wasting time » lh ; mc

three

:: 03 ::

       Luke wasn't necessarily reliant on his father's popularity, but if that's what got him noticed, then he'd take it. And so far, it has. By an annoying, overachieving athlete, but it was attention nonetheless.

In all honesty, hockey wasn't all that popular if compared to the other sports, so how Luke came to think that people would actually care about his father was beyond him. They did, though, and that was the only interesting thing that Luke had about himself that would gain him friends.

Even through all the press conferences and interviews he's sat at the side of, with many of the people talking to he and his mother, Luke's never been very good at social things. It's not that he couldn't talk to people, in fact he thrived in that department. And that was the problem.

Luke was annoying, talkative, needy, and searching for acceptance. Most just referred to him as annoying and needy. There was a reason; no one asked for it.

It's not like they would ever find out if they did ask, anyway. It's a pathetic reason, so Luke spares the waste of time that it'd be.

Part of it is him not being very good at anything, especially the thing everyone expects him to be phenomenal at: hockey. But, no. Luke would probably be a decent coach, since he could tell you everything that separates an amazing player from a good player, a good player from a simple, 'you tried, kid, here's a pat on the back,' player, and that from an absolutely awful one. He could tell you everything you needed to know about hockey just from his lifetime of hearing coaches and players and commentators speak about it.

Luke just lacked the ability to actually play it.

Seeing Michael on the ice was enjoyable, since the boy really was a nice player, but the only thing that annoyed Luke was how highly not only other students, but also Michael himself, talked of his skills. So that's why Luke had to test it, go to the first game of the school year and try to figure out what everyone was so impressed by.

And, yeah, Michael was good. High school level good. Possessing that amount of talent won't get you into the NHL. Or that's how Luke sees it, anyway. If you're not good enough to get noticed, then you're not good enough to go into the professional league.

Right now, Luke was avoiding going to another cookout that one of his father's hockey buddies always had by attempting to be good at something. Since he had talked to Coach Clifford, who sadly is also Michael's dad, about him trying out for baseball sometime soon, Luke wanted to make sure he didn't make a fool of himself. Now especially, knowing that Michael sits and criticizes the whole baseball team after school.

He read somewhere on the dreadful excuse of a school bulletin board that they used to have a rugby team, but it had been removed from the sports department. Luke just barely knew how to play that at least. When he was ten, there were these kids that used to meet up and play some form of rugby, just gentle enough that their moms didn't yell at them when they got home with dirt and grass stains everywhere.

He might have to get it back.

The sun was intense today, making beads of sweat form at Luke's hairline not even five minutes after he walked outside. He still spent over an hour batting and pitching at nothing but air.

Luke was sitting down in the grass of his backyard, picking at it when his father emerged from the backdoor. "Are you sure you don't want to go?" he asked, "Haven't seen anyone in a while, have you?"

"Depends on which team you're talking about," Luke shrugged. "You hung out with your buddies from the Rangers, like, a week ago. Wasn't Gretzky just here for dinner? Nice guy, haven't seen him since I was four." Could probably say the same for the amount of times I see you, Luke wanted to say. Because, there's no way his father could deny it.

He couldn't help it, either, and Luke knew that, but it still hurt that his own dad was never around just because he was still attached to a sport he never played anymore. Still recognized because of it, even though it's not like all the attention is on him now—not like it used to be. His name was said and you immediately knew who he was, and Luke's father loved the tiniest mention of himself or his accolades.

Sometimes Luke really hates hockey.

And if his dad could sense that, he obviously didn't show it when he replied, "Me and your mother will be back later, then. Love you, Luke."

"Love you, too, Dad."

       When Luke moved back into Pittsburgh for his junior year, he really didn't expect high school to be filled with such meatheads. Not even just the jocks; Easton Valley seemed to be the place to go for losing some brain cells from a simple conversation.

Even if he did want to be noticed, Luke didn't want to be noticed by obnoxious, clueless people.

Apparently after the scene with Michael, students must've been so desperate for something (Luke's not sure what), that they looked up Andrew Hemmings and finally grasped who he was. It was obvious they only learned recently; whenever Luke would try to go more in depth with the topic they stuttered and some even giggled and said something to change the subject. Also because when Luke did call out Michael, everyone looked confused.

"Hemmings!" a voice shouted, making the blonde groan. He had just finished being sucked up to by people who usually suck up to Michael, which is gross in itself, but now the boy himself wants to bother Luke and it's barely past morning yet.

"Michael," Luke nodded a stiff greeting, continuing his way through the crowded hallway with the boy following quickly after him.

"Look, my dad needs you to see him after school," Michael said. "For, like, the stupid baseball team or something."

With a small smirk now on his face, Luke turns his head toward Michael for the first time since his name had been called. "If you're there, are you gonna call me the Devil again?"

"Possibly, since I only tell the truth. Apparently you don't, though. You can't admit that I'm actually good at hockey." For a full ten seconds Michael made it without a reason to boost his ego. Almost eleven, Luke had counted since he was so prepared for it.

"I can admit that you're put way higher on the greatness scale than you need to be," he said. A boy beside him rammed a shoulder into his, making him stop for a second and feel Michael stop as well. They were by Luke's classroom anyway, this conversation had to end sometime and if not he was just going to walk away from it. He didn't feel like having anymore idiotic and meaningless conversation today.

A roll of his eyes and a scoff was all Luke got in reply for a few seconds before Michael added, "Whatever, just be at the baseball field, alright, Tater Tot?"

Luke rose his eyebrow but nodded anyway, saying, "Sure, Bald Eagle."

       • • •

aLL OVer thE PLACe and short but you guys like this story so far (more like the story so far AM I RIGHT LADIES) n that makes me crY

ok ilya bye :-)