life from a jar •

three

It was the summer of 2011 when I met Luke Hemmings. Dad had just moved me to a different school and a different house, an hour away from our previous home, and he hadn't stopped ushering me to go out and make some new friends. That's how I ended up at an all boys' summer program called Camp Eagle Eye. They obviously wouldn't let me join, and I wasn't upset about it once I found out that it wasn't the pottery class I'd intended on taking two blocks over.

Each and every pimple-faced boy thought it was a hoot that a girl had mistakenly shown up to a boys camp, but Luke was different. He came up to me, tapped on my shoulder, and all he had to say was 'Let's get outta here' to have me shrugging and following him away from the accumulated crowd of boys. We hadn't even exchanged names when he asked what had brought me there of all places, and long story short he said he would rather go and do pottery with a stranger than go fishing with a group of people he didn't even like, so that's what we did.

Ever since then we've been inseparable. I know now what I didn't know then, that he would become the center of my whole boring life. With that information wouldn't change with the fact that Luke Hemmings was a strange being around these parts, because he was truly a creature of fascination among townspeople. It was as if he was an exhibit to be seen, but not to be tinkered with. Everyone who knew him around town thought he was an odd fellow, but what everyone secretly thought was even more odd was how he was fascinated by me. I didn't know why either.

It was one of the strangest high school situations someone could be in. He was just on the brink of popularity. The girls swooned over him, so that was not a problem for the boy whatsoever. The guys around were a completely different story. They didn't mess around with Luke Hemmings. I knew it was because of the female attention he received, so in a way they admired him, and even more than that, they envied him.

He wasn't one of the "normal" stereotypical guys around, he didn't play sports or care about the popularity aspect of high school. He cared about a lot and nothing. Maybe that's what the two of us had in common that no one could ever put their finger on. In our minds it didn't matter what they had to say about us. Our friendship was just like flipping on a light switch, it came easy and made sense.

Although when I step out of my front door this morning and the tall blonde is no where to be seen, I start to question that friendship.

As panic sinks in immediately, my body turns swiftly to unzip the front pocket of my backpack. This new-found panic mode makes my anxiety level rise and it takes me three times as long to find my phone, but when I finally grasp the object I pull it out and press the first number on speed-dial as quickly as possible.

"Come on Luke, pick up. Pick up." Whispering to myself I pace the length of the front porch.

My eyebrows furrowed as I started to hear an all too familiar ringtone. Was he here? Was I hearing things? I look around, my eyebrows still creased and the phone still planted in my hand as I walk to the edge of the porch and look over the rail. There was nothing but the dying green hedge of bushes and suddenly the ringing stops when my phone simultaneously goes to voicemail.

"Boo!" Two hands gripped my shoulders and I squealed, turning around immediately and throwing my hands up.

"Luke I freaking hate you!" I screamed as realization hit me, smacking him repeatedly on his chest. The blonde boy in front of me laughing hysterically and peeling off a skeleton mask I remembered from last years' Halloween costume.

He ran in the opposite direction down the concrete walkway to the sidewalk, still cackling at my expense.

"Whatever, Becker. I got you so good! You should've seen your face!"