(F)Luke

1 || Same School, Old Friends.

Here I was. Crestwood High.

Stepping out of my mom's car for one of the last times. I shook, sighing to calm myself. I'm nervous; it's the second semester, the last, 4th quarter. Finals are next week, and I can't remember anything.

I wore what I'd typically wear; an Of Mice & Men tank top, a plaid over shirt, black skinny jeans and converses.

My hair was the best I could get, and the rubber wristbands I was wearing were getting worn out. I wanted to make an impression, but not an impression that would get rumors spread on the first day of my appearance.

My name is Seth. I'm sixteen years old and this is my, at least, 172nd day. here. I have brown hair that sweeps across my forehead, in which is curly in the back. My eyes the shade of electric blue, and my face is covered in translucent freckles. My voice is like any other male. Not prepubescent squeaker, but not macho manly deep either. I'm tall, but not that tall. 5'8 at the very least. Anyway, my story goes kinda like this:
Ever since my dad was thrown in jail for narcotics use, (again), my mom kinda...forgot about me. She only really acknowledges me when she needs help with something. Let it be carrying in groceries from a convenience store or some piece of furniture she "found" at a thrift store. I don't mind it much, y'know, being left to my own devices and all. But what really irritates me is when she has another man walking in and out of her bedroom every other weekend. Or when she forgets my birthday or locks me out of the house when I get home from school or a friend's house at a certain time. I fend for myself. She never cooks anymore, only when she's trying to impress a really rich guy she found somehow. My mom used to be a nurse at the local hospital, and she still is, but she spends most of her money partying, buying drugs, cigarettes, and other 'necessities' for the weekend. My dad sends in money; he has to. My mom usually gives those checks to me, usually with the sentence 'go crazy' with a cigarette in her mouth and the scent of spilled liquor on her clothes. Her hair is usually in a messy bun and she's usually wearing her night robe with slippers and tattered pajama pants. That's when she's at home. When there's company, she usually dresses formally, nicely. I guess it's to hide the fact we're trailer trash living in a nice house in a suburban neighborhood. The only people here, besides snobby rich kids and stuck up soccer moms, are my best friends. Shawn lives across the street from me, and Luke lives around the block. Every Saturday he comes to my house, and then every Monday we walk to school together. This has been our routine since we were in elementary. Our moms are pretty good friends, working together and all. Even though my mom is jealous of his mom for some weird reason. Probably because his mom can keep a man.

My name is Luke. I have blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and a freckle here and there. I'm around 5'6, maybe an inch shorter. It's the end of a new school year; last summer I was in the 9th grade. My best friend, Seth, just recently moved here from California where his dad was a celebrity of some sort. My dad walked out over an argument with my mom. Just flat out walked out, not a word. I was ten years old at this time, now I'm 16. I visit him sometimes since he works as a police officer he lives in a decent apartment about an hour away uptown. The police station is just a few minutes away from the neighborhood for which I live. I've never really made any friends in this neighborhood, besides Seth. He's the only one who doesn't make fun of me when I start wheezing during an asthma attack or my chronic anxiety of life...sometimes. He's like my security blanket; always has been. He's always around, and my mom considers him a son. Literally, he can stay over at my house, visit anytime, eat dinner with us or just walk to the fridge and eat out food and no one would give it a second thought. It's weird, really. I've known him for ten years and he's already a part of our dysfunctional family. I'm considered a nerd at school for some reason or another. I guess it's because I have asthma, so I carry my inhaler on a string around my neck like a necklace. I also have epilepsy, so there's a chance of a seizure or two every other month. This doesn't really affect my learning capabilities, other than the fact that the school keeps trying to put me in Special ED. And every time that's brought up, my mom has a cow. I live with my mom and my sister, and my stepdad. My mom and stepdad just recently got engaged and my sister was never really fond of him. Neither am I. He looks like he could punch anyone and get away with it. He's big, tall, and muscular. He can tower over you in a heartbeat. He's a dangerous man, hidden inside a charming personality, that's for sure.

Anyway, this school is...alright. I've only been here for, like, 172 days and still, no one really seems to notice my presence. That'll change next year....I hope.

I'm sitting here in English class, bored out of my mind, even though English is my favorite subject, sometimes I think too much in this class though, to the point where I don't even pay attention. It's really hard to, considering all the things on my mind, and all the ideas I have for writing and essays and so much more.

Mr. Wesley.

Mr. Wesley.

"Mister. Wesley."

"Wesley!"

Mr. Morrison, the English teacher called out as he slapped his ruler onto Luke's desk, causing him to jump and wince back.

"Y-yes sir?" He quietly stuttered, readjusting himself back into reality.

"Have you gotten enough sleep recently? You seem to be dozing off."

"No sir," Luke gave a nervous smile. "I was just writing down my thoughts as I always do. I wasn't sleeping." Luke couldn't lie, no matter how many times he was laughed at and picked on for being a 'goody-goody.'

"The only things you should be writing are the things I put on the board, Mister Wesley. Do I make myself clear?" Mr. Morrison shot Luke a look; he was never fond of Luke. Probably because he was Luke's former football coach back in 7th grade when Luke's epilepsy was really bad. To the point where Luke had seizures out of nowhere; from stress, or even an asthma attack. Mr. Morrison thought Luke was 'special', thus started the trend of trying to throw him into Special ED. Come to think of it, that just might be the argument his parents had when his dad walked out. Debating whether Luke was mentally ill or not, debating whether he needed special treatment at his school. The last thing his mom said was, "there is nothing wrong with him, do you understand me?!" followed by some profanity and the loud slamming of a door. That day, Luke watched his father squeal away in the tires of his fancy sports car. Luke cried for 3 weeks straight. He stopped when he finally got tired of waiting by the window, and when his mom complained that his grades were dropping and his homework wasn't getting done. She never spoke about his father; only until Luke is forced to stay the week with him because of stupid custody rules.

Luke nodded his head with a quiet "yes sir."

The class giggled and whispered, mocking the blonde, blue-eyed train wreck of a social outcast.

"Put the notebook away, take out the one you're supposed to be using for class and pay attention."

Luke gave another nod and did as told. He was too scared to ask why because all they were doing was stuff Luke already knew about. Theme, Main Idea, Citing, all the basic middle school re-run stuff. It was boring, pointless review.

Shortly after, the bell rang. It was time for the second block, a class Luke hated; math.

He sluggishly walked out, and to his locker which was just down the hall. As he entered the combination, something tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, seeing a familiar face.

"Seth?" Luke's eyes widened and his smile shone brightly. He hasn't seen Seth since spring break. There was a whole fiasco about his mom and such, which kept him out of school for a while. Something about bullying, I think. They changed his schedule to 'accommodate', or to keep his mom from constantly coming up to the school to complain about Seth's failing, miserable grades.

"Hey!" Seth smiled in return, tossing his backpack over his shoulder. "Which class you headed to?" He asked, taking out his schedule for the year.

"Math, upstairs," Luke replied with a groan, rolling his eyes in disgust.

"Ew." Seth winced back, giving an odd face.

Luke silently agreed and made his way to the stairwell, Seth closely behind. "I have 2nd with you, I think. I guess we'll find out when we get there." The brunette spoke with confidence, for some reason. Luke glanced over and chuckled a little. Seth gazed over, tilting his head in confusion. "What?" He asked.

"Nothing." Luke inquired, taking his seat in the very back of the class. The desks were in pairs of two, which gave the perfect opportunity for Seth to sit beside him; if these became their assigned seats, they'd be sitting next to each other for the entire year. They practically have every class together except for their first classes, anyway. They both ride the same bus and walk home together to Luke's house, which Seth stays the night; once Saturday comes around, they both head over to Seth's house and go to school together Monday morning. They couldn't be separated, ever.