Rejects // Punk Luke Hemmings

>Chapter Thirty-Eight<

"So the town just burned to the ground?" It came out more as a statement than a question.

"Yeah," Luke replied. "But the subway system still remained. Which is what brings us here." From his voice I could tell he was smiling.

"There's a tradition we have here." Ashton spoke up from behind me. "And the tradition is that any student in their last two years of schooling should come down and spray paint something on the wall of the subway."

"The stairs end so be careful," Luke warned suddenly. Sure enough, after three more steps there were none left. I looked back the way we came and found the surface was far above.

"So we're gonna spray paint in the dark?" I asked, looking around. Even with the powerful flashlight, we were still surrounded by darkness that was practically tangible.

"Oh no," Malaya laughed. "Some bloke came down here a few years ago and did everyone a huge favor."

"And what was that?" I asked in utter confusion. She simply walked to the nearest wall and, with some help from the flashlight Michael held, found a small contraption.

"Whomever it was put some generators down here, and did this..." She plugged something into an outlet and suddenly light burst into existence. There were twinkle lights strung along the walls, illuminating the tracks. Every so often there was another generator that powered another string of lights. It was beautiful really, since some strings were simple white lights, and others were the multi-colored ones.

"Woah..." I breathed, feeling Luke's hand slide into mine. I leaned my head on his arm, as I stared at the walls and lights. Then the wall on the other side of the tracks caught my attention. This was what they were talking about. This was the kind of art I could look at for the rest of my life.

Names crowded the surface, letters in every color imaginable, all in different handwriting. Some were small and neat, others were big and messy, while still others were done like true graffiti, in large, blocky letters. In addition to the names, there was also artwork. Several people had made their mark by painting intricate designs, simple masterpieces, as well as quite a few crude, immature pieces, considering these were still teenagers who did all this.

The sight was pretty breathtaking.

"Isn't it amazing?" Luke mumbled into my hair, kissing my head softly.

"I don't even know what to say about it," I whispered as the others began to make their way to the left along the tracks. The path on the right was in light and intimidating looking, so we followed the glowing lights to the end of the paint.

"What do you think you'll paint?" He wrapped his arm around my shoulder as I now looked at an empty slab of concrete wall.

"I want to make a piece of art. I don't want to just have my name. That's too boring," I muttered.

"Sounds like a good idea. You should do something special. Something that'll mean a lot."

"Like a planet..." I whispered.

Luke chuckled beside me. "As long as I won't have to get it tattooed again, go for it,"he replied sarcastically, making me laugh. "Cal. You got the paint?" He called, his voice bouncing off the stone surrounding us.

The dark-haired boy nodded and set down the bag he'd been carrying. "Sure do!" He crouched down and pulled the zipper open, revealing probably thirty different spray paint cans, all in different colors. "Pick your color Kara," he offered and stood back up.

Making my way over, I smiled a bit and nodded. "Thanks," I said quietly and retrieved a black can as well as two rush Browns, tan, white, and a light brown. Returning to my spot, I popped the cap off the black and shook it very well.