life from a jar •

two

No one would ever be convincing enough to proclaim that autumn wasn't the superior season out of all four. I pitied places in the world that were deprived of it, and either were cursed with hot or cold weather with nothing in between. Autumn was just right; a nip in the air, the slight breeze, the satisfying crunch of dead leaves underneath your feet. To me it was everything that made me feel invigorated. It was as if the crisp, cleanness of the air was also cleansing my mind.

A burst of cool mid-October air greeted me as I stepped foot outside of the front door, making sure to lock it behind me. When I turn around Luke is there, waiting for me at the end of the concrete walkway, arms crossed and leaning against the red mailbox like he always did.

"Becker," He greeted as I walked towards him.

His mouth opens wide, breaking out into a smile and showing off his pearly whites. That was one thing to love about Luke, when he's genuinely happy you can tell in an instant.

"Hemmings," I say in reply, smirking up at him.

The two of us started walking to school together in ninth grade. The buses were too crowded and it got to the point where students had to stand because of the lack of seats available. It took awhile to convince our parents to let us, but with it being only a twenty-minute walk- without walking through the bad part of town- they let it slide. It was even more of an ease for Liz to let go of her motherly hold when she waited for her son to be dropped off one sunny afternoon, and grew more concerned when she noticed the speeding and jerking of the school bus, and he had forgotten to mention that everyone called their bus driver Crazy Irene for a reason.

His hands were sunk deeply into the pockets of his khaki's as we walked. Luke hated wearing them more than anything, especially paired with the button-up collared shirt that was designated as the boys' dress code. It was a better option than the navy-checkered skirts the girls had to wear everyday. Although I did enjoy having free reign over which tights I could wear in the colder months, they were a dull yellow color today.

"Hey, just a quick question, why did you hang up on me last night?" He asked suddenly, furrowing his brows.

"I didn't" I lied. "The phone cut off."

His eyes slit as he cocked his head to the side, showcasing his disbelief in my reasoning, "I don't have any proof, but I'm absolutely positive you said, 'gotta go Luke, see you tomorrow'."

Staring from my feet back up to him I see his eyebrows raising toward me. I shrugged as we turned into the school yard. A made up excuse exited my lips that even though it sounded like I said goodbye that my phone had still cut off somehow. It didn't make sense, but he still brushed it off and carried on talking about other things I failed listening to as he opened the front door of the main building for me.

We usually split ways then, but instead he followed me to my locker. Opening the faulty metal I began picking out everything I needed for my first class of the morning, placing my index finger on my chin as to choose which color of pen I wanted very carefully.

"So when I went to get the bread, guess who I saw. You'll never guess." Luke said excitedly, "Guess."

I shut my locker after picking up the blue one, "Who did you see?"

"Mrs. Springer," He exclaimed.

I sigh exhaustedly, gripping my notebooks against my chest. "Dear god, Luke. I'm not listening to you talk about how hot Stacy's mom is again."

Even though she was quite an attractive older lady, the blonde boy I called my best friend had an odd fascination with her that started in year eight when she brought cookies to our schools' annual bake sale wearing what was a sad excuse for a t-shirt. I think people were starting to hear her boobs practically screaming for air.