The Book Thief 》Hemmings A.U

3.00

     "When's the deadline for the contest anyway?" Luke questions, looking bored as he reads off titles from my book shelf. We had been in my room for hours, and try as I might, I couldn't think of anything good enough to make Luke have some substance, and he couldn't even decide what colleges he wanted to apply to. That meant we didn't even know the topic of the essays. It was ridiculous.

       "They do it in sets, depending on your grade. I have a few weeks, since I'm a Senior and that's when colleges start taking submissions." I say quietly, trying not to show him how worried I really was. He was making this so difficult, and at the rate that we were filling out his college apps, I felt like Brown was gone. Like I didn't stand a chance. This contest was my one shot at getting out of here. If I lost, that was it. No scholarship, no Brown, no college, no education, no...anything. I know that my thinking might have seemed dramatic, and these were all 'what if's', but in the grand scheme of things, these 'what if's' could make or break me. Those 'what if's' were chances I wasn't willing to take.

     "How many weeks?"

      "Few enough to not be wasting them on you," I growl, sick of his questions and his stupid remarks and how he was just lounging around being an ass instead of helping me. It was his college career we were trying to jump start here. His essays, his choice and safety schools, his applications. All him. Yet I was the one doing all of the work. 

      "Cool it Cohen, it's just a question." He says, shooting me a surprised look. He thought just because he had my files I was going to kiss up to him. Not likely. "Why do you have all of these boring books?"

      "You need to stop asking so many questions." I deadpan, angrily punching at the keys of my typewriter.

       "And you need to start giving some answers. I'm a naturally curious person, the naturally curious are inclined to ask questions to satisfy their evergrowing curiosity."

         "And the naturally irritated are inclined to hit people who irritate them. Airgo, you." I snap, rolling my eyes.

        "You have a lot of anger for such a tiny girl, you know that?" Luke says, biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling.

       "Well excuse me for not being happy with the fact that you're holding my ticket to freedom in the palm of your hands. You refuse to return it, even though I would probably have helped you either way."

        "You're just saying that so I'll give your files back."

       "Am not."

        "Are so. Admit it. We've barely spoken until I took your entry, you wouldn't have thought twice about helping me if I didn't have some kind of leverage over you."

       "Fine. Maybe you're right. But you never made an effort to speak to me and I hardly know you, so I can't see why you would want me to help you."

       "It's not like you made an effort to talk to me either, but you're smart and a good writer. Naturally, you were my first choice."

       "How do you know that?" I question, looking up from the keyboard and looking at Luke instead, who shrugs and twirls his thumbs around one another. He had stopped searching through my book shelf, deeming all of it's contents unworthy since according to him, they were all boring. He sat with his back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. "I mean, why do you think that I'm a good writer?"

       "Lucy's always talking about it, I guess. And you were reading this thing to her over the phone one night, and I was going to ask her something for our mom, so I was outside of her door and her cell was on speaker, so I heard you. You get really excited about writing, your voice kind of has this lit up tone to it. It's...nice. I don't really see you getting excited about a lot of things." Luke rubs the back of his neck when he finishes speaking, and his eyes keep flickering between me and the floor, like he can't decide where he wants to look.