How Many Heroes

9- Diner

    The wall that formed the back of Ambrose High was so graffitied that it barely looked graffitied at all, just an explosion of dirt and color. Electric green symbols and slurs were the freshest layer of spray paint, towering several feet above me. I stared up at it, wondering if the same people who painted here were the same people who vandalized Maria's house.

"Why's Jesse still here for?" Maria asked. Her brown cheeks were rosy from the cold November wind.

"Mr. Smith wants to 'talk' to him," Hathaway said, pulling his thin windbreaker closer to him. "No clue why. Jesse's an idiot, but he never does anything, you know?"

Luke shrugged tiredly. Sitting quietly on the grass, he looked as if the chilly weather was pulling the energy from him. "He might not be the one doing something."

Hathaway creased his eyebrows. "The hell does that mean?"

"You know exactly what it means," Luke said. His expression became more solemn, if that were possible. "If Amy's gang can shoot the chief of police in front of all those people, then they could definitely go after Jesse."

Maria sighed. "Luke, the whole thing at the Hath's house was awful, but I think you're being a little paranoid. Yeah, Howder got shot, but he's alive. And the boy who did it going out of town for trial. Everything's fine."

"Mr. Howder is in an intensive care unit out of state. There's already been a riot and two kidnappings in the last twenty-four hours. I wouldn't call that fine." He stared up at the graffiti wall. "Maybe if I'd been a little more paranoid..."

I searched for something to say but found nothing. Luke was absolutely right; things had taken a turn for the worst. Someone was almost killed. Not to mention they're supposedly still targeting Hathaway and vandalized Maria's house. And Luke looked too tired to be seventeen- there were bags under eyes and his amber irises looked black. The only thing I was able to do was grasp his hand and hope he felt some small piece of reassurance. Luke didn't look at me or acknowledge my action, but he didn't pull away either.

"Well, that doesn't make it your fault," Hathaway said. He was pacing across the grass now, agitated. "You tried your plan and it didn't work. That sucks, but it's not your job to be the chief's bodyguard. I know you've taken it upon yourself to be some kind of vigilante or whatever, but you can't control stuff like this."

Luke shrugged again. A memory surfaced in my brain: Luke's thick, hymnlike voice saying, "Go to sleep," and four boys dropping all at once. Then, him fighting Vaughn's hulking figure, untouchable. A feeling of numbness and the thin, white scar still on my forehead. His sudden arrival at Greendale. His job...

"Guys?" A voice said. "Are you here?"

Jesse's short, skinny frame came into view, the wind whipping his black hair into his eyes. He glanced up at the graffiti wall. "Luke, why'd you tell us to meet here? This place is creepy."

Luke plucked a blade of grass and twirled it in his fingers. "Less people. After last night, thought it would be best if we laid low. Not that it will help much, but it's the most I- we- can do right now."

Maria and I looked worriedly at him. It was unusual for him to sound so dismal. Tentatively, I asked, "Where do you want to go out for lunch today, Luke?"

"Hold on a sec," Hathaway said. "What was Smith holding you back for?"

Jesse shook his head. "He said I was late to class too many times, which is a straight-up lie. I've only been tardy one time, and it was 'cause Vaughn wanted to see if could bench-press me. Now I got a detention."