The Book Thief 》Hemmings A.U

11.00

      THE FUCKING ASSHAT HAD left me here in the brutal cold with little to keep myself warm while my ankle was broken. Broken. What kind of a person does that to someone? Because of the alternate side I had seen of him as of late, part of me wanted to think that maybe, just maybe, he had a good reason for leaving me here. But there wasn't. I knew there was no way that he got caught, he shot away from that police officer in the blink of an eye and there is no way that the Danny DeVito looking man could have caught up to him. I wanted to believe that he was coming back to get me or that something had stopped him from already doing so but Luke was an ass. One night in an elderly care facility wouldn't change that.

      Luke had my phone in his back pocket, which completely cancelled out calling someone for help. I had no phone, no money or resources of any kind, no anything except for a spare change of clothes. God, I wasn't even wearing shoes. But I had to get out here, even if it meant dragging myself back home. At this point, it looked like that was my only option. If I stayed here any longer, I could either freeze to death, encounter a creepy psycho killer in the dead of night, or be caught. None of those options were the slightest bit appealing.

       I pull the jeggings off of my arms because I would rather be cold than constricted, even if it means that goose flesh is bound to spring up along my skin. I grit my teeth together and reach for the highest branch that I can manage, locking my fingers around it and tug, tug, tugging until I manage to pull myself up. The sudden movement causes me to whimper, my swelling ankle grounding into the grass beneath me. I. Fucking. Hated. Luke. 

          The night after Lucy dumped a crab in Alaric's pants, I was put immediately at ease. Through her small, yet deliberate act of terror against the boy not accustomed to person space, Lucy had fortified our friendship. In California, I had friends, but not the kind who come over to your house without asking and who you exchange clothes and sleepovers and secrets and things of all kinds with. Never a best friend, until Lucy. I was grateful and happy and excited all at once because she made Wilmington so much more fun than it really was. But, maybe if I knew that she had a twin brother acting as the spawn of satan, then I wouldn't have been so eager to have my first sleepover with her or to spending so much time at her house. Said sleepover invitation was extended to me several years after we had already been friends, but, it was still my first.

      For a long time my mother was under the impression that I would die if I slept over at someone else's house --I had no fucking idea why, but she was really adamant about telling me every three seconds-- and it took me a couple of years to convince her that I would be fine, that the house was next door, that she should kindly calm the fuck down (not in those exact words), which is why finally, at 15, I was having my first sleepover.

       At this point, I had long since divided the student body into two equal parts. The half that couldn't care less about the future of their lives and couldn't live without at least a weekly hit from a bong, and the half that studied themselves into their graves. Half of them didn't care where they ended up, the other half had to make absolutely sure that they got as far away from North Carolina as humanly possible. Lucy might have had one too many drunken nights and slept with her fair share of boys, but she was still self aware and the smartest person that I had ever met. People think that if you drink or do drugs or have sex that you're done for. That you can never be anything greater than your seemingly bad habits, but that's wrong. Your faults or habits don't define you, you define you and only you get final say in what makes or breaks you. Lucy was living proof of that. 

        Lucy and I had three weeks to do a partner project and she suggested that we complete it immediately. That way, we would have the rest of the time free of worry to do whatever we wanted. That day, she invited me over to her house where I was to spend the night and we worked on our project until dear old Luke interrupted. I knew that Lucy had a brother, but up until that night, I had yet to see him. Well, I saw him around school, but I didn't know that they were related or who exactly he was, since Luke was always out late or locked up in his room. At this point, Lucy and I had already been friends for a few years, but, we had just never slept over each other's houses.

         But that night Luke burst in, phone dangling from his left hand, an easy smile spread across his lips. "Cal's bringing beer, you in?" He pressed his phone against his chest and with crinkled brows, his blue eyes tore right through me. "Who's that?" At this time, Lucy didn't dabble in alcoholism just yet, nor had she developed her infatuation for Calum. Had she been able to predict the future, this would have been an invitation too perfect to resist.

        "My friend, Kendall. And no, thanks, I'll pass." Luke nodded and turned around, leaving without another word. Before he stole my novel, Luke and I had only ever said around six words to each other. Through Lucy's complaints and my own observations, I could clearly see what a nuisance he was but never ever did my assumptions compare to the real life torture I had endured the past few days. If going to Brown wasn't important to me, I would have abandoned my novel a long time ago. Then again, I didn't like losing or giving up, especially to self righteous people like Luke. 

         I reach for branch after branch, slowly hopping and dragging, hopping and dragging, until I put about three inches of distance between the old age home and myself.

        It was a start.

✉✉✉

     By the time I plop down on my lawn, the sky has shifted from utter darkness to a mixture of peaches, purples and yellows. The sun has come up, and my mom is due to go into my room soon if she hasn't already. She'll want to check up on me. See if I'm okay. See if this proclamation of my parent's divorce, my father's adultery, has stirred up something in me.

        A quick glance at the Hemmings' driveway confirms my original inkling; Luke is home. His car is in the driveway. Which meant that he didn't get caught, he didn't get stuck somewhere. He left me hiding in the hedges simply because he was a grade a ass hole. 

        I don't bother trying to stand up again. My ankle has a ring of dark blue around it and trying to stand up on it again is a death sentence. Despite how ridiculous I might look, I tuck my injured leg into my chest and roll my way to the Hemmings house. Small pebbles have left indentations across my skin, but I could care less because all I am thinking about right now is how I want to scream as loud as I possibly can because my ankle fucking hurts more than anything. I can't climb up the tree to get back into my room, nor can I sneak in through the front door. But I certainly couldn't spend any more time lying around, so I settle for gathering some of the pebbles around me and throwing them up at Lucy's window. 

        "Shit." I hear just before the window flies open and out come's Luke's head. He's smiling nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hi, Kendall."

        "Don't fucking 'hi, Kendall' me, you piece of shit." I growl, throwing another pebble and aiming at his forehead. Unfortunately, he ducks and I miss my target. "Get Lucy. Why are you in her room?"

        "Because you were throwing rocks and making a lot of noise, and I'm already in enough trouble. Look, I can explain everything, I promise."

         "I don't care, just get Lucy." I say tiredly, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep. But I couldn't do that because if I did, my mother might kill me before I got the chance to wake up. My breath smelled intensely of alcohol, I had a mysterious broken ankle, and the dress I was wearing was ripped in all the wrong places. That would be seriously hard to explain.

         "I'm sorry, Cohen. I didn't mean-" He starts, forehead crinkling and guilt spreading along his features as he takes in the sight of my ankle. "Lucy isn't here. Do you want to go to the hospital?"

          "I can't afford that." I mumble, lying down and digging my fingers into the cool grass.

         "Okay, okay, I can help. Just stay right there." Luke says quickly, running away from the window and shutting off the lights in Lucy's room.

         "As if I can even fucking move," I sigh, rolling my eyes. God, he was such an idiot.

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