‹ Prequel: The Little Drummer Boy
Status: New! In progress.
Scout's Honor
Luke: the Badass
Paint your face, tonight we terrorize this town,
Coffin case, we gather, our time is now.
“Lucas?”
10/31 we roam the streets in thirst for blood.
“Lucas!”
It all begins (all begins with you) with your life.
“Lucas! Get down here!”
From all the way downstairs, she could hear a crash. Undoubtedly, it was her teenage son falling off of his chair. He had a knack for ignoring her when he wanted to. He always told her differently, though; that he wasn't ignoring her. Rather, he was distracted by the so-called music that made his mother's ears bleed.
She didn't have to wait much longer until he came rushing down the stairs, dark hair sticking up in every way possible, hazel eyes holding the utmost confusion, clothes wrinkled and stained. She looked him up and down, eyebrows raised.
“You're not going out like that,” she told him. “You look like a homeless person with that hair and those dirty clothes! Look, there's even a hole in your socks.”
She was right. He wiggled his toes around, suddenly aware of the discomfort.
He shook his head. “Mom, why do I have to look good on the first day of school? I'm a senior now – no one but the freshmen care what they look like.”
“I'm not asking you to look your best, Luke. I'm asking you to look healthy and like I haven't abandoned you. What if you meet a new lady friend, too, hmm? You don't want her–”
And suddenly, he was gone. She heard his bedroom door slam and couldn't help but laugh to herself. He never did like it when she mentioned “lady friends” around him. Not because he was too shy or too unattractive to date, but because a mother talking to her teenage son about another woman was just wrong on too many levels.
Upstairs, Luke glanced at the clock. It read 6:49am in bright, red letters. He had eleven minutes before his best friend came to pick him up.
The music was still playing softly in the background as he dug through his closet, hoping to find a single shirt that was stainless and unwrinkled. It was like finding the hay in the needle stack. Not only was it difficult, but it also assaulted most of his senses – seeing all the food that had gone to waste, smelling all the food that had gone to waste, and breathing in potentially toxic fumes of sweat-stained clothes. It was, overall, an unpleasant adventure.
By the time the clock read 6:57, Luke had brushed his teeth, deodorized, combed out some of his hair, and even found some clean clothes he didn't think existed: skinny jeans that were just a little too long for his legs, held up by a black-and-white checkered belt, a HIM band shirt, and a pair of sneakers he's owned since middle school that still, in some miraculous way, fit.
Just as he grabbed his backpack, someone outside beeped their car's horn. He ran down the stairs, waved goodbye to his mother, and threw himself out the door. He felt rushed and almost excited to go to school, but when he saw a girl sitting inside the blue Honda Civic, he knew something was up. He slowed down his pace and walked over to the driver's window casually, making sure it really was Dylan's car.
“What's the problem, man?” Dylan asked, noticing Luke's surprise.
“You got a new girlfriend?” he asked, somewhat jokingly to erase the tension he was feeling between his friend and the redhead in the passenger seat. His seat.
“She's new here, ease up.”
Ease up. How was Luke supposed to ease up when he was blindsided by this event? Maybe he was overreacting, but he and Dylan always told each other when something was going to change. Neither of them enjoyed change, and surely didn't welcome it unexpectedly. But when the girl waved a hand at him, he felt all of the annoyance wash away. She was gorgeous.
“I'm Deanna,” she introduced, sticking her hand out to him.
“Lucas,” he smiled, taking her hand graciously. Thank you, mother, for not letting me out of the house until I looked presentable. (I never thought I'd say that before.)
Dylan, irritated by the handshaking going on just inches from his nose, said, “Alright, now that that's settled, get in the car, Luke.”
The whole car ride, Luke felt himself unable to look away from Deanna. He never saw someone so simple, yet gorgeous. To Dylan, she probably looked like a regular girl, but to Luke, she was undeniably beautiful. All he had to do was keep the attention off of himself – girls liked that, didn't they? When they were the center of attention? As long as he kept to himself and got her to do all the talking, it would be fine. She only had to know that he's been the school's goalie for their varsity hockey team since freshmen year. None of the crap about being a goody-two-shoes, Catholic, boy scout. He was going to be Luke: the Badass, the guy with –
“So, Lucas, I hear you were a Boy Scout back in the day?” she asked.
Coffin case, we gather, our time is now.
“Lucas?”
10/31 we roam the streets in thirst for blood.
“Lucas!”
It all begins (all begins with you) with your life.
“Lucas! Get down here!”
From all the way downstairs, she could hear a crash. Undoubtedly, it was her teenage son falling off of his chair. He had a knack for ignoring her when he wanted to. He always told her differently, though; that he wasn't ignoring her. Rather, he was distracted by the so-called music that made his mother's ears bleed.
She didn't have to wait much longer until he came rushing down the stairs, dark hair sticking up in every way possible, hazel eyes holding the utmost confusion, clothes wrinkled and stained. She looked him up and down, eyebrows raised.
“You're not going out like that,” she told him. “You look like a homeless person with that hair and those dirty clothes! Look, there's even a hole in your socks.”
She was right. He wiggled his toes around, suddenly aware of the discomfort.
He shook his head. “Mom, why do I have to look good on the first day of school? I'm a senior now – no one but the freshmen care what they look like.”
“I'm not asking you to look your best, Luke. I'm asking you to look healthy and like I haven't abandoned you. What if you meet a new lady friend, too, hmm? You don't want her–”
And suddenly, he was gone. She heard his bedroom door slam and couldn't help but laugh to herself. He never did like it when she mentioned “lady friends” around him. Not because he was too shy or too unattractive to date, but because a mother talking to her teenage son about another woman was just wrong on too many levels.
Upstairs, Luke glanced at the clock. It read 6:49am in bright, red letters. He had eleven minutes before his best friend came to pick him up.
The music was still playing softly in the background as he dug through his closet, hoping to find a single shirt that was stainless and unwrinkled. It was like finding the hay in the needle stack. Not only was it difficult, but it also assaulted most of his senses – seeing all the food that had gone to waste, smelling all the food that had gone to waste, and breathing in potentially toxic fumes of sweat-stained clothes. It was, overall, an unpleasant adventure.
By the time the clock read 6:57, Luke had brushed his teeth, deodorized, combed out some of his hair, and even found some clean clothes he didn't think existed: skinny jeans that were just a little too long for his legs, held up by a black-and-white checkered belt, a HIM band shirt, and a pair of sneakers he's owned since middle school that still, in some miraculous way, fit.
Just as he grabbed his backpack, someone outside beeped their car's horn. He ran down the stairs, waved goodbye to his mother, and threw himself out the door. He felt rushed and almost excited to go to school, but when he saw a girl sitting inside the blue Honda Civic, he knew something was up. He slowed down his pace and walked over to the driver's window casually, making sure it really was Dylan's car.
“What's the problem, man?” Dylan asked, noticing Luke's surprise.
“You got a new girlfriend?” he asked, somewhat jokingly to erase the tension he was feeling between his friend and the redhead in the passenger seat. His seat.
“She's new here, ease up.”
Ease up. How was Luke supposed to ease up when he was blindsided by this event? Maybe he was overreacting, but he and Dylan always told each other when something was going to change. Neither of them enjoyed change, and surely didn't welcome it unexpectedly. But when the girl waved a hand at him, he felt all of the annoyance wash away. She was gorgeous.
“I'm Deanna,” she introduced, sticking her hand out to him.
“Lucas,” he smiled, taking her hand graciously. Thank you, mother, for not letting me out of the house until I looked presentable. (I never thought I'd say that before.)
Dylan, irritated by the handshaking going on just inches from his nose, said, “Alright, now that that's settled, get in the car, Luke.”
The whole car ride, Luke felt himself unable to look away from Deanna. He never saw someone so simple, yet gorgeous. To Dylan, she probably looked like a regular girl, but to Luke, she was undeniably beautiful. All he had to do was keep the attention off of himself – girls liked that, didn't they? When they were the center of attention? As long as he kept to himself and got her to do all the talking, it would be fine. She only had to know that he's been the school's goalie for their varsity hockey team since freshmen year. None of the crap about being a goody-two-shoes, Catholic, boy scout. He was going to be Luke: the Badass, the guy with –
“So, Lucas, I hear you were a Boy Scout back in the day?” she asked.
♠ ♠ ♠
The lyrics at the beginning of this chapter are from We Only Come Out at Night by Motionless in White.