Michael was absent on Monday and Tuesday.
Wednesday, he was there as if he always had been, starring straight head at the bored through a swollen, purple eye when Luke entered the classroom and sat down beside him.
The two were the first in the room.
Neither boy greeted or acknowledged the other, Michael stared at the bored, Luke positioned his head in the direction of the window, pretending to look out and looked at Michael, and both consciously focused on their breathing, neither wanting to be the one to emit an audible breath.
Michael could sense Luke looking at him and tried hard to ignore it, but the large blonde's icy stare raised the hair at the back of Michael's neck and had him collapsing in on himself self consciously.
He was considering leaving class to free himself from the boy's gaze, however, before he could, Luke reached over and slowly slid his notebook onto Michael's desk.
The book was flipped open to a random page and scribbled at the top in writing that was somehow both atrocious and elegant, were three words.
Are you alright?
Alright; a synonym for okay yet somehow completely different. When someone asks if you're okay, you say fine and you walk away. Are you alright felt as if it came from a place of genuine curiosity.
Scowling, Michael glanced over at Luke, who was looking at his hands folded in his lap, and wondered why he hadn't just asked him verbally, however instead of shattering the silence, Michael picked up his pencil and hastily scribbled his reply before placing the notebook back on Luke's desk.
Then Luke answered, their exchanges going as follows...
Why do you ask?
You have a black eye.
I fell.
On what a fist?
It's none of your business.
Why not?
Because it's my face.
But I like your face. I'm emotionally invested in it.
What does that mean?
I don't know.
Michael could tell his face was red because his ears were on fire as he stared down at the notebook in front of him, wondering why he cared what the awkward spawn of the Green Giant sat beside him, thought of his face.
And then Luke was talking, destroying the quiet.
"My whole family died in a car accident the week before Christmas, I live with my cousin Amanda and her family. The thing on my arm, I'm not like, depressed, I was supposed to die with them, I didn't go to the game and I should have. I'm supposed to be dead."
Shocked, Michael slowly turned to look at Luke who was picking at a hangnail on his thumb.
The two sat there in absolute silence for a moment and then Michael was clearing his throat nervously.
"My Mom is crazy. Not, I'm a teenager and I think my parents suck crazy, she's forgetting I'm her son and thinking I'm breaking in crazy. But please don't tell anyone that, then Child Protective Services will be at my house again."
He regretted speaking as soon as he started. He knew that Luke was probably judging him, or worse pitying him.
The silence between them was deafening, until Luke tentatively spoke again, "If you need anything, somewhere to go, someone to talk to, I'm here.... If you want."
His heart swelling at the rare gesture of kindness, Michael mumbled an almost inaudible thank you. Even though there was no way he'd except the help, it was comforting to know it was there.
Students started entering the classroom then, signaling the end of their conversation.
Luke turned back to the bored and Michael looked down at his desk where Luke's notebook was sitting.
He stared at it for several seconds and then flipping to a new page hastily wrote something down before handing it back to Luke.
If you were supposed to die, you would be dead. You're not, you're alive for a reason, so please don't try again.
