Luke

Chapter 6

Monday. It’s bad enough that there’s school at 7:30 in the fucking morning, but it’s right after a weekend. I’m not ready for this shit. I sighed and dragged myself out of bed, trudging over to my laundry basket and basically just threw on whatever shit my hand touched first this morning. I mean, it doesn’t really matter; all my clothes are black anyway.

I grabbed my backpack and went into the kitchen to pack a lunch. Not that I ate lunch, but just in case I wanted a snack. Sam was at the table eating breakfast and reading over some papers. 

"Where were you yesterday?" He asked, taking a sip of coffee. 

"Jay's," I answered, too exhausted to come up with a good insult.

"Always at Jay's," he muttered under his breath. "I have a couple appointments later today, so I need you home to take care of Lilly."

"No promises."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"I might have stuff to do after school."

"Your sister is more important than the 'stuff' you do after school."

"She's your sister. Not mine."

He sighed angrily. "You know what? I really don't feel like arguing with you right now."

"Good. I don't want to argue with you either."

"I expect you home later today to take care of her."

"Can't she fucking take care of herself? What is she? 14? 15? She's old enough to turn on a stove and boil some fucking water."

He glared at me in disapproval. I let out a scoff.

"Unbelievable. You're unbelievable. She can take care of herself! She's not gonna grow up if you keep babying her her whole life!"

"I'm not babying her. And when did you start to care how she's raised? Finally taking an interest? Maybe you should start checking in on her and bringing her to doctor appointments and to friends' houses, because that would be a major fucking help to the family."

I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, pulling the door open and slamming it behind me. I hated even thinking about Lilly, let alone taking care of her. She could take care of herself. Hell, I could take care of myself when I was that age. Jay could when she was even younger than that. It wasn't even that fucking hard. 

I got to the intersection and crossed the street, trying my best to avoid cars and people I knew. I was already relatively late for school, so I had to rush. Not that I cared if I was late. I just wanted something to distract me. 

I walked down the street through downtown, going up the campus sidewalk to the entrance of school. I went to my locker first on the second floor and grabbed whatever I needed for the day and shoved it into my bag, then trudged up another flight to start this hellhole of a day.

I basically passed out in all my classes, but none of the teachers noticed because I’m always put in the very back of the room. Perks of having a name that starts with a W, I guess. 

When lunch came around, which was around 1pm for our school, I met up with Jay near the cafeteria entrance and we headed out towards the bleachers for lunch.

“No food for lunch again?” Jay asked, pulling out a paper sack from her bag.

“I forgot to put it in my bag," I started. "And I wasn't feeling very lunch-y anyway."

“You’re never lunch-y. That’s why you’re bone thin.”

“I’m bone thin because I do crack a lot. You’re thin, too.”

“Yeah, but at least I eat.”

"I eat, too."

"Apparently not enough."

I sighed and pulled out my pack of cigarettes, the amount of them dwindling low. I lit it and took a pull, leaning against the chilled metal of the bleacher rails. The smell of smoke calmed me down a little.

"Isn't Jenkins out?" Jay asked.

"Is he? I was late today."

"I think so. Yeah, he is. I saw him on the list."

"Sweet. Got that class free then."

"You lucky shit."

I smirked, taking another pull of my cigarette. Jay checked her phone for the time, then started packing up her food and bag. "Gotta head to class."

"Just skip," I told her. I didn't really want to be left alone.

"It's Rosenburg. She'll have my head on a stick if I skip."

I moaned, leaning my head against the rails. "But I love you."

She smirked, slinging her bag onto her shoulder. "Such a sad love story we have."

"I hate you."

"I'll see you later, okay?" She climbed down the steps, the bleachers screeching with each step she took. 

"Bye," I replied back, taking another pull of my cigarette and blowing a failed smoke ring. I could never get them with cigarette smoke. 

I heard some guys coming from around the corner onto the field. I looked up; it was 5 guys. I waited a little bit until they got closer to figure out who they were. Fuck, not them. Wait, is he with them? I sat up straighter, checking the group of guys running towards a football. Shit he is. Try and not be noticeable.

I leaned back down, placing both of my meet upon the top rail I was sitting. I took another pull and let go, peaking over at the guys tossing a football around. God he looks so great today. I mean he always looks pretty great, but wow. What’s different? His hair looks the same, maybe it’s his shirt? He usually doesn’t wear something like that. He should wear something like that more often. It looks really hot on him. He’s laughing holy shit. I can hear it from here. He’s fucking smiling. God he’s so…wait what the fuck am I talking about? It’s a guy. Fuck I’m getting out of here.

I put out my cigarette and flung my bag over my shoulder, dropped down from the bleachers as fast as I could, and ran. What the fuck was I thinking? ‘He should wear something like that more often,’ what the fuck.

I reached the school building and slid down the brick wall, catching my breath. My lungs really did fucking suck.

Get yourself together, Luke. He did not look good in that shirt. He doesn’t even look good in general. He’s Brad fucking Decker, the fucking lead jock of the whole school. I mean, yeah I guess he looked kinda nice. His hair was like, wow. Damn it Luke get your shit together. The fuck is wrong with you, you idiot! Just shut up and get back inside and splash your face.

I grabbed my bag and opened the closest door, looking around desperately for a downstairs bathroom. My head felt fuzzy, like static on a television. 

I finally found a bathroom and pushed the door open, turning on the water and splashing the cool water to my face, hoping it would wake me up. My breathing was shallow; I couldn't catch my breath. Not because I rushed to get the fuck out of there and my lungs don’t work right, even though that’s partly true, but I couldn’t get him out of my head. Fuck this, never mind. I twisted the water knob off and pulled the bathroom door open, heading to my hiding spot in school: the unused custodians’ closet. It's sometimes used as a make-out room during certain periods of the day, but luckily it was all to myself right now. I looked around before I snuck inside, sitting down on the floor and leaning against the wall. I focused on my breathing, trying to calm myself down. My head was still reeling; I couldn't get his face out of my head. Or his laugh. And smile. Fuck! 

I slammed my head into the wall, hoping it would stop me from thinking. I held my head, now pulsating in pain, pulling my knees up to my chest and burying my face in between them. I needed to stop thinking. I needed to stop living. 

The next thing I knew, the bell was ringing for next class. I stood up quickly, getting light-headed from the sudden change in position. I grabbed the wall for support until my vision came back into view, then grabbed my backpack and snuck out of the small room and up to class. Math. I wasn’t even good at math. I entered the room and dropped into my chair in the back right corner, pulling out my notebook and a pencil. I felt like drawing. I'm a shit artist; I've always been. 

Once the drawings didn't work out very well, I worked on some lyrics for the band. Shit I have that after school. God damn it. I can’t bail again.

Class was over before I knew it. Next class. Same routine: get inside, don’t listen, don’t talk, pay attention to nothing, move on.

As soon as the last bell rang, I went to my locker to drop off my stuff. Brielle was waiting for me happily at my locker. Wonderful.

“Hi, baby,” she greeted, as usual, giving me a full-blown kiss.

“Hi,” I responded, doing the combo on my locker as she hung onto my neck. 

“Want me to drive you to practice? I know you hate walking there, especially with those bad lungs of yours,” she laughed and poked me. Please don’t fucking poke me. The fuck is wrong with you, Brielle?

“Yeah sure,” I sighed, shutting my locker. I looked beyond Brielle and saw Brad again talking to some girl. Why is he talking to her? She’s not even close to his league. Wait, what the fucking am I thinking? 

“Come on,” I grumbled, turning around quickly as I walked off. I needed to get out of there. Fast.