buzzcut season

7.

For the next two weeks that I avoid Mal, I find Luka everywhere. I'm not even avoiding her, it's just what used to be us chatting all day around the house has been reduced to small talk. Luka is now replacing all the time we would spend together.

I get the dumb cast off my hand in half a week and then I can stop getting a thousand questions about what happened. I really only talk to like three people and I don't leave the house much so I have no idea how I get asked it so frequently.

I walk out of my room to get cereal. It's Saturday morning. As soon as I see Mal and Luka I go to turn back in my room.

"Oh quit it," she says to me. "I'm leaving in a minute. You can suck it up and be in my presence for a bit."

I sigh.

For once in my life I'm not waking up on a weekend with a killer headache. The sun bleeding into the kitchen is still enough to make me want to go back to bed.

I want to ask where she's going but I'm still to stubborn to talk to her unless I have to.

"Kate and I are going out later," I say as I grab milk out of the fridge.

"What? What do you mean going out?"

I ignore her.

I want her to think it's a date but really Kate is just my temporary replacement of Mal.

Luka sits at the table and I awkwardly sit next to him.

"Okay well I'll be back in twenty minutes I've just got to go deal with something," Mal says vaguely. She seems a little rushed and concerned so curiosity washes over me but I don't ask.

Once she rushes out the door I realize she's not taking Luka with her. Had I known he was staying I wouldn't of sat here.

"You going to ignore me forever?"

I don't look at him but I shrug.

"I had to move. My dad didn't give me a choice," Luka says quietly.

I still don't look up but he continues on.

"I tried to say bye but things were tough. I had a lot of problems to deal with and— well they don't matter now but it put me in a tight spot."

The more he talks the more I recognize the Luka I used to know. The soft spoken and calm little kid.

See, once upon a time Luka was the sweetest child ever. Then as he grew older he became more sour and rude.

Maybe it was to do with his abusive father and absent mother. None of us really ever talked about personal things like family but I wasn't dumb. I knew his father hit him. But in a way, I was dumb. I pretended I didn't know. I pretended not to notice all the bruises. I never asked. I just would invite him over for a bit and give him all the ice cream he wanted for dinner. That's how it was, none of us discussed that kinda thing.

Even now he won't mention anything.

"My dad died a couple months ago, that's why I'm back."

I look up at him.

"I'm sorry about that," I frown.

He shrugs.

I want so bad to get up and leave the tense situation but my, still very full, bowl of cereal keeps my tied here.

"You still could've called," I say.

Staring at him I notice him change again. It's like a brick wall put up and he looks so much colder. Then he shrugs again.