It was him. I loved him. Luke.
We sat there, right under the bleachers in the gym like some teen drama cliché. The orchestra pumped out notes to slap onto college applications in the room behind us.
Luke thought it was romantic.
He also had this bad habit of smoking at school. His burnt fingers sharply contrasted against the bleached white uniform shirt.
The teachers weren’t dumb. They could smell it. But their underpaid minds wouldn’t muster up the spirit to report us. They would catch hell for reporting two Ivy bound students.
It was the school's main selling point. Luke called us invincible because of that.
We sat under the bleachers. He kissed me. He tasted like bitter smokes.
“Ya know, we’re getting out of this shit hole right?”
I smiled at him, laughing until I leaned back into him. Smokey. I wish he would stop.
“I promise, I’ll treat ya right once we get to college. You can go to your uppity school in Hanover and I’ll bus in from Cambridge.”
He handed me the remainder of his cigarette.
We walked out the gym but oh god it was the dumbed down jocks one swung a bat it hit Luke again again another one punched him again again he
was crying red smack smack PLEASE STOP smack OR WHAT FAGGOT smack smack the others laughed taunted we promised each other a clapboard house and a German shepherd those dreams leaked out
his head onto the pavement they wouldn’t stop I had to make them stop.
I ground the dying cigarette into the arm of the bat wielder. He grasped his arm. He let go. I grabbed the bat, swung swung around around smash smash smash, the ground now a bloody mash.
Later, in shackles, an officer asked me why I did it.
“Because we are invincible.”