How Many Heroes

5- Charity

I already regretted inviting Luke over for dinner. The preparations alone were driving me insane. My mom was around the house, sweeping, wiping, and moving everything she could get her hands on in an attempt to make our house look clean. Dad was cooking something. I couldn't tell what it was; all I knew was that something was burning.

Then there was me, doing nothing. The entirety of my wardrobe was spread out on the carpet of my bedroom. I had no idea what I should wear- not something I'd wear to school, but also not something I'd wear at a casual outing, but nothing too fancy. This was hopeless.

A blue-green tank top caught my attention, reminding me of Vaughn's angry eyes. I shuddered. I'd told Maria about my theory that Vaughn tried to kidnap me and she said, "Beth, didn't you say you hit your head really hard that night?"

When I confronted Luke about it, he was silent for a minute, then said, "Lots of people have that same eye color here."

"Yeah, but I remember those ones," I said, desperate for someone to believe me. "Even his voice seems a little familiar now."

"You've went to school with him for two years," Luke pointed out.

"I know, but...I can't shake the feeling that he was one of them. He's certainly violent enough."

Luke laughed. "I'm not saying he doesn't have it in him, but he's just a student... still, maybe you're right. I'll look into it."

"What does that mean?" I asked. "Does it have to do with a mission, like Amy was talking about?"

"Uh..." Luke said, and then refused to answer any more questions.

There was a knock on the door. My heart stopped. As quickly as I could, I picked up a pair of jeans, an old school t-shirt, and a pair of simple sandals and ran downstairs, not bothering to brush my hair.

Luke was standing in my doorway, shaking my father's hand. He tried to shake my mother's too, but instead she wrapped him in a hug. "Welcome to our house," she said, looking at Luke like she's known him her whole life. "I hope you like turkey."

"Yes I do. It smells delicious, Mrs. Logger," Luke said. I assumed he was referencing the burning smell that still lingered.

They went to the dining table where I was already awkwardly sitting. "H-hi Luke," I said as he took a seat next to me. This dinner was a bad idea.

"Hey Beth," he said, seeming completely relaxed. He was dressed a little fancier that usual in a frayed button-down shirt, dark blue jeans, and grayish boots. "This is a nice place," he said looking at the photos and vases around him.

"It only looks nice 'cause you came over," I said. "Otherwise, here would be a hot mess."

"Wow. I feel so special."

I snorted. As usual, Luke's ease managed to calm me down. "Come on. Let's help set the table."

The four of us put plates of semi-burnt slices of turkey, potato salad, and a pitcher of iced tea onto our small table, decorated with the fanciest tablecloth Mom could find. When we were done, we sat down to say a prayer.

Hesitantly, I held Luke hand. He closed his eyes. Suddenly I realized that I'd never asked him if he was religious. Luke was too polite to say anything anyway, and my father had already begun.

"Lord, thank you for this meal and the guest that you have brought to us. My we eat and be satisfied. In Jesus' name, amen."

"Amen," the rest of us echoed.

I released Luke's hand and twiddled with the cutlery in front of me. Dad reached out for the turkey platter and asked, "So, what do your parents do for a living, Luke?"