for the night; Sonny couldn't rob him of his things any further.