Infinite Clarity

three

[ three : furious, fiery, and fuming ]

"Luke, for Christ's sake, Luke! Open the door!" I violently jiggled the doorknob. After yesterday's incident - yes, the one where I walked in in him changing - he was smart enough to lock his door. If I'm right, there should be a key on the top of the doorframe.

I looked up. Even standing on my tip toes, I was too short to reach it. Maybe if I just jumped a little, I thought. I jumped as high as I could, skimmed the key, and knocked it down. It made a ching sound as it hit the hardwood floor. After unlocking the door, I opened it.

You can't be serious. He was still in bed. Asleep. No way.

I walked over to his bed, grabbed the pillow that he had covering his head (it was probably there in an attempt to block out my banging), and smacked him with it. Almost immediately, he woke up.

"What are you doing!?" he yelled at me, just as I was about to hit him again.

I tossed the pillow onto his bed. "Waking you up! We're going to be late." I looked at his clock. "You have twenty minutes to get ready. If you're not outside in twenty minutes, I'm leaving you. Hurry."

"Okay! Chill out, would you? It's not like you're dying."

I scowled at him. Why did I have to take him to school? He could've taken the bus. "Hurry the hell up, Luke. You better not make me late."

"Fine, get out. I mean unless you want to see -"

I didn't need any further instructions. I left his room. This day has already gotten off to a bad start.

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, Luke walked, or more like sauntered, out through the front door with his hands thrown into the pockets of his jacket and a simple backpack tossed over his left shoulder. "It's about time," I muttered to myself.

My eyes raked over his body as he walked towards my Jaguar convertible (it was a Christmas gift from my dad last year, why not use it?).

He was wearing a tight grey V-neck shirt that made him look even muscly-er, a casual leather jacket, a pair of dark-wash jeans that were slung low on his hips, and a pair of boots. It looked like he didn't even try to do anything with his dark hair, but I suppose the messier look suited him in a way. His eyes locked with mine, and he glowered at me.

"Get in." I started the engine and it roared to life as he climbed into the passenger side.

After eyeing my car, he popped his stuff into the back seats where my stuff was. He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door. "Buckle up," I told him, putting the car into reverse.

He ignored me and popped in a pair of black, cheap-looking earphones. The kind you could buy for possibly ten dollars or less at Radio Shack. He didn't even buckle his seatbelt.

If he dies, I swear it's not my fault.

* * *

"Give me your schedule," I instructed, unbuckling my seatbelt after safely parking in the school's parking section for juniors. He pulled out a white, folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me without any dissent. But even though one of his earbuds hung out, I don't think he was paying attention. His eyes were focused ahead on the school.

After scanning it, I said, "Okay, your locker is on the second floor. It should be..." I thought about it, trying to remember the order of the lockers best I could, "about three doors down to the left once you come up the stairs. That's where all of your classes are, on the second floor. Except for lunch. That's on the first floor of the school. But, anyways, your locker is in a group of blue lockers, so that should help you a bit."