flipped :: lh [UNDER REVISION]

o6.like the 80s

“Mister Hemmings?”

Really that was all it took for Luke to raise his head cautiously; to quickly close the little worn journal that he held between rough fingertips. His lips tugging unnaturally, his eyebrows furrowing together despite himself, and his pencil dangling from between his teeth. He had no idea what was going on, and from the looks of it, neither did anyone else.

Rain had pelted mercilessly against the glass windows all morning. Early thunderstorms overcast and bleak, lightning occasionally lighting up the sky in quick sheer force. The rain acted as the only soothing matter, a sort of calm during the storm. Luke himself didn’t mind the rain, he loved how it made everything smell new. The only problem was that now he wanted nothing more than to write lyrics, to sit at home to watch a movie – be anywhere but school. Rain lulled him into a dreamlike haze if he was honest. And today was no different.

Tuesdays were usually relaxed for his English class, as Miss K. (her first name was ridiculously long, she insisted on the hyphenated version) would assign them to read and analyze a poem. Today she’d handed out “Hope” is a thing with feathers. First off Luke didn’t care to even read any of the twenty-something poems assigned each month – secondly he hadn’t even realized he was in a prime spot for receiving full attention from his teacher. He blamed it on the rain.

 “Um?”

There was the awkward pause and muffled scuffing of boots against newly waxed tile flooring. A few others had begun staring at him. Luke himself felt claustrophobic suddenly, despite the lack of that many people crowding the room. His face was heating up at an incredibly fast pace, and even the teacher herself was raising a brow at him.

“Luke, I’m asking if you can explain to the class the meaning behind the poem.” Miss K had stated, her voice clear and precise in each syllable.

He hated that she called on him, that she expected anyone to read the poem when there was the constant thrum of rain and thunder cracking in the distance. A few snaps of lightning illuminate the faces of those around him, making them seem all the more menacing. An electric blue glow softened out the edges in the room. There was the electric tension that filed in the breaks of the tile, filed into the hallow emptiness of Luke’s bones. Then the feeling of dread set in. Luke honestly hadn’t an iota what he was supposed to say.

Usually he would play off with a simple once-over look and not once has he needed to pay any more attention to the lesson than that of what they were learning. It just so happened today was his lucky day. Or lack-there-of.

“I don’t know.” He finally replied.

Miss K wasn’t as pleased with that answer. Her expression read it all, thick black eyebrows forcing down into a frown, her bright red lipstick pursing together into an unamused sigh. She looked fifty years older than she really was. Luke felt as though he’d suddenly lived through those fifty plus years within the span of thirty-three and a half seconds. A chill shot down his spine.

“Well you read it didn’t you?” She clenched her teeth, bright pink fingernails keeping time against the old wooden desk.

Luke was screwed now.

“Um no actually.” He responded, he couldn’t lie, she’d see right through him.

There was that silence that ensued, the pure look of distain and disappointment from not only Miss K, but his classmates as well. He didn’t know anyone really, so it didn’t matter all that much. Thunder rippled throughout the sky like a wave crashing against sand, and then there was a moment of empty rumbling before she spoke again.