Luke's POV

“Good morning, Luke!” my dad cheerily exclaims when I walk into the kitchen. I raise my eyebrows at his sudden cheeriness. I don't remember him like this. “Want some cereal? I have Lucky Charms. I remembered that they're your favorite.”

Lucky Charms were my favorite. Now I hate them. I hate almost everything I use to like. Lucky Charms are too happy and cheerful for me. Plus, they remind me of her.

“What are you eating?” I ask her.

“Marshmallows,” she says, tossing a pink heart into her mouth.

“Is that from my Lucky Charms?” I sit down beside her and grab one from the bowl.

“Obviously. They're the best kind of marshmallows.”

“Now what am I supposed to eat for breakfast?”

She shrugs and continues to eat.

I run my hand through my messy hair and sit down at the table. I cringe at the memories of Lucky Charms. My dad pours two bowls of cereal and brings them over to the table. He sits across from me and smiles.

“Did you sleep alright?” he asks.

I push the bowl of cereal away from me which causes some milk to splash out of the bowl. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but continues to munch on his cereal. I tap my fingers on the table and sigh.

I'm annoyed that my dad is trying so hard. He doesn't even know me anymore. He knows the happy, 14 year old Luke. Not the mute, depressed 17 year old Luke. It's like my past isn't even the same person as the present. Instead of trying to remember how I was, he should just forget all of that. I'm not the same Luke, and I never will be.

“Is there anything you want to do today?” my dad questions, breaking the silence. “Anything you want for you room?”

I shrug. I don't really want to go out with my dad, I'd rather do it alone.

He puts his spoon in his cereal and looks up at me.

“Well today I have baseball. I coach little league. You're welcome to come if you want. Maybe you could help out.”

I roll my eyes. I used to play baseball, up until two years ago actually. Universities were already wanting to accept me, but it just wasn't my thing. I always did it to make my dad happy, but once he moved, there was really no point. When I was younger, he would make me practice every single day. I had to be the best player possible, and I was. But I hated every aspect of baseball. Nothing was fun about it. It was just something to do. It was also another thing for my dad to boss me around with.

My dad and I never had a great relationship. He was always too obsessed with baseball and work. He was a coach and a manager for one of the biggest baseball teams in Australia. The only thing he ever talked to me about was baseball. Never asked me about my day, never took me out for ice cream. He only took me to baseball games. Baseball was never too popular where we were from, but for him it was. But then one day, he decided it was too much. He needed a break. That's when everything broke. The divorce, moving to Maine, and becoming distant. Most of it's a blur, mostly because I don't care.

Once I've had enough of my dad and his cheeriness, I get up from the table and start to walk back down the hall. My dad opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but closes it and purses his lips. Then he takes a deep breath and finally speaks.

“We'll leave for baseball in an hour.”

I don't remember giving any sort of indication of wanting to go. He can't just imply that I automatically want to do whatever he says. I'm certainly not going to a baseball field. That's the last place I want to be.

I stare at him with an emotionless glare, and he stares back. I don't stop until he looks away. Once he does, I turn sharply on my heel and head to my room.

I walk into my closet and slowly turn around, examining all my things. There's not much here, most of my things are still in Australia. I sigh and grab my beanie and place it over my messy hair.

When I walk out of my room, my dad is still at the table. His head is in his hands, and he's barely moving. I can hear him sigh and mutter, “My son hates me. My own son actually hates me.”

My dad is right for once. I do hate him.

I slam one of the doors so he's aware that I'm here. He jumps a little in his chair and looks up.

“Oh, you're back,” he says awkwardly.

I ignore him and go down the stairs two at a time, my feet clomping all the way down. I reach for the door knob just as my dad walks over to me.

“Luke, where are you going?” my dad asks as I'm about to walk out.

I shrug and open up the door, slipping out before he questions me. I honestly don't know where I'm going. I just want to be somewhere.

“But I thought we were going to the baseball field!” I hear him shout as I shut the door.

I start to walk down the driveway, but hear footsteps behind me.

“Luke! We need to talk,” I hear my dad yell. “Or, I need to talk. Whatever, you know what I mean.”

I turn around sharply and stop walking. I raise my eyebrows at him to wait for him to talk. He stays silent for a few seconds, both of us just staring at each other again.

“Come back inside.”

I cross my arms over my chest and turn quickly on my heel and continue to walk down the street. I'd rather be anywhere than in that house. I hate my dad, I hate this place, I hate everything.

“Luke! Please!” he begs.

I roll my eyes and continue walking.

“At least stop walking.”

I don't stop. I walk farther away from him and flip him off as kindly as I possibly can before turning down the street.

*

I wandered around town for a few hours. I mostly just walked down random streets, occasionally stopping to look at things. There's not much around here except for some shops and restaurants. Just a typical town.

I got home around 4 o'clock, but my dad wasn't home. Typical. He was never around and hasn't changed. And since I don't have any keys, I've been sitting on the front steps for over an hour. Life is just wonderful right now.

I pull a cigarette out of my pocket and light it, watching the tip spark before burning. I place it in between my lips and take a deep breath. I tilt my head back and let the smoke out of my lungs. I watch it swirl until it vanishes into the air.

I didn't start smoking until recently, and I don't do it too often. It's more something to keep my mind of things, just for a little. It allows me to focus on something else other than my sadness.

The neighborhood is quiet at this hour, only a few cars have driven by. I like the silence. I don't like the bitter cold though. I definitely wasn't prepared for this.

I place my chin on my hand and continue smoking. I can see the neighbor across the street in one of their rooms. It looks like a dining room. I can see a table with flowers in the middle and two people sitting at a table. They're laughing as if something wonderful happened. I wonder what it's like to be happy.

“Hey,” I hear someone call. I snap my head over to the voice to see a boy about my age walking towards me. “Are you Luke?”

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as he sits down beside me. How does he know who I am?

“I'm Ashton, nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, but I just stare at it. I take in a breath of smoke and puff it in his face. “Alrighty then,” he mumbles, coughing a little bit. He awkwardly places his hand in his lap and takes a deep breath over his shoulder to avoid my smoke. “So are you Luke? Or are you some random dude sitting outside this house?”

I get up and start to walk away, not wanting to interact with him.

“Hey, wait up!” Ashton calls, walking towards me. “I have a spare key!”

I turn around and raise an eyebrow at Ashton. He pulls a key out of his pocket and holds it between his fingers. I try to snatch it from him, but he pulls it away before I get to it.

He turns his head and eyes me suspiciously. “Are you Luke?”

I roll my eyes and nod, holding out my hand for the key. He obediently gives it to me, and I walk towards the door to get away from him.

“Dude, at least stop smoking. I can't breathe with that shit in the air,” he says following me.

I toss the cigarette on the sidewalk and squish it beneath my shoe. I was done with it anyways.

“I work for your dad. You know, helping out with baseball and stuff. I also live right down the street. He mentioned something about his son coming, so I'm guessing that's you. I never even knew he had a son until a few days ago.”

Great to know my dad never mentioned me. Thanks, Dad. Nice to know you care. Seems absolutely normal to never mention having a son. That's logical.

I fumble with the key, it doesn't seem to fit very well in the door. I shove the door with all my weight but it doesn't budge.

“The cold weather makes the doors hard to open. You're from, like, Texas or somewhere warm like that, right? Your dad has some sort of accent, so you must too. Here, let me open it,” Ashton says, opening the door with ease.

I feel the urge to slap Ashton to get him to stop talking. I already genuinely hate him. His goofy smile that seems extremely fake is getting on my nerves. I clench my teeth through my frustration.

“Hey, you alright? You don't talk much, do you?” Ashton continues to babble on about stupid things and follows me inside. God, I just want to be alone. No one seems to understand that.

He plops down on the couch, putting his feet on the coffee table. I continue standing, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed.

“So, Luke, how are you liking it here so far? Maine is pretty dull if you ask me. I want to move somewhere cool, like Australia, or something.”

I roll my eyes at his stupidity. First, he confuses an Australian accent with a country accent. Second, he thinks Australia is cool. Australia is most definitely not cool. It's where dreams go to die.

Maine seems to be where heat goes to turn into a bitter frost.

Ashton looks up at me, waiting for a response. I guess he hasn't found out I don't talk. Or he knows, but thinks I will.

He clears his throat and taps his fingers against the couch. He looks up at the ceiling, then down at the floor.

“Your dad told me you're amazing at baseball. You should join the team at school. They're pretty bad. I'm even worse. I'm just the water boy. But I don't care, I'm still part of the team, you know? Just getting to be on the field and everything. You could really help us out.”

My dad has always had this hope that I'd go back to baseball. But I never will. Not now, not ever.

I pull out my phone and type quickly. I press speak, and Ashton furrows his eyebrows when he hears the first.

“First things first,” it reads, “I don't talk. Ever. I haven't spoken for six months. Don't expect me to. Don't ask stupid questions because I won't answer them. You've asked more questions than my mind can handle. I feel like I've lost brain cells from your horrific grammar, you know?" Ashton bites his lip, realizing I'd just quoted him. "Secondly, I'm Australian. Australia is not cool, but you're welcome to move there. I don't like you, and I don't like Australia. It's a perfect match. Third, I will never play baseball. Don't try to make me think differently. I hate it. Lastly, please leave before I explode from frustration.”

Ashton looks down and cracks his knuckles. “I'm just trying to be friendly,” he mumbles, getting up from the couch. “I guess I'll be leaving then. Have a nice night, Luke. I'll see you around.”

He hangs his head as he walks out towards the door. Just as he's about to leave, my dad walks in.

“Hey, Ash!” he exclaims. He's more excited to see Ashton than he was to see his own son after two years. “I see you've met Luke!”

“Yeah, he was locked out. I brought him in. But I'm leaving. I'll see you later,” Ashton says quietly, walking out the door.

My dad places his bag on the bottom of the stairs and walks up to me.

“Ashton's nice, huh? He's a great guy.”

I shrug and walk past my dad and into my room. My dad seems to care more about Ashton than me. Not that I care. Why would I care? It's not like I actually like my dad. I don't like Ashton either. I don't care about either of them.

He didn't even apologize for locking me out. I sat outside for so long, and he doesn't even acknowledge it. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

All I care about right now is going to sleep. And that's what I decide to do. It's not like there's anything else to be doing. Even though it's only 7:30, I'm still on Australian time. My sleeping schedule is messed up completely.

After an endless few minutes of restlessly laying on my bed, I give up on getting comfortable. I'm too long for the tiny mattress. I go in the closet and get comfortable quickly.

I like the small open space of silence. It feels large and loud. I don't feel trapped in here like I do every where else.

I like being alone like this.

luke is colder than maine, jeez

I hope you're all liking this because I am

make sure you follow me on twitter, I need fronds @ singsongash