Prompt: Absent

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Owen questioned his foster-son who was looking down at his feet which were scuffing the ground. "I'm waiting, Luke."

"Can't I just learn at home, Uncle? With Aunt Beru?" Luke plaintively replied, barely even glancing up at his uncle. Owen just sighed.

"You still haven't explained yourself, son. Why haven't you been in school the last few weeks? I shouldn't have to find out from your teacher that you've been absent, Luke. Why haven't you been in class?"

Owen was utterly at his wits end. Luke had always been a strange child to raise. When he had been really small, too young for him to remember it now, he'd had an imaginary friend he called his "sister." Beru had indulged him, of course, and thought it was sweet. Owen had rolled his eyes, and shaken his head a lot. He hadn't understood how you could talk to someone who wasn't there. How could anyone, even a two year old, insist someone was there who wasn't? Still, Beru's nieces, and nephews had gone through similar phases, even if they weren't so odd as Luke so apparently that was normal. Either way, a kid's phase didn't explain how Luke could answer questions you'd just begun to think, or how he would tell you he was sorry you were so sad when he had no business knowing what someone was thinking, or feeling with the uncanny insight that he did. It didn't explain how he knew when a storm was coming, or when he thought someone was lying. Luke always just seemed to know. There was no explanation for a child knowing like that. Luke also had very vivid dreams. Owen was fiercely glad that he at least had Beru to help him with this. Beru always seemed to know how to nurture Luke through all his, Owen hesitated to say insanity, which allowed Owen to try and teach Luke the more important things in life. One of these was how to keep your head in the present, to stay grounded in reality. The boy was far too much a dreamer. Sometimes, oftentimes, Owen just didn't know where Luke went.

These days that was literal. His teacher had come to visit them at the homestead today, and that was how he, and his wife, had found out that their nephew had just upped, and stopped going to school. She'd asked them if there were issues on the farm, or if Luke was sick? It had been beyond embarrassing to explain that they actually didn't know where their five year old boy was, and Owen was far past done finding out.

"I can do it!" Luke looked up determinedly. "I have been studying Uncle Owen. I take my datapads with me, and I study in one of the caves I found. I swear. You can test me, please, please, please—"

"Enough, Luke." Owen interrupted harshly. "I asked you a question and I expect an answer. I don't want to hear how smart you think you are, because if you'd really been smart you wouldn't be back-talking me like this."

Silence reigned: A stubborn, angry silence.

"If I don't get an answer, Luke, you won't see your starfighter toys for a month."

Luke looked up again seeming terrified. Why he was so fascinated with models of ships bemused Owen too. It was utterly useless, and such a flight of fancy, (pun quite intended, thank you), but if it got Luke to talk…

"They don't like me there." Luke said quietly, but with undeniable pain and sadness, as he backed up to sit on his bed.

"What do you mean they don't like you?"

"Promise you won't get mad." Luke gazed up at him wide-eyed. He seemed to be holding back tears. Owen tried not to show it, it wouldn't do for the trouble-maker to get any ideas, but it did soften him.

"I promise I won't get madder than I already am at you, Luke. Why don't they like you?"

"I dunno." Luke mumbled, and shrugged, refusing to look at him again. "Teacher introduced me to the class, and said my name was Luke Skywalker, and people started whispering. Then, after, when teacher was gone they said I must be real stupid, because only stupid people are slaves, and I told them I was freeborn, and proud of it, and that wasn't true, because Dad and Grandma were smart. That's how they got out. Right?" He looked up searching for approval. Owen nodded.

"Then this big boy comes up, forgot his name…" He looks up shiftily, and Owen was sure this was a lie, but elected not to press it. "He shoves me down, and says his father was killed trying to rescue Grandma, so obviously she was stupid, because she got caught by Tuskens, and I'd better not be stupid like that too, because I was slave-spawn, and I got mad and shoved back, but he was so much bigger, and everyone was watching, and no one cared he was doing it."

Owen moved to sit down next to his nephew. The bed frame creaked.

"This happen a lot?" he asked gruffly.

"Yeah," mumbled Luke. "Every day, really. Then this girl, Camie, started calling me Wormie, because she said I was like a sandworm who curls up when something scary happens, 'cause I'm a coward, and I stink, and now everyone calls me Wormie."

"I see."

"So, I just…stopped going. I mean, they don't want me there, and I can just learn by myself like I used to do with Aunt Beru. Couldn't I, Uncle Owen?"

Luke had turned his head, and was looking at his uncle with an impressively penetrating stare for a young boy. The depths of the blue revealing cornered desperation. Owen sighed again, and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not, Luke. You can't teach yourself everything and Beru can't teach you all of it either. You're smart, and that's why we agreed you'd go to school. It doesn't hurt to get to know some kids your own age, either."

"Yeah, it does!" Luke responded vehemently looking mutinous.

"Yes, maybe it does." Owen continued undaunted. "But, that's part of what you have to learn, Luke. People aren't always going to like you. People are going to be mean. You need to learn how to handle that."

"But…"

Owen held up a hand to forestall the many objections.

"You're grandmother was a very brave, and kind woman. People, and life kicked her down, but she kept standing back up. Sometimes you lose, Luke. Sometimes crops fail. Sometimes you get beat up, and you're definitely going to lose people you care about. That's just how it is. Life's harsh. Best you learn that quickly. Being really brave, and really strong is getting up again, and again, because that way even if they kick you down, they still don't win, because they can't keep you down. That's really what it means to be tough, Luke, and you're going to have to learn it sooner rather than later."

"I guess…I just…" Luke trailed off. "I dunno."

"Well, we'll just go to your teacher tomorrow, and talk to her about what happened and-"

"No!" Luke interrupted looking trapped. "Uncle Owen, you can't. They already call me Wormie, and think I'm weak. I don't want them to think I squealed too!"

"You ran away." Owen said tonelessly, but dryly.

"Did not." Luke muttered petulantly. "I just didn't want to study with them is all."

"Still, you have to. Listen to me, son. Look at me."

Luke did.

"You're the first freeborn Skywalker. That means that you're free to choose what you want to do, and what you don't want to do. No one owns you. Those boys and that girl can't tell you not to go to school, and they shouldn't be able to scare you away either. You're allowed to be there just as much as they are. If they want to pick fights they can, but you're going to stand your ground like man, and go right back, you hear me? You cower to no one."

Luke nodded.

"Good. Now, I get your point about your teacher, and clearly she doesn't seem to care about what the kids are doing to each other anyway, so I'll teach you a few pointers, okay? And we'll talk to your cousins about looking out for you at school. We can go tomorrow and then-"

"But, I don't want them to think I'm soft."

"You're not soft, Luke. You've been ganged up on, and this family sticks together. Your cousins are in an older class, but they can definitely help you out now that we know. That's what family does, Luke. You know you'd do the same for them. Family's all we've got on this rock. It's the most important thing. You hear me, Luke? You never turn your back on family."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. We'll sort this all out tomorrow then."

"Alright."

"And next time something happens, you come straight to your Aunt and I."

Luke nodded again, and Owen took a long firm look at his nephew who looked resigned to the decision, but not quite so desolate as before. Owen decided he'd made his point, and wrapped an arm around his boy.

"You're smart and you're talented, Luke. I might not get where you're coming from most the time, but I do know that. They'll say all what they want about you being stupid, and weak, but you're going to show them all up, and no one'll ever be able to believe a word they say, because you'll show them different. Don't let it keep you down, son: You just stand right back up."

Luke nodded his head frantically, and buried himself in his Uncle's rare embraces.

"I will. I promise."