Luke

Chapter 1

"I smoked my first cigarette when I was 15. I’d like to think it wasn’t because of stress, but it probably was. My “social environment” wasn’t “adequate” says the counselor. Fuck her, she doesn’t even know what that even means. I don’t even fucking care what it means. I don’t even know why I went to that asshole in the first place. I don’t really fucking care if my life is stressful. I mean, I go through about a pack a day, maybe 2 on a bad day. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I just need a way to relieve the stress I’m under, whether it be with a cig or a drink. I don’t know, it doesn’t really matter. He's just so fucking annoying. Not even annoying, that’s not the word to describe him. More like an asshole or dickhead. Ever since dad died he’s become more of a fucking douchebag who only cares about her. I don’t even fucking care if she’s in the hospital half the time she needs to be fucking gone. I just need to get out of here. Maybe I’ll throw myself in front of a car. See if that helps."

“He really pissed you off that much? What’d he even do?”

I turned towards Jay. We were laying on her roof having a smoke, pretty much what we did on a daily basis. The soft wind was harsh against our skin and nipped at our noses, now red and runny. It was definitely colder than usual, that was for sure. 

“I don’t even remember. Something about my grades or something. Maybe how I didn’t visit Lilly in the hospital. Something stupid. He’s not my fucking father, why can’t he get that picture into his head?”

She tapped the ashes into the blackened ashtray and rose the cigarette to her mouth to take another pull. “Well, it’s Sam. I may not have met him really, but he seems to think he has all the power in the house because he’s the oldest and took care of you and stuff like that.” She made a ring with her smoke and it faded out into the dark sky.

“I’m fucking 19 years old. I don’t need to be fucking told what I can and can’t do.”

“I think we both kind of realize he’s a dick. School’s almost up for you, then you can go anywhere you want. Or you can leave whenever, I don’t know. You’re of age.”

I tapped some ashes into the tray and took a pull. “I don’t know if I should leave now. I don’t know. Maybe soon. I just need to get away from this place. It’s driving me fucking insane.”

We sat there for a moment before she took her last pull and put out her cigarette, sitting up and raising her arms to the sky. “Parent’s won’t be home tonight. You can stay over if you feel like it.”

“Thanks, Jay. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be inside. Close the window when you’re done.” She stood up and slipped inside into her bedroom.

Jay’s nice, don’t get me wrong. There’s no but in there also. She’s just…nice. I don’t know how to describe it. We’ve known each other for years, five I think. I offered her her first cig, I came over when my asshole brother pissed me off, we talked, and it was good. It still is. She’s probably the closest friend I’ve ever had. Her roof and her were the only things keeping me going then after all of that stuff happened to me. 
I’m really thankful for that.

I tapped off my ashes, some of them drifting into the air from the wind. 
After getting a final breather, I headed inside. I couldn’t deal with Sam right now. I’d just have to face him the next day. Wonderful.

I climbed up the roof and uncomfortably slid out of the window, my toes of my left foot touching the rough pink carpeted cover of the window-bed below the windowsill. 

"It's been 4 years and you still don't know how to get through that window," Jay laughed from the other side of the room. 

"Well I'm way taller than you," I replied, kneeling on the window-bed and closing the wooden frame, my fingers numb and black from the mixture of coldness and soot outside. 

"That's not even an excuse," Jay closed her closet, walking across her bedroom to her messy bed. The white sheets and down blankets were crumpled in heaps. I don't really remember her bed ever being made. She sat down, sitting Indian style on the bed. Her black hair was messy and she wore a large black sweater and short boxer shorts ; that was her usual attire at her house. 

I sat upon the floor, leaning against the window-bed and digging my heels into her rug. The coolness of her wooden floor soaked through my worn jeans. 

"What're you doing at school tomorrow?" Jay asked me from the bed.

"Nothing special. Just school stuff. I think I have a couple tests."

"Aren't you failing science or something?"

"I'm failing all my classes," I laughed.

She laughed too. "Same, basically." 

"How about you?" I inquired.

"I have an essay due in two days that I haven't started on."

"I feel that."

"Legit, Mr. Rosenford is ridiculous."

"Wasn't he involved in a drug deal or something?"

"No I don't think so."

"Are you sure?"

"No, actually," her eyes lit up in amusement. "But that would be awesome! I can finally get some shit for free!" 

I laughed softly, too tired to actually laugh. 

"Want some food?" Jay questioned, pulling out a bag of crackers from the corner of her bed which met the wall. 

"Nah, I'm good."

"Did you even eat today?"

"I wasn't hungry."

"Of course you weren't. More for me then." She ripped open the white and green bag and took out some of the small, pale yellow crackers, shoving five in her mouth at a time. Goldfish was always her favorite food. I smiled.

"Your hair is growing out," I noticed, indicating the thickening side of her head where it was usually shaven down

She felt her head with her cheese-covered fingers. "Yeah, I realized. I need to cut it again."

"Want me to?" I asked her, more than happy to help.

"Nah, I'm good. I'm not really in the mood," she replied, mouth full of Parmesan crackers. 

"Okay." 

She looked over at me and we held eye contact for a minute, making faces at each other. My eyes squinted and she copied me; it was a silent game of Simon Says. Our faces contorted, tongues stuck out and eyes were crossed, and then headaches formed from those eye-crossings battle games. 

She laughed after I won with my signature head tilt and double-chin combination and I laughed along as well, standing up and walking over to her beckoning hands. I lay down on her bed and buried my head in her pillow. It smelt of cigarette smoke and air freshener, the basic components of her bedroom.

"Thanks for letting me stay," I breathed into the pillow.

She took the final bites of golden crackers, the crunching sound soft in her mouth, placing it in the corner. She lay down next to me and placed a hand over my side, her face buried in my worn-out black Abercrombie sweater a got at a garage sale somewhere. 

"Don't mention it."