Luke [chapter one] not edited

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{Age, seven}
{Grade, one}






Dear Ashton,

Remember when we were seven, and your mum brought you over to my house for a 'play date'? I had seen you around our grade one rooms, but you weren't in my class so we never really spoke. That was why I was so confused when my mum told me to open the door, and I saw you and your parents standing there.

My older brothers Ben and Jack were at a birthday party that day.

You were wearing your army print short sleeved shirt, pale blue jeans and the new sketchers that you were very proud of.

My mum and dad came up behind me and ushered the three of you in, smiles wide on their over joyed faces. My dad explained to me that our parents were old friends. They all went to the same highschool and lost contact.

Looks like they found it.

We were sent up to play around in my room for a couple hours until dinner would be served. I was actually really excited. I didn't have a lot of friends during that time in my life, and the friends I did have weren't allowed to come over. They had really protective parents. I was excited to think of you as a new friend, a new buddy. Someone I would be able to share secrets with and joke about stupid things too. I was young, and naïve.

While in my bedroom, I had basically skipped over to my toy chest that was at the foot of my twin bed, riffling through it, trying to find something to do that would be cool.

Giggling, I had pulled out two of my power rangers action figures. Blue and red. I have you the red one, since they blue was my favorite. I intended to keep it, it was my prized possession, being six.

You didn't like that.

"No! I want that one. Blue is better, so the better person has to have it. Me. Hand it over Luca."

You never did seem to get my name right. It was either Luca, Lucas, or some annoying name that you teased me with, to watch me squirm. I hated that, Ashton.

I respond with, "My name's not Luca, Ashton. It's Luke." Frowning. You had really hurt my tiny sensitive feelings, man. After another three hours of us calling eachother names that, at that age, were super offensive like butt head and meanie, my dad called up to us that dinner was ready to be served and eaten.

I got up quickly, as i was hungry, but you got up faster. You ran to the door, but I was faster. It turned into a race to see who could get to the dinner table the fastest.

At the very last step, you did something that I should have totally seen coming from a mile away. You pushed me. Hard. I went toppling into the small table to the side of the stairs that was holding up my mums favorite vase and knocked it over, the vase shattering into what seemed like millions of tiny pieces.

You being the tiny devil you were, decided to play it up a bit more when out parents came rushing out of the dinning room to investigate what happened. "Luca--Luke, he pushed me, mum! A-a-and, I knocked over the vase. Oh, Mrs and Mr. Hemmings, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean too!"

You even broke into tears. Tf how?

Anyways, long story short, I got into trouble (I'm sure you remember that. One of your crowning achievements, I suppose?) and you were consoled.

Dinner went on with me receiving glares from my side of the family and, worried glances from yours.

You just smirked.

You can't apologize, it makes no difference now,
Luke.

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