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         I PULL MYSELF AWAY from Luke and with wide eyes I rush over to Lucy, grabbing her hands and silently willing her to tell me whatever it was that was running through her mind. Lucy always had a solution whenever someone presented her with a problem, and I really hoped that this time wouldn't be any different. That this would be my way out.

         "Luke said that you two wrote a story for him too, right? Because he --no offense to my dearest brother-- wanted to be an asshole and steal your thunder at the contest. So if you wrote that, if you have that story, you still have an entry. It's not Casual Affair but it's something, and if you perfect it and submit it before the deadline, isn't that still as good a chance as any?" She says quickly, breathing heavily. "Look, I know the other one took you months and that even so you still didn't think it was as good as you wanted it to be but this is a chance. This could work."

     "This could work." Luke repeats again quietly, looking thoughtful. "When's the deadline?"

       "A week from tomorrow."

       "Shit Cohen, and you didn't tell me that it was that close? What if I wasn't going to give it back in time?" He whines, looking annoyed. I don't bother telling him that it wouldn't have mattered now either way, or that we fought every time I brought it up, because I don't care. Lucy has handed me another option on a silver platter and although it wasn't the option that I originally wanted, I was going to run with it. I had to run with it, and I had to keep going because that was all that I could do. "Lu, can you get my laptop, my guitar, and check up on my truck? You know, see if it's salvageable at all?"

         "Yeah, of course. But one, since when do you have a guitar? And two, I already checked up on your truck. It's a goner." She says, shrugging and giving him a sad smile.

          "Fuck." Luke says quietly, running a hand through his messy, blonde hair. "My baby." He pouts, plopping back down on his bed. "I really loved that ruck."

          "I know you did, but it's gone now so you have to let go of it. You two really need to learn to let things go. You can get another one." She says quickly, seeming frustrated. "We have a lot to do, so focus. Where's your guitar?" Once Lucy get's it's location, she nods, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears and heading towards the door.

            "I'll be back in twenty minutes tops and when I get back I'd like to know where the fuck that guitar came from. I'll bring your typewriter too, Kens." Lucy yells, slamming the door shut behind her and running off in the blink of an eye. 

                                                                                           +++

      When Lucy comes back, we get to work and we don't really stop until we finish. The sun comes up, and the nurses keep coming in trying to get Lucy to go home and me to go into my own room, but, Lucy sweet talks them into letting it slide. 

     In which time, Luke explains to an ever curious Lucy where his guitar came from. He had purchased it when he was eleven years old and taught himself how to play. Along the way, he had become rather fond of singing and occasionally even writing down a lyric or two that would pop into his head.

       Luke played only when the house was empty and never wanted to tell anyone because like with everything else, he was afraid that his dad would find out and ruin it. Well, he had. But Luke only let that happen once. He thought it would never happen being as his father was rarely around anyways, but, leave it to the universe to beat the odds.

      The first time that he found out, he called Luke a handful of colorful words and had thrown the guitar against a wall, rendering it useless. Luke had in turn purchased another one and had been much more careful this time.

The Book Thief 》Hemmings A.UWhere stories live. Discover now