Foreign Exchange // Punk Luke Hemmings

News

I hate school with a passion. It's like hell, only that's where your friends are. Is it some sort of precursor to the fact that most of us will end up down with the Devil? Or is it just older generations torturing us for the hell of it? Either way, it's a sick method of getting us out of our houses for nine hours.

What really pissed me off was the fact that without school, I wouldn't have any friends at all. Well, except for the Internet of course. But that was different. All of my best friends are from my school, meaning that to actually talk to them, I have to go to school.

Then you add in the fun part about me being a twin and things just can't get any peachier. I'm not an identical twin, either. Oh no. Danny and I are fraternal twins, and even though we are exactly alike, we hate each other. Everyone thinks that just because we have to same interests, we must be best friends, right?

Nope, quite the opposite actually. I'm more "punk rock" than Danny is. He's more "emo" than I am. I listen to more indie and punk music, while he listens to scremo. I wear mainly black with other colours mixed, while he wears almost only black.

We are different, yet pretty similar. But that doesn't mean that we get along. Especially not with three younger brothers running around the house. I'm the only sister, and since I was born eight minutes before Danny, that also means I'm technically the oldest.

That comes in handy when I want someone to do something. It comes in handy when I want someone to stop doing something. It comes in handy when I ask for something from mom and dad.

But the one time that my age screws me over is when Danny decided to have a foreign exchange student come stay at our house.

••••••••••

"But mom, I don't want to have to live with another guy!" I yelled in frustration.

"Your brother wants to do this, and we have enough space and money, so you're going to deal with it or find somewhere else to stay!" Her face was bright with anger as she yelled right back.

"Maybe I will!" I screamed as I stormed up to my room, pulling out my phone as I went.

"Don't you walk away from me young lad-" Music drowned out the rest of her words. I slammed my door and threw myself onto the giant beanbag chair in the corner, burying my face in the plush material.

I've seen pictures of this boy coming to live here. He's gorgeous, with golden hair, a jawline that could grate cheese, and smoldering, frosty blue eyes. He looked like a typical Aussie, lean and beautiful.

But this boy wasn't all sunshine and surfing. Tattoos laced his arms, his neck, his sides. He had piercings, giving him a rugged look. This boy was bad news, he was a heart breaker. A bad boy.

And his name is Luke Hemmings.