Lost - LRH

Chapter 2

The rest of the day passes by and before I know it, I am in my last period, art. Electives were usually at the end of the day. I shuffle into the art room with Luke walking in along with me, on my right.

This is the only class I bother to pay attention to, the only class I feel like I belong. Ms. Hernandez, the art teacher, is the only teacher that seems to like me. Luke and I sit near the corner of the classroom, our usual seats.

"Class, your assignment this week is to create something of your deepest despair, we will only be doing sketches today." Ms. Hernandez announces.

I feel Luke tense beside me. I look over at him and tilt my head in confusion. What's wrong with him? I debate whether I should ask him, I shrug it off. Luke and I never really talk about our feelings, I am a close book, so is he. I let out a sigh of frustration, one of us should open soon. I hope its him.

This time Luke looks over to me. He raises a brow to question. I should ask him. I open my mouth but feel my throat dry. I stare at him with my mouth slightly parted, I try to find my words but I can't. I close my mouth and shake my head, showing him I don't feel like talking about it. I lied. I do want to talk about it. I want to talk to him about everything, I just don't know where to start.

About an hour into class, I finish my rough sketch for my project, a picture of a sickly woman laying in a hospital bed; my mother. I turn to Luke who .is shielding his sketch with his arm. I watch his eyebrows frow together as his wrist flicks and twist, drawing circles and lines. His attention is directed to his sketch, I don't think he knows that I am observing him. Observing, thats not the word. Staring is more like it, its been twice that I've found myself stare at Luke today.

My curiosity grows, I shift in my chair, trying to catch a glimpse of Luke's sketch. I fail, his arm and body hovers over his creation, his deepest despair.

I shift back into center of my seat, giving up, and stare at my sketch. I feel a pain tug at my heart as I stare at the pencil-drawn woman. She was faceless, I hadn't gone into detail yet, but I can see that its her. I see her lay in the bleach white sheets as I approach her. I can see her give me another weary smile. No, I can't see it, I can feel it.

My vision blurs as tears form in my eyes. I close my sketchbook and look out the window, trying to think of anything else. I don't want to cry, not here. I will not cry, I refuse to look weak in front of my classmates; in front of Luke.

I loose myself to my memories, memories of 3 years ago, when things were happier. This doesn't help, I try to hold back my tears.

The bell rings. Luke nudges me for what feels like the 50th time today. I stay seated, I don't want to stand. I know that when I stand, my legs will give in and I will sob on the floor. I will look pathetic and I don't want a pity look from Luke.

Luke tries to pull me up but I shake my head vigorously. I look down at my lap and twiddle my thumbs.

"Y-you should go. I need time to myself right now." I manage to squeeze out as I hold back my tears.

Luke stands still for a minute. I expect him to leave but he just replies, "Come on." He holds out his hand.

I don't want to seem like weakling so I take his hand. The touch of his skin sends waves of electricity throughout my body. Luke and I had never had physical contact except whenever he nudged me with his elbow.

I look up at him, he towers over me and stares at me with his beautiful blue eyes. I see that his mouth begins to curve, creating a slight smile. I hadn't realized that we've been staring at each other for ages. I feel heat creep onto my cheeks and I turn away to hide my blush.

"Sorry." I murmur, barely audible with my mouth on my shoulder.

Luke doesn't reply, just tugs on my sleeve and walks out the classroom door. I follow, as always.