cool » l. hemmings

x.

⇉ michelle ⇇

I have made a decision to never, ever tell my mom anything, no matter how desperate I was. And I was pretty desperate.

"No, mom. It's not like in one of those weird books you've read where the tutor becomes the love of their life," I groaned, she laughed. My head fell on top of my arms, which were lying on the dining room table while I talked to my mom. She was cleaning dishes in the kitchen and listening to me tell her about how I'd finally listened to her and found myself someone to help me.

Now, this someone being a boy, had her jumping to the conclusion that Luke and I were like the movies, that I would be like the girl in her latest book she's been reading.

No thanks, mom. I don't want to repeat the word 'okay,' over and over.

I still can't believe she reads Teen Fiction. I don't even do that. I don't even read.

"I'm just saying, Michelle. And I'm glad you've found help with your schoolwork." These were rare occasions; where I could talk to my mom without having to put up a defense.

I didn't tell her about how Luke had a girlfriend. I couldn't tell her that it was Michael's ex, either. Because when I told her that I needed to help him with the break up and what had happened, she told me, "I told you he was bad news."

"So does this mean you won't take away my records?" my voice grew hopeful, lifting my head off of my arms.

I heard her laugh over the running water of the sink. "If he actually manages to help you."

So close.

The thought of Luke actually being in love with a cheater crossed my mind again. He's completely different than what his looks and habits give away. I'm not sure if that's a negative, a positive, or both.

He also has a lot of moods. Like back at his house, he went from being agitated by his mother to being sort of okay when we were in his room.

Or maybe I just have the power to make people's moods better. That would be pretty great.

"So do you like Luke?" The sink's water was turned off now, my mom drying her hands with a small, ripped up towel we keep in the kitchen.

"Don't ask me that question." This wasn't meant to be rude, I just didn't know the answer.

You know the pull you get for someone? Like there's a rope wrapped around your waist and that person is the one holding the end of it, pulling you toward inevitably having to get to know them.

That's me with Luke. I would consider us friends. Friends who were close. Friends who were close, that still didn't know some simple facts but still went over one of their houses every day and talked about irrelevant things.

I called him adorable a lot, didn't I? That was only because he was. He was adorably attractive, anyone who looked at him could say that much. I made comments to myself about him that I shouldn't, like that time I thought about how interesting his lips were. His laugh that could make probably hundreds of countries break out into fits of their own laughter from how contagious it is.

Before I knew it my mother's fingers were snapping in front of my face. "What were you thinking about?"

"Lasagna."

"You don't even like lasagna."

"So that means I can't think about it? This is discrimination. A total outrage."

She laughed at me, shaking her head along with it. "Alright, it's late. Go to bed."

† † † † † † †

i just realized tomorrow's saturday. I finally decided to save Luke's phone number when I realized that we weren't even starting the tutoring on an actual school day. I don't have any motivation on weekends. So just like every other day, but negative.

I counted the imperfections on my ceiling; the cracks, the random markings I'm not sure how I ever managed to make. I was at a grand total of thirty-two when I felt my phone vibrate on my stomach.

you're the one who asked, no take backs. I'm sure he's got much better things to do with his day. You know, doing what normal teenage boys do. Is he a normal teenage boy? He's got the lungs of a fifty year old, probably. Still a teenage boy. Just slowly killing himself, no big deal.

I feel like I should change his name from Luke to something else. Luke doesn't seem fitting enough in my phone for him. I'll figure it out later.

do i really have to do schoolwork with no school?

I'd like to at least start on a day that we did have one of those horrible lessons. It would be double the amount of effort, but it's better than having to put effort into a day that wasn't supposed to require any.

Still sat staring at my ceiling, I was beginning to feel my exhaustion from thinking make my eyes grow heavy. I kept counting the marks that I was earlier, losing count of how many I'd ended up with.

I have accomplished one thing, and one thing only, with staring at this slab of cement above my head. And that is realizing that we're a lot like the ceilings that make up our houses.

We've got loads of imperfections, probably some we don't even seem to care about until we pay close attention. Yet we're still able to hold ourselves, we're still stable. We're not crumbling to the ground in our own pile of dust and rubbish, even though

I don't know. I need sleep.

But hey, if this school thing doesn't work out, obviously I could become some philosopher or whatever.

Or an owl. Owls are wise.

My phone vibrated again, signifying a new message and making me jump.

i just want to make you grumpy.

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SHORTEST CHAPTER BUT IDK IF I WANT TO REWRITE THE LAST FEW CHAPTERS OR NOT MAN IM STRUGGLIN AND THIS IS A GIANT FILLER BC I AM TIRED AS HECKITY HECk