His name was Ely Donalsen, an unemployed, 53 year old, ex-Marine that was discharged from the force after he was discovered to be HIV positive. Whether or not he contracted it through questionable means, the Marines immediately took this as a violation of the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy and his life in the force had officially come to an end. Though he tried to appeal the decision, he soon realized that nothing would be the same and he simply gave up.
When he arrived back in Tree Hill, word had already traveled fast and rumors of his possible homosexuality leaked into the very heart of the town. No matter that the man did everything he could to protect this country during his time in the force, small-minded people could not look past mere possibilities and he became just another town pariah, lower than even Karen Roe who at least made something of herself after her scandalous relationship with Dan Scott. He tried to hold down jobs over the next few decades but his rage at the world and at himself prevented him from doing anything for very long, including making friends. What little family he did have in Tree Hill had moved away long ago: his sister along with her two children and his younger brother relocated to their respective states of California and Florida. His uncle had lost his fight against lung cancer while he was on the force, which made Ely feel even guiltier for not being there for the only father figure he ever had.
So, Ely made it a point to start a new project: the gradual deterioration of his own life. Still HIV positive, he refused any and all treatment and instead opted to drink heavily and smoke marijuana, provided by a source from out of town. He became the man that was always arrested for DUIs, the man that was always found in the town jail, sobering up, only to get out and start his day all over again with another bottle of Jack Daniels and a fat blunt in the corner of his mouth as he drove around in the same cherry red Ford truck that he lived out of.
Unemployed and desperate for money, one night Ely looked inside his glove compartment...and realized that his saving grace, his "last resort" bag of marijuana, was missing. In reality, he had simply misplaced the bag in the bed of his truck amidst the piles of clothes and personal belongings. Of course, an already doped up, drunken Ely knew the real reason for his missing drugs: the Scott boy. He had brought his truck in for an estimate, to which Keith and Lucas were glad to give for free. He noticed that the Scott boy was also looking inside his truck, on the passenger side. He made up an excuse that he wanted to make sure that the interior still looked good, too, but Ely knew better. He knew something was up with that kid. And now he knew for sure why his bag was gone.
So, Ely took a drive. A slow cruise, looking around at the people that were slowly retreating from their places of business, locking up for the evening and getting into their nice cars, driving to their nice houses, to their warm families...
"Oh..." Ely groaned quietly as he rubbed his eyes and then his temples, painfully aware of his aching migraine. He managed to refocus as much as he could on the road. Reaching for the silver volume knob on the radio, he turned up the twang of Garth Brooks' country music, tapping his hand along the steering wheel in a feeble attempt to stay alert. He looked over to the seat beside him: a gun sat comfortably, the barrel angled in a way to where it almost pointed to his feet. He had stolen that gun from one of those nice houses a few years ago, he couldn't remember exactly when. It was a brick house, with a nice looking lawn and a white garage door.
"Must be nice," Ely whispered as he cracked open a locked drawer with a crowbar and rummaged through various documents: car sales documents, monetary amounts, fiscal gains and losses, varsity basketball information. Ely threw all of this to the side and found something a bit more interesting: a black box without a lock. Ely opened the box and saw something he would never have expected to be in such a "nice house": a .32 caliber revolver with six bullets lined on either side of the gun, all set neatly amidst black foam material, shined to perfection. Ely didn't waist any time, closing the box and stuffing it under his bleach-stained black shirt, which he also used to wipe down places where his hands had been. With crowbar in hand, he exited the house through the back door, taking care to wipe away his prints from the doorknobs and ran to his car.
Shucking the box in the bed of his truck, he sped away before anyone was the wiser of his little escapade in the nice house. Later that day, he was questioned about his whereabouts just as any other ex-con was when the cops were notified of this recent break-in. Ely acted as expected, drunken as usual, saying he knew "nothin' at all".
Now that same revolver sat at his side, its reflective surface revealing the white light from the passing streetlights. All but one bullet had been used on the most random of things: soda cans, rats, and trash were some of the few things that served as amusement for the old man while he drove out of state to pick up his next bag of happiness. No, this bullet was going to put to good use, he thought as he tapped his hand furiously, trying to keep pace with the blaring country music. Then he saw it: the open garage door with that Scott boy standing there with his back to him, a water hose in hand, spraying down the concrete floor of the garage.
Ely had since turned down his music, unaware that he had parked alongside the curb. He didn't care. Looking at this boy sent a fit of rage into Ely, but he tried to calm down, gathering his nerves as he reached for the gun. Shifting sideways in his seat, he shoved the gun in the back pocket of his black jeans and cleared his throat.
"Now you're gonna tell me..." Ely whispered to himself and opened the door, got out of his truck, and shut the door quietly. He began to make his way toward the open garage door, unsure at first at what he was doing. For some reason he stopped, frightfully aware of what might happen if he went any further. But something told him to go on, and as the Scott boy looked up at Ely and gave him a smile, Ely darted his eyes around trying to avoid his face.
"I'm sorry, sir," the Scott boy said politely, "But we're closed for the evening. If you come back tomorrow Keith will be able to check you out."
Ely focused his eyes onto the boy after allowing them to roam across his surroundings. He only wanted to talk to the boy. Make him understand. And if things got bad, well...the boy could always go back to that nice house of his. That would make it all better.
* * *
Midnight. The sounds of people talking and exclaiming with fear in their voices had suddenly shaken the city awake. The source: Keith's garage off of 4th and Main. People had heard from others that there was a shooting. Some claimed they had heard the shot. Still others swear that they saw the shooter flee the scene, describing him as a crazed white man holding a gun in one hand, a wad of cash in the other, and an expression of evil plastered on his face. Others claimed he was short, black and wore a bright blue trench coat and it wasn't a gun but a knife that he was holding.
Only Keith Scott, the only man that was there knew the truth and he was virtually inaccessible to anyone save for a single cop that stood before him, trying desperately to take the shock-ridden man's statement.
"Why didn't you save him?" some simple-minded fool of a woman cried from the crowd, "He was your nephew! Why didn't you do something!?"
Keith only sobbed at this, burying his face in his open hands, dreading what he would have to tell Karen. That is, if she did not already know what occurred.
"Everyone please! Back off!" an officer yelled, "This is a crime scene! I need everyone to just back off!"
And so the people did, standing back as officers ushered them away. The crowd was still restless, looking for something to see now that the body had been taken away. They were almost like vultures over a carcass, searching for the last ounce of blood that had made its initial journey from Lucas Scott's gunshot wound onto the cold, concrete floor of the garage. They sought something that would make them swoon, make them grimace in disgust, something that they could have in their memory to sensationalize to someone, anyone that would listen that night and the next day so they could seem important. Since they didn't see the crime, they might as well get a good look at the scene of commotion.
"Keith," a man's voice said in a soothing manner, "I need you to tell me what happened. Please."
Keith looked up from his hands at the officer, who had crouched beside him to get eye contact with him. Keith had not budged from the place where his nephew had died, suffering from an impossible amount of shock and grief that prevented him from lifting himself up to ride with Lucas on the way to the hospital. No. Instead Keith sat there, face wet with tears and his nephew's blood staining his hands, beside Lucas' place of death, a horrifically massive spot of crimson marking the spot. Keith had never fathomed that someone could have so much blood. Even as the paramedics lifted Lucas' body, he saw his nephew's shirt: most of the back stained and dripping with the dark fluid that Keith had suddenly become so acquainted with. And he watched helplessly as they lifted his body onto a stretcher and groaned deeply as he saw Lucas' left arm fall lifelessly over the side of the stretcher, hanging there as the paramedics wheeled him away.
"Lucas..." Keith whispered anxiously and scrambled to get up from the floor but a cop held him down, realizing that Keith was in no condition to do anything at the moment. And so Keith struggled, watching as the paramedics lifted Lucas up into the air and then immediately shoved his body into the ambulance. After loading him securely, one of the paramedics hopped in while another closed both doors and beat harshly on the back of the van, signaling for the driver to take off.
And it did, the sirens ring piercing Keith's ears as he watched the ambulance drive away with his nephew in tow as they tried, in vain, to revive him. He knew there was no more hope. Once he saw Lucas draw his final breath, something deep within told him everything he needed to know. His heart ached as he watched the ambulance disappear, although he could still hear the sirens wail even after the vehicle had fallen out of sight.
"Keith, please," the same officer pleaded yet still calm, still soothing, "You need to tell me what you know."
Keith looked up at the officer, his eyes red and bloodshot, wet from an overflow of tears. The officer himself also seemed to express much emotion not only for Keith but also for the young man that had died. "Keith...let me nail this sick bastard for you," the officer said in a lower tone, "Just tell me what you saw."
Keith turned his head away from the man slowly, looking toward the crowd of people that was now slowly dissipating into the night, getting enough information for the stories that they would tell to whomever chose to listen. Keith sniffled and said with a quavering voice, "I-I have to tell K-Karen. A-after this, I h-have to t-tell Karen."
"I know," the officer said and quickly whipped out a pen and paper in anticipation of Keith's account, "Just go ahead. Take your time."
Keith sniffled again, sobbing quietly as he closed his eyes, fresh tears running down his face. He knew what he had to do.
* * *
With golden curls falling over her face, Peyton sighed as she angled the pencil in her hands to sketch a firm, dark line across the sheet of paper. Drawing a hand through her hair, she kicked up her leg as she made the connection from one line to another, completing the face of a young man that held a passing resemblance to one Lucas Scott. She placed the pencil down on her bed and took the drawing in her hands, studying the picture before finally getting up and walking over to her desk. Placing her sketchbook down on the desktop with the picture on top of the book, she sat in the chair and looked into the camera that broadcast her image over the net for anyone to see. She wondered if Lucas was watching or if the young man was even thinking about her. Pouting her lip, she fiddled with a pencil on her desk until her phone rang. She picked it up and answered, "Hello?"
"Hey," a familiar female voice replied.
"What's up?" Peyton asked as she shifted in her chair. Although she was glad to hear from Brooke, she had secretly hoped that Lucas was on the other end.
" 'What's up'? Is that all you can ask me," Brooke Davis asked, "What about 'How are you feeling, Brooke? Do you need anything, Brooke?' Show some compassion for your sick friend."
"Okay," Peyton said, "Why weren't you in school today, Brooke? Decided to make playing hooky popular again?"
"Hey, I really was sick...for an hour," Brooke replied and chuckled.
Peyton couldn't help but chuckle along with her best friend as well. As much as she longed to speak to Lucas again Brooke was a welcome distraction from her problems with him. "So what did you do today?" Peyton asked, "Daddy take you on a shopping spree?"
"His credit card did," Brooke replied slyly, "And girl did I shop today! Whoo! It was well worth a week's punishment. Mom even convinced him that I should keep everything, too."
"You're such a spoiled brat," Peyton said as she shook her head, smiling at her best friend's utter gall, "Only you could get away with something like that with only a week's punishment."
"Hey! I say that being grounded for a week is more than enough punishment for a girl like me. It's almost unfair," Brooke protested, "But I guess they've gotta make boundaries somewhere, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Peyton said. There was a moment of silence between the two of them, something that was becoming more and more common in their phone conversations.
"So talk to me, girlfriend," Brooke said suddenly, "How's it going with you and that hot piece of blue collar material?"
Peyton sighed, not really wanting to talk about matters of Lucas with someone who was almost his girlfriend, even if she was her best friend first. But she decided that she was better than nothing else. "Well, it's going," Peyton replied, "But I've got this feeling that we're about to hit a dead end."
"What? Girl, please. You and Luke are heating up!" Brooke exclaimed, "There is absolutely no way the both of you aren't getting together. He's available, you're most definitely available, and there's nothing holding the both of you back."
"No excess baggage?" Peyton asked as she clicked on her mouse to bring up her web browser.
"That's right," Brooke answered, "None at all...or is there?"
Peyton was quiet as she rolled the mouse and clicked a few buttons on the screen with the arrow pointer.
"Peyton, I asked you a question," Brooke said firmly, "What's the deal?"
"And why do you want to really know, Brooke," Peyton snapped, "Are you gonna swoop in for the kill if I say anything that shows I have doubts?"
"What?" Brooke protested, "What the hell, Peyton?"
"Oh, come on, Brooke! Don't act all innocent. You did it once and you'll do it again! We both know you will!" Peyton accused harshly.
"Listen to what you're saying, Peyton," Brooke replied heatedly, "Do you realize that what's coming out of your mouth is complete and total garbage? What did I tell you I would do when you told me you were going to start seriously pursuing Luke?"
"That you would back off," Peyton said, "But..."
"But nothing," Brooke interrupted sharply, "Now I don't know who you think I am but when I say I'll back off, I'm being honest. Don't start confusing me with that asshole of an ex Nathan. I actually keep my promises."
Peyton sighed deeply, running her hand through her hair. "God! What the hell is wrong with me today? I'm just feeling so insecure," Peyton said, "I feel so...so..."
"Lost?" Brooke suggested.
Silence reigned over the phone.
"Yeah...how did you know?" Peyton asked as she sat back in her chair, her hand away from the mouse.
"Because you've been acting like you are. You seem to not know where you want to go or what you want to do. And... I admire you for that," Brooke stated, "At least you have the balls to admit it. I on the other hand..."
"Brooke..." Peyton started but was stopped by Brooke's voice.
"Peyton, please. I'm so clueless as to what I want in life it's scary sometimes. Now I say sometimes because at least I have friends like you to show me that life's not so...scary. If that makes any sense."
"Not really," Peyton said and chuckled, "But I think I get your point."
"Peyton...if you're afraid or if you ever need to talk, please...talk to me. I'm not just some ditsy cheerleader, you know?" Brooke remarked.
"I know that and I don't think of you that way," Peyton said. After a moment Peyton said in a tiny voice, "Still friends?"
"Of course!" Brooke said and giggled over the phone. "So, let's change subjects. I want to talk about what you plan on doing this winter break."
"Well," Peyton said, "I don't know really. I haven't thought about it much. My dad and I usually go to Tennesse to visit family but he's not really up to it this year and neither am I, so..." Peyton trailed off.
"Well," Brooked began, "I'm thinking of going with my parents to Hawaii! How does that sound?"
"Sounds great!" Peyton beamed with genuine excitement as she sat up in her chair, "Oh my God, how did your parents score such a kick-ass trip?"
"Well, remember when I told you daddy got a raise at his job? Well, he was able to save up enough money to buy plane tickets and make reservations, all for a trip to Hawaii!"
"That's great, Brooke!" Peyton exclaimed.
"But this is where it gets good," Brooke said in a lower tone, "Daddy still had money left over and he was able to buy another plane ticket and make one more reservation, as per my bugging him about it."
"You didn't..." Peyton exclaimed, actually rising from her chair, her mouth wide open in anticipation of what she thought she was going to hear next.
"Yes! If you want, you can come along!" Brooke exclaimed.
"Oh my God, Brooke!" Peyton exclaimed, "Oh, thank you so much! You're the best!"
"Yeah, I know," Brooke joked while laughing, "But yeah, that's also why I was out of school today. I didn't want to risk telling you until the time was just right. Do you think your dad will be cool with it?"
"I'm sure he will," Peyton said and sighed giddily. Sitting back down she chuckled again. "Gosh...I really needed that. You weren't just saying all that to get me happy, were you?"
"I'm dead serious," Brooke said, "Cross my heart!"
"Thank you so much," Peyton said with a calmer and even more heartfelt tone. Peyton felt deep down that she truly needed this vacation.
"No problem, girl. You've done so much for me and I think it's about time I repay the favor," Brooke replied. "But I gotta get going. We've got a long day tomorrow. You're picking me up in the morning, right?"
"Yeah," Peyton said with another short chuckle in her voice, "Sleep well, Brooke. And thanks again!"
"Stop, you're killing me!" Brooke said in jest, "Bye!"
"Bye!" Peyton said and replaced the receiver on the phone. Sighing, Peyton looked into the camera with a smile, not believing what had just went down and how good her best friend truly was. For that one moment her problems were lifted from her soul. Even as she stared at the vaguely recognizable drawing of Lucas the young woman could only smile, remembering only the good in her relationship with the young man.
But something made her lose her smile almost instantly: the sound of an ambulance siren in the far distance. If she was doing anything else she may have not noticed it but there it was, faint from behind her window. She turned to look at the window but could not see anything as was to be expected considering that paramedics never made it a habit to drive through neighborhoods. As Peyton got up however, her hip grazed against the drawing of Lucas, causing the drawing to fall to the floor. She turned to look at the drawing lying on the floor, covered in the shadows that the light from her small lamp could not reach.
The faint sound of the ambulance siren soon faded into the night.
* * *
The blue and white police vehicle parked into the driveway at about two thirty A.M., with an emotionally drained Keith sitting in the front of the vehicle. The man stared out of the windshield, his face racked with pain, cheeks still wet from recent tears. The officer that had escorted him home put the vehicle in park and turned to face the man that had lost his nephew. "Keith..."
"Wait!" Keith yelled then turned to face the officer, gasping before taking in a trembling breath and said, "I'm sorry, just...can we wait here a moment? Please."
The officer nodded but added, "I'll wait but...the boy's mother can't wait forever. She's gotta know."
Keith nodded slowly, still staring at the officer with teary eyes as his head bobbed up and down. With his head still nodding, he turned and faced the passenger side window, looking out at the quaint little house of Karen Roe. A dim light could be seen and he could see what appeared to be the silhouette of Karen in the living room.
"She's waiting, Keith," the officer said, snapping the man out of his daze, "If you can't do it, I'll..."
"I'll do it!!" Keith yelled darting his head back toward the officer who was slightly fazed by Keith's sudden explosion of anger. The officer could see new tears streaming down his face as they bored back into his. Keith shook his head and repeated in a subdued tone, "...I'll do it."
* * *
Karen Roe was pacing. Pacing across her living floor in her nightgown, her arms crossed across her chest. Her face was filled with worry, her eyes fearful. She didn't know where neither her son nor Keith were. She had last talked to Keith at about nine-fifty at night.
"The place was packed today so we're gonna be awhile. We should be in by ten-thirty, eleven at the very latest," Keith had said to her over the phone when he called her at the diner.
Karen, though busy closing her own business for the night, still played the role of a concerned if not overprotective parent by replying, "Are you sure, Keith? Lucas needs his rest."
"I promise, Kare," Keith assured her.
"All right. You two have fun," Karen had said and that was the last she had heard of either one of them.
It was now two forty-five and Karen was beyond pissed: she was now officially worried and scared. What had happened to them? Were they all right? Were they hurt? Or did she hear wrong and Keith really said a later time which got Karen's blood bubbling at the very thought of Keith keeping her son out so late on a school night.
But when she heard the door open from the kitchen she ran to find Keith shuffling into the darkness. Karen stopped in the doorway connecting the kitchen to the living room. "Well, thank God!" Karen exclaimed although with an angry tone in her voice, "I was thinking all sorts of things while you and my son were out on the town! What the hell were you two thinking!? Lucas has school and you're supposed to be setting an example, Keith!"
But Keith said nothing and Karen noticed the man was in a rather subdued state. "Keith, have you been drinking?" asked in a lower tone, although her temper was gradually reaching new levels.
"...N-no," Keith's voice managed to produce through trembles.
Karen reached for the light switch mounted into the wall on her right and flipped it on... and gasped to find Keith standing at the door, his face pale and wet, his eyes tired and red, his posture broken and defeated. But what she noticed more than anything else was the red that stained his undershirt and his jeans, stained his hands and arms, stained even his cheeks.
"My God, Keith!" Karen cried and ran toward the man, "Is this blood!? What happened!? Are you all right!?"
Keith looked into Karen's pleading eyes, his own eyes trying desperately to search for a way to tell her without him actually having to verbalize anything. His lips were pressed flat against one another in a brave attempt to stifle a sob.
Karen suddenly realized that everything was not right with this picture. He had no wounds on his body despite blood-soaked clothing and yet he stood here with a look of pain and grief in his eyes as if he had been killed over and over again. "Where's Lucas?" Karen whispered.
Keith could no longer contain his sob and let it out, startling Karen as she watched the man's eyes close tight as tears flowed. He embraced Karen into a gentle hug, his body wracking with sobs as he tried in vain to compose himself. "I-I'm s-sorry, Karen..." Keith whispered, "I really am."
"No," Karen said as she pushed away from Keith, "Y-you didn't answer me," she said, her words suddenly being halted by some unknown force, "T-tell..." she stopped for a moment to regain her composure, turning her head to look down at the floor, her eyes closed, her lips clamped shut. She returned her attention to the man in front of her, "Tell me what h-happened...to my son."
"God..." Keith said as he shook his head, his arms outstretched as if trying to welcome her back into his embrace but she held her ground. His arms dropped helplessly and he groaned, running a hand roughly through his brown hair. "He's dead, Kare," he said finally, "He's dead."
Karen's eyes suddenly opened wide as she began to hyperventilate, her mouth dropping open as she tried desperately to take in air. Her head shaking she began to feel her knees go weak, turning into jelly, until she grabbed hold of the nearby countertop to keep from falling. "Dea...?" she asked in a gasping voice that was disbelieving, almost pleading to him. A tear streamed from her left eye and she quickly wiped it away with her hand. "N-no, no! I-I saw him earlier today! I spoke to him! I gave him those s-sandwiches!! H-he can't possibly..."
Keith quickly came to Karen's side, holding her with his strong, hard hands to make sure she would not collapse. "Honey, I know," Keith said, anguish clearly in his voice as he nodded his head, "I know. But he's gone now."
"No!" Karen screamed angrily, her eyes squinting as they overflowed with tears, "No! No! No!!" Karen struggled to get away from Keith's firm grip on her, "Please don't say that!! It's not true! It's..."
"Karen!" Keith yelled, pleading and anger and sorrow all mixed in his voice, "Karen, please!! He's gone! He died tonight...he..." but Keith could say no more as his hands limply fell from Karen's wrists and went to his face as he sobbed, turning his back on the woman as he leaned against the refrigerator.
Karen's eyes were darting across the room, searching for some answer to all of what was being said. Was it a dream? Was it a nightmare? It had to be something that she could just wake up from and everything would be fine. She looked for a prompt, a person, a thing, ANYTHING that could tell her this world was not real and that she was only imaging this.
But nothing happened.
And Karen suddenly heard a noise escape from somewhere. It was a deep sound, a groan, although it sounded much more painful. Soon, she realized that the sound was coming from her as she felt her lungs gasp which produced the sound again. She covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise. To keep that disgusting sound from being audible again. But it kept coming: sob after sob escaping her body, racking her to the floor as she fell to her knees, her tears rolling down her pale cheeks, her dark hair around her face, covering her expression of sorrow as it matted against her ever dampening cheeks.
"Why!?" she wailed between sobs, "Why!? Why!?"
Keith lifted his head from the refrigerator, seeing Karen on the floor. He managed to walk toward the fallen woman, watching as she cried, falling into long silent sobs before gasping for air to emit another pained cry of anguish, holding her hand against her mouth. Keith fell next to her and embraced her gently once again.
Karen returned the embrace, hugging him tightly as she buried her face into Keith's strong chest, her sobs still wracking her body as she tried desperately to take in air.
"Just let it all out," Keith whispered as he flattened her hair on her head, a strength and solidity in his voice that he thought he would never have at this moment. "You just let it all out," he encouraged soothingly.
They sat on the floor, crying in each other's arms until finally Karen fell into a fitful sleep, exhausted by her emotional roller coaster. Keith then carefully picked her up and carried her off to bed, making sure to tuck her in as best he could before he sat in a chair next to her, staring at her pained expression, watching as tears continued to flow down her cheeks, her sleep talk consisting of her son's name faintly being called again and again with anguish and sorrow.
And he watched her. Watched her fall into that restless sleep until he finally found a way to go to sleep as well.
* * *
Morning. The sun's light once again shined above the tops of the buildings, illuminating the dew dropped grass with warm rays. The light illuminated the streets, including 4th and Main where so much anguish had occurred only hours earlier. The light washed over the nice houses of Tree Hill, including Karen Roe's home though there was no sign of activity within its walls. The light came to the playground, stretching across the empty basketball court and covering the goal where Lucas Scott practiced diligently only yesterday.
Now, however, that goal was unoccupied. Lucas Scott was not practicing his game nor would he ever do so again. The goal, however, stood erect and waited, patient for the familiar rumble of the young man's truck and the telltale "beat, beat, beat" of a dribbling basketball as Lucas ran up to the goal and started off his morning with a simple finger roll, sliding gracefully into the net.
Instead, the sun passed over the goal and moved on, leaving the goal alone on the playground.
* * *
"...and so I told him like, 'I would never sleep with you! You're not even rich!" Brooke exclaimed and laughed out loud, her eyes closed as she did.
Peyton scoffed, smiling in spite of herself at her best friend's lame remark, "You're so wrong," Peyton groaned.
"Oh, I'm just joking," Brooke said as she passed a hand through her hair, "Besides, he and I are cool like that. He knows I would sleep with him any time." Brooke smiled lustfully, emitting a disgusted groan from Peyton.
"God! It's too early, Brooke," Peyton said while laughing, "You're such a nymph!" Shaking her head, her blonde locks shook gracefully across her face.
"Oh, like you didn't know," Brooke protested with a bit of melodrama, placing her hand across her forehead, feigning light-headedness.
"So," Peyton began, "Did you hear that siren last night?"
Brooke sighed, still smiling and asked lightly, "What siren?"
"I thought I heard an ambulance siren going off last night after we hung up," Peyton explained looking a bit more serious as she focused on the road ahead, "It was kind of freaky."
"An siren? Freaky?" Brooke asked, shaking her head, "Girl, you're a mess, you know that? And no, I didn't hear anything last night. My music was on."
"Oh," Peyton said. She looked over at Brooke for a moment before returning her gaze to the road. Tree Hill High School was beginning to appear over the horizon.
"What's up, Peyton?" Brooke asked as she looked out at the road ahead as well. She finally turned her head to at her friend, "Why would you ask that? Is it...your mom?"
Peyton sighed, her grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly, causing her knuckles to go white. "Sirens just...they're just not heard around here a lot, you know? I was wondering that maybe something was wrong."
"Well, duh," Brooke replied as she turned her attention to her nails, making sure her new coat of paint was still intact, "Someone was obviously hurt, Peyton. Why else would an ambulance be out at night?"
"You know what I mean. I..." Peyton trailed off, blowing air out of her nose, "You know what? It's nothing. I'm just being paranoid." Peyton took in some air and exhaled with an audible sigh. "Look, we're almost here," Peyton said with dry elation.
"Yeah, isn't it great?" Brooke said with mock excitement and forced a giddy "Valley Girl" laugh.
Peyton chuckled at her friend's utter goofiness and sighed. Still, the feeling of dread that she had been experiencing all morning just wouldn't go away. And soon she would know exactly why.
* * *
The light rumble of the SUV was silenced as Nathan turned the ignition to the off position and sat back. Looking over to the passenger side he scanned Haley sitting in her seat, looking straight ahead. Her face was expressionless, her mouth slightly gaped as she stared out at the passing kids, her shallow breath the only sound escaping her lips.
Nathan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly.
Haley turned her head to face Nathan's worried expression. "I-I was just thinking about Lucas," she responded.
"What about him?" Nathan said crossly. He did not want to be reminded of his half brother at the moment.
"Nathan...I said some pretty harsh things to him the other day," she said as she turned to better face her boyfriend, "I mean, I agree totally that he was out of line, but I was pretty mean and..."
"No, you weren't," Nathan said stopping her before she went any further, "You said what you felt and that's all there is to it. The kid was being a jerk and you gave him a piece of your mind, simple as that."
"But..." Haley started but she felt Nathan's warm finger press against her lips.
"Hey. If Lucas wants to be an asshole to me that's fine, I can take it. But when he's being an asshole to you, well..." Nathan scoffed, shaking his head, "That's just crossing the line. You know, he's got a lot of nerve thinking you can't make your own damn decisions."
"He's just looking out for me, Nate," Haley replied, "He was only doing what he thought was right."
"And that's the thing: what HE thinks," Nathan retorted, "He thinks his word is gold and everyone else's is shit. That's what I really get tired about with him sometimes, Hales." Nathan shook his head, "But I said I'm going to get along with him. Even if it means I have to keep from beating his ass if he doesn't apologize to you today."
Haley smiled at this comment. Though his chivalry came with crude language it was chivalry nonetheless and made the young woman feel special. "Thank you," she said and leaned in to kiss Nathan lightly across the lips.
When Haley sat back in her chair Nathan was smiling, his frown transforming into raised eyebrows, wide eyes, and a goofy grin. "I should be thanking you right now," he said.
Haley giggled and hit him playfully across the arm. "Let's go, doofus," she joked and unfastened her seatbelt and opened the car door, gathering her backpack from her lap and slinging it over her arms.
"Yes, ma'am," Nathan replied and smiled as he pulled the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car to join Haley by her side. They walked together talking, joking around, disregarding anyone else that was around them.
As they stepped into the hallway, Haley was looking around for Lucas, wondering if he was present. She was in the mood for an apology today and she just knew that she was going to get one.
"Anticipating for Luke to give you that apology you deserve?" Nathan asked as he made a chuckle.
"You're right on, bub," Haley said with a smile. Curiously, she could not find the young man's tall frame moving amidst the mass of students making their way to their first period classes. Haley frowned for a moment then figured that he might just be running late again since he was probably out at the playground practicing.
"Ah, forget him," Nathan said, "You'll see him later. Come on, let's get to class."
Haley scanned the area on more time for Lucas before finally nodding and saying slowly, "Okay." Looking up at Nathan she smiled and took his hand in hers. "Let's go."
Nathan smiled and squeezed her hand gently as the couple made their way toward the end of the hall.
"Poor, misguided girl," Brooke sighed as she closed her locker, watching from afar as she saw Haley and Nathan walk toward the end of the hall, "Doesn't she know that that's the wrong Scott brother? She must be on something."
Peyton lifted her head from her locker and watched as the couple turned the corner of the hallway. She smiled slightly at the sight of them but then responded accordingly, "Yeah, I know. Everyone knows Nathan Scott is a dick."
Brooke chuckled then looked around some more. "Hey, I don't see your blue collar man anywhere," she mused, "Wonder where he is?"
"Probably out practicing," Peyton replied as she lifted her head from her locker for good with a grouping of books in her arms. She closed the locker door with her hip. "He said he was making it a habit these days. 'I want to be able to wipe the floor with Nathan'," Peyton imitated Lucas' voice in a poor yet humorous manner. "I swear. The testosterone levels between them are enough to drown a girl in."
"Yeah, I hear 'ya," Brooke replied, "And that's definitely a good thing."
"Oh, shut up!" Peyton exclaimed wearily and playfully shoved Brooke.
Brooke only smiled as she looked at her friend who returned to a more subdued, thoughtful state. "You really care about him, don't you?" she asked suddenly.
"Who? Luke?" Peyton said as she turned to face Brooke again, a curly blonde lock falling over her face, "You know how I feel, Brooke."
"Yeah, but...can you just tell me. For my sake?" Brooke said with more seriousness in her voice than she had all morning.
"Why?" Peyton asked, "You know my feelings. I tell you everything."
"Well then, just humor me, okay?" Brooke said as she looked at Peyton, "I guess I need to know these things...I need to know that I can find love like what you and Luke have...someday."
"Brooke, we're not that serious," Peyton replied, "We've been talking, but..."
"Peyton!" Brooke exclaimed.
"All right! All right! I..." Peyton trailed off still looking at Brooke, "I guess I like him. No...I think I'm kind of sort of..." trailing off again she finally said in one fell swoop, "...falling in love with him."
Brooke gasped, stopped by this turn of events, her eyes wide with surprise, her mouth open in pure joy. "I knew it! I knew it!" Brooke exclaimed, "I had my doubts but I knew you did!"
"What...?" Peyton asked but then she immediately realized that she had been totally fooled. "Oh my God, Brooke!" Peyton exclaimed.
"I knew it! I knew that if I just give you that old spiel you'd spill everything!" Brooke exclaimed.
"You better not go telling everyone about this!" the blonde exclaimed in a low tone, "I'm not even sure if this is real or not."
"Okay, okay," Brooke said, sighing after her initial fit of excitement, "I just had to find out one way or another! You tell me everything that goes on up here," Brooke said as she pointed to Peyton's head, "But you hardly ever tell me what's going on in here," she finished as she laid a hand over Peyton's heart.
Peyton smiled, chuckling at her friend's craftiness. "You're slick, you know that?" Peyton said as the two began to walk to their class together.
"I know," Brooke replied with sass, "I was made that way."
Peyton's laughter echoed as the two girls turned left at the end of the hallway.
* * *
As students in all classes began to sit down and become quiet as their respective teachers waited at the front of the room, each teacher had some form of knowing looks on their faces. An expression of expectance of something that they knew was bound to happen within the next few moments.
Suddenly, a long tone sounded from the intercom and the deep voice of the principal cleared his throat and began in a solemn voice:
"Good morning, students and teachers. I hope that all of you had a safe journey on your way here to school and I hope that you all are sitting down. What I am about to say may shock many of you who have probably not heard the news."
Haley looked away from Nathan as she turned her ear to hear the intercom, wondering what the principal was going to say. Her smile had faded slightly.
Nathan's smile faded when he saw Haley's disappear, wondering why she was taking the words of such a blowhard like the principal so seriously. But something inside told him to listen as well.
Peyton and Brooke stood outside of their classroom, stopped by the teacher that signaled for them to wait at the door until the principal finished what he had to say. Brooke was fuming because she wanted to sit down; Peyton frowned but it was for different reasons. She wanted to know what the man had to say. Would it be about the siren she heard?
"At about ten thirty yesterday evening, Lucas Scott was shot and later died from shock while he was closing down shop at his uncle's garage."
Students across the school began to murmur words of shock to one another.
"As many of you probably know, Lucas played on this school's varsity basketball team with some of our top players. He had extraordinary talent, not just on the court but also in class where he excelled in academics, especially literature."
"Oh my god," a young girl whispered to another classmate sitting beside her, "...that's so awful..."
"I can only hope that those of you who knew Lucas best will be able to, in time, cope with such a devastating loss. If any of you feel that you need help dealing with this, the guidance counselor, your teachers, coaches, even me... we are all here to help you get through this rough time. Now...I would like to have a moment of silence for Lucas Scott."
Haley's breath was shallow, making short gasps as she looked at the intercom. She turned to face Nathan whose mouth was slightly gaping, his eyes, and his entire face in a confused expression looking back at her. "N-Nathan...?" she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.
"Hales..." Nathan started but he didn't know what to say to her. She looked at him with pleading eyes, looking for some type of answer from him. But he could not give one for he was shocked by the news himself, his mind going blank as he tried to grasp the concept; as he tried, in vain, to pair the name "Lucas" with the word "death". Hell, he could not get past the death without his heart racing.
"Thank you and I hope, under the circumstances, all of you will try to have a good day," the principal said with a sigh and the intercom buzzed off.
Brooke looked over at Peyton whose mouth was shut tight, trying desperately to stifle her sob. Tears flowed freely down the young woman's face as she looked up at the ceiling, shaking her head and then making a slight chuckle.
"I-I can't believe this," Brooke whispered, feeling her own eyes water, "Lucas is...?" she trailed off, "Why?"
Peyton only continued to chuckle lightly as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. She made a light sob in between laughs and placed her hand over her eyes and her other on her hip, bending forward as she tried desperately to stay composed.
"God, Peyton..." Brooke whispered in a quavering voice and embraced her friend, rubbing her back gently.
"Why d-did he do this..." Peyton questioned in a quavering voice, "W-why is he leaving me...why..." but she could speak no more as her eyes shut tight and tears rolled down her cheeks and her loud sobs begin to rack her body, echoing throughout the hallway.
"It's okay," Brooke whispered quietly, "It's gonna be okay." But even Brooke, with all of her optimistic charm, was hard pressed to believe her own words as she silently cried for Lucas as well.
"Oh, God!" Haley cried as she ran out of her classroom and collapsed to the floor beside a wall directly from the doorway, the sobs bringing her down before she could even make it to the bathroom. "Lucas, n-no! No!!"
Nathan ran to her side and kneeled down beside her, taking her into his arms. Placing a hand on her head he tried to be as soft and as gentle as he could, trying desperately to soothe her as he struggled with his own mixed emotions as he listened to his strong-willed girlfriend break down in his arms. He was unable to say a thing and simply closed his eyes as new feelings washed over him; feelings of guilt and grief.
* * *
In a nice neighborhood was a street that rolled straight into the heart of the area, surrounded by nice houses that lined the sides of the road. With their manicured yards and virtually identical shrub arrangements, the nice houses stood little chance of actually standing out from one another. Inside one of these nice houses was a man that had opened the door and rushed out in a three-piece suit to get his morning paper.
"Hello, Dan!" a woman called from her car as she was about to slide in, "How are you?"
"Fine, Martha!" Dan Scott called as he looked up at the woman, "And you?"
"Oh, I'm good!" the elderly woman called back and got into her car, "See you later!" she said cheerily.
"Okay!" Dan replied with false sincerity. Neighbors were not the man's thing and he made it a point to quickly return to his house from the cold and any more neighbors that decided to say hello.
Reaching the door, he opened it and shut it behind him, sighing as he walked into the kitchen and sat down, sighing as he flopped the paper onto the table. His wife, Deborah, was busy making toast and eggs.
"Oh, you're cooking for me?" Dan asked as he walked over and wrapped his wife in his arms from behind, rocking her back and forth slowly.
Deb Scott laughed, smiling while she responded, "Cooking? Yes. For me? Yes."
Dan scoffed and gave the woman a kiss on the cheek. "Very funny," he said sarcastically as he walked over to a cabinet and opened it to retrieve a black mug that read "Best. Salesman. Period." He walked over to the coffee maker and poured himself a mug full of the black liquid and stole a muffing from the basket that he knew Deb had made for Karen's diner.
"Hey!" Deb exclaimed, "Those are for Karen's customers, not greedy men like you!"
"Eh, she nor they will miss it," Dan said as he took a bite of the muffin. "Mm! Blueberry, my favorite! You sure you didn't make these for me?"
"Positive," Deb replied as she moved away from the skillet with a fork in one hand and a plate of scrambled eggs and two slices of toasted bread on the blue plate. Sitting down at the table, she sighed as she poured a generous amount of pepper on the eggs. "Don't you have that client that you need to speak to today?" Deb asked as she reached for the newspaper.
"Uh, yeah," Dan replied as he took a sip from his coffee mug, "It seems Patterson wants a Viper." Dan scoffed at the thought.
"What?" Deb said as she slowly unfolded the paper, looking up at her husband.
"Honey, this is Patterson we're talking about here. He has at least five years worth of debt, he only earns 20K a year, and he couldn't be any older for that car," Dan said with almost a smile on his face, "The man could not possibly be any more hopeless if he tried."
"Oh, really?" Deb stated, "And I suppose that covered Mustang you have sitting in that garage doesn't make you look like you're in mid-life crisis?" Deb smiled as she looked down at the paper
"You're just full of jokes, this morning, huh?" Dan mused but then stated more seriously, "I can afford things like that. Patterson can't." Taking another bite of muffin he remarked, "It's pathetic really."
"Dan..." Deb began shaking her head but trailed off as she looked at the newspaper with more clarity. Dropping her fork, which made a sudden clang onto the plate, she lifted the paper, breathing a bit faster than before. "O-oh my God!" Deb said, her voice shaking as she placed a hand over her mouth, shaking her head.
Dan noticed that something was wrong the moment his wife abruptly stopped talking. "What is it?" Dan asked looking her way with genuine concern in his eyes.
"I-it's Lucas," Deb said as she looked up at her husband, her eyes portraying disbelief, "He was shot and killed last night."
Something inside Dan made a beat against his chest as he stared at Deb for a moment. His lips parted slightly upon hearing the news and then his eyes trailed to the table as he set his mug down, surrounding it with both hands. Looking back up, he shook his head and his mouth closed again and almost formed into a sneer. "So what did he do?" Dan asked coarsely.
"What?" Deb asked as she looked at her husband, wondering why he would ask such a thing, "W-what do you mean, 'What did he do'?" she asked.
"Well, if he was shot and killed then he must have been doing something wrong, that's all I'm saying," Dan said as he took another bite from the muffin, turning his eyes away from his wife's, "God only knows what that kid was really doing with his life."
Deb stared at Dan in disbelief, her mouth more ajar at her husband's callousness toward the situation than when she read of Lucas' death. Suddenly, a fit of rage overcame her and she felt her temper overflow. "Like you ever knew what he did!" she yelled as she stood up from her seat, slamming her small hands forcefully against the table, which caused the plate, fork, and the mug to rattle and the salt and pepper shakers to topple over. "Like you even cared! My God, Dan!"
Dan looked up at his wife's sudden reaction. "What the hell is your problem, Deborah?" he asked with a confused expression.
"Do you want to know what my problem is, Dan? Huh!?" Deb yelled and picked up the paper and threw it in his face. "My problem is that my callous, asshole of a husband doesn't even give a damn about the death of his own son! That's what my problem is!"
"Deb..." Dan started but was instantly cut off by Deb's words.
"No! Don't you dare say a word!" Deb yelled at the man who was instantly silenced by her tone, "How DARE you think so lowly of Lucas. If anything, you should feel bad for yourself because you never got the chance to know your own son! I was able to and we were not even related!"
"I have a son, God dammit!" Dan yelled back, standing up to look down at his wife, "His name is Nathan! He's my pride and joy and I'd do anything for him!"
"Oh, is that so?" Deb said, "And what about Lucas!?"
"I feel bad for Karen! But what, do you want me to cry? Scream!? Be angry for something that I never had!?" Dan yelled, "No! I'm not gonna dwell on someone that I didn't even know! Someone that wasn't even my son!"
Deb made a light, incredulous chuckle at her husband and immediately slapped the man across the cheek with all of the force that her small arm would allow. "You son of a bitch..." Deb spat, still staring at the man.
Dan held his hand on his cheek and turned his head to face his wife once again.
"You sad, pathetic son of a bitch," she said shaking her head, a tear rolling down her eye as she looked at the man's shocked face. And with that, she pushed the chair away from behind her and walked out of the kitchen and into the den to grab her coat off the chair.
"Where are you going?" Dan called with slight anger in his voice.
"Over to Karen's," she said as she shucked on her coat and grabbed her keys off the kitchen counter, "She needs to be with someone that actually cares." Deb gave a long, spiteful look at her husband before she turned and left out of the kitchen again, the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut marking her exit.
"Dammit!!" Dan yelled as he slammed his fists on the table. His head down, he looked at the newspaper on the floor, the boldfaced, streaming headline staring back up at him, reading: "Local boy gunned down in cold blood."
Dan sighed, his face softening as he noticed the large picture of Lucas covering most of the page, the young man smiling brightly, happily.
Dan closed his eyes and walked away from the table and out of the kitchen and stood at the window of his living room, watching as Deb sped away in her car, down the long stretch of road and past all of the nice houses.
When he arrived back in Tree Hill, word had already traveled fast and rumors of his possible homosexuality leaked into the very heart of the town. No matter that the man did everything he could to protect this country during his time in the force, small-minded people could not look past mere possibilities and he became just another town pariah, lower than even Karen Roe who at least made something of herself after her scandalous relationship with Dan Scott. He tried to hold down jobs over the next few decades but his rage at the world and at himself prevented him from doing anything for very long, including making friends. What little family he did have in Tree Hill had moved away long ago: his sister along with her two children and his younger brother relocated to their respective states of California and Florida. His uncle had lost his fight against lung cancer while he was on the force, which made Ely feel even guiltier for not being there for the only father figure he ever had.
So, Ely made it a point to start a new project: the gradual deterioration of his own life. Still HIV positive, he refused any and all treatment and instead opted to drink heavily and smoke marijuana, provided by a source from out of town. He became the man that was always arrested for DUIs, the man that was always found in the town jail, sobering up, only to get out and start his day all over again with another bottle of Jack Daniels and a fat blunt in the corner of his mouth as he drove around in the same cherry red Ford truck that he lived out of.
Unemployed and desperate for money, one night Ely looked inside his glove compartment...and realized that his saving grace, his "last resort" bag of marijuana, was missing. In reality, he had simply misplaced the bag in the bed of his truck amidst the piles of clothes and personal belongings. Of course, an already doped up, drunken Ely knew the real reason for his missing drugs: the Scott boy. He had brought his truck in for an estimate, to which Keith and Lucas were glad to give for free. He noticed that the Scott boy was also looking inside his truck, on the passenger side. He made up an excuse that he wanted to make sure that the interior still looked good, too, but Ely knew better. He knew something was up with that kid. And now he knew for sure why his bag was gone.
So, Ely took a drive. A slow cruise, looking around at the people that were slowly retreating from their places of business, locking up for the evening and getting into their nice cars, driving to their nice houses, to their warm families...
"Oh..." Ely groaned quietly as he rubbed his eyes and then his temples, painfully aware of his aching migraine. He managed to refocus as much as he could on the road. Reaching for the silver volume knob on the radio, he turned up the twang of Garth Brooks' country music, tapping his hand along the steering wheel in a feeble attempt to stay alert. He looked over to the seat beside him: a gun sat comfortably, the barrel angled in a way to where it almost pointed to his feet. He had stolen that gun from one of those nice houses a few years ago, he couldn't remember exactly when. It was a brick house, with a nice looking lawn and a white garage door.
"Must be nice," Ely whispered as he cracked open a locked drawer with a crowbar and rummaged through various documents: car sales documents, monetary amounts, fiscal gains and losses, varsity basketball information. Ely threw all of this to the side and found something a bit more interesting: a black box without a lock. Ely opened the box and saw something he would never have expected to be in such a "nice house": a .32 caliber revolver with six bullets lined on either side of the gun, all set neatly amidst black foam material, shined to perfection. Ely didn't waist any time, closing the box and stuffing it under his bleach-stained black shirt, which he also used to wipe down places where his hands had been. With crowbar in hand, he exited the house through the back door, taking care to wipe away his prints from the doorknobs and ran to his car.
Shucking the box in the bed of his truck, he sped away before anyone was the wiser of his little escapade in the nice house. Later that day, he was questioned about his whereabouts just as any other ex-con was when the cops were notified of this recent break-in. Ely acted as expected, drunken as usual, saying he knew "nothin' at all".
Now that same revolver sat at his side, its reflective surface revealing the white light from the passing streetlights. All but one bullet had been used on the most random of things: soda cans, rats, and trash were some of the few things that served as amusement for the old man while he drove out of state to pick up his next bag of happiness. No, this bullet was going to put to good use, he thought as he tapped his hand furiously, trying to keep pace with the blaring country music. Then he saw it: the open garage door with that Scott boy standing there with his back to him, a water hose in hand, spraying down the concrete floor of the garage.
Ely had since turned down his music, unaware that he had parked alongside the curb. He didn't care. Looking at this boy sent a fit of rage into Ely, but he tried to calm down, gathering his nerves as he reached for the gun. Shifting sideways in his seat, he shoved the gun in the back pocket of his black jeans and cleared his throat.
"Now you're gonna tell me..." Ely whispered to himself and opened the door, got out of his truck, and shut the door quietly. He began to make his way toward the open garage door, unsure at first at what he was doing. For some reason he stopped, frightfully aware of what might happen if he went any further. But something told him to go on, and as the Scott boy looked up at Ely and gave him a smile, Ely darted his eyes around trying to avoid his face.
"I'm sorry, sir," the Scott boy said politely, "But we're closed for the evening. If you come back tomorrow Keith will be able to check you out."
Ely focused his eyes onto the boy after allowing them to roam across his surroundings. He only wanted to talk to the boy. Make him understand. And if things got bad, well...the boy could always go back to that nice house of his. That would make it all better.
* * *
Midnight. The sounds of people talking and exclaiming with fear in their voices had suddenly shaken the city awake. The source: Keith's garage off of 4th and Main. People had heard from others that there was a shooting. Some claimed they had heard the shot. Still others swear that they saw the shooter flee the scene, describing him as a crazed white man holding a gun in one hand, a wad of cash in the other, and an expression of evil plastered on his face. Others claimed he was short, black and wore a bright blue trench coat and it wasn't a gun but a knife that he was holding.
Only Keith Scott, the only man that was there knew the truth and he was virtually inaccessible to anyone save for a single cop that stood before him, trying desperately to take the shock-ridden man's statement.
"Why didn't you save him?" some simple-minded fool of a woman cried from the crowd, "He was your nephew! Why didn't you do something!?"
Keith only sobbed at this, burying his face in his open hands, dreading what he would have to tell Karen. That is, if she did not already know what occurred.
"Everyone please! Back off!" an officer yelled, "This is a crime scene! I need everyone to just back off!"
And so the people did, standing back as officers ushered them away. The crowd was still restless, looking for something to see now that the body had been taken away. They were almost like vultures over a carcass, searching for the last ounce of blood that had made its initial journey from Lucas Scott's gunshot wound onto the cold, concrete floor of the garage. They sought something that would make them swoon, make them grimace in disgust, something that they could have in their memory to sensationalize to someone, anyone that would listen that night and the next day so they could seem important. Since they didn't see the crime, they might as well get a good look at the scene of commotion.
"Keith," a man's voice said in a soothing manner, "I need you to tell me what happened. Please."
Keith looked up from his hands at the officer, who had crouched beside him to get eye contact with him. Keith had not budged from the place where his nephew had died, suffering from an impossible amount of shock and grief that prevented him from lifting himself up to ride with Lucas on the way to the hospital. No. Instead Keith sat there, face wet with tears and his nephew's blood staining his hands, beside Lucas' place of death, a horrifically massive spot of crimson marking the spot. Keith had never fathomed that someone could have so much blood. Even as the paramedics lifted Lucas' body, he saw his nephew's shirt: most of the back stained and dripping with the dark fluid that Keith had suddenly become so acquainted with. And he watched helplessly as they lifted his body onto a stretcher and groaned deeply as he saw Lucas' left arm fall lifelessly over the side of the stretcher, hanging there as the paramedics wheeled him away.
"Lucas..." Keith whispered anxiously and scrambled to get up from the floor but a cop held him down, realizing that Keith was in no condition to do anything at the moment. And so Keith struggled, watching as the paramedics lifted Lucas up into the air and then immediately shoved his body into the ambulance. After loading him securely, one of the paramedics hopped in while another closed both doors and beat harshly on the back of the van, signaling for the driver to take off.
And it did, the sirens ring piercing Keith's ears as he watched the ambulance drive away with his nephew in tow as they tried, in vain, to revive him. He knew there was no more hope. Once he saw Lucas draw his final breath, something deep within told him everything he needed to know. His heart ached as he watched the ambulance disappear, although he could still hear the sirens wail even after the vehicle had fallen out of sight.
"Keith, please," the same officer pleaded yet still calm, still soothing, "You need to tell me what you know."
Keith looked up at the officer, his eyes red and bloodshot, wet from an overflow of tears. The officer himself also seemed to express much emotion not only for Keith but also for the young man that had died. "Keith...let me nail this sick bastard for you," the officer said in a lower tone, "Just tell me what you saw."
Keith turned his head away from the man slowly, looking toward the crowd of people that was now slowly dissipating into the night, getting enough information for the stories that they would tell to whomever chose to listen. Keith sniffled and said with a quavering voice, "I-I have to tell K-Karen. A-after this, I h-have to t-tell Karen."
"I know," the officer said and quickly whipped out a pen and paper in anticipation of Keith's account, "Just go ahead. Take your time."
Keith sniffled again, sobbing quietly as he closed his eyes, fresh tears running down his face. He knew what he had to do.
* * *
With golden curls falling over her face, Peyton sighed as she angled the pencil in her hands to sketch a firm, dark line across the sheet of paper. Drawing a hand through her hair, she kicked up her leg as she made the connection from one line to another, completing the face of a young man that held a passing resemblance to one Lucas Scott. She placed the pencil down on her bed and took the drawing in her hands, studying the picture before finally getting up and walking over to her desk. Placing her sketchbook down on the desktop with the picture on top of the book, she sat in the chair and looked into the camera that broadcast her image over the net for anyone to see. She wondered if Lucas was watching or if the young man was even thinking about her. Pouting her lip, she fiddled with a pencil on her desk until her phone rang. She picked it up and answered, "Hello?"
"Hey," a familiar female voice replied.
"What's up?" Peyton asked as she shifted in her chair. Although she was glad to hear from Brooke, she had secretly hoped that Lucas was on the other end.
" 'What's up'? Is that all you can ask me," Brooke Davis asked, "What about 'How are you feeling, Brooke? Do you need anything, Brooke?' Show some compassion for your sick friend."
"Okay," Peyton said, "Why weren't you in school today, Brooke? Decided to make playing hooky popular again?"
"Hey, I really was sick...for an hour," Brooke replied and chuckled.
Peyton couldn't help but chuckle along with her best friend as well. As much as she longed to speak to Lucas again Brooke was a welcome distraction from her problems with him. "So what did you do today?" Peyton asked, "Daddy take you on a shopping spree?"
"His credit card did," Brooke replied slyly, "And girl did I shop today! Whoo! It was well worth a week's punishment. Mom even convinced him that I should keep everything, too."
"You're such a spoiled brat," Peyton said as she shook her head, smiling at her best friend's utter gall, "Only you could get away with something like that with only a week's punishment."
"Hey! I say that being grounded for a week is more than enough punishment for a girl like me. It's almost unfair," Brooke protested, "But I guess they've gotta make boundaries somewhere, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Peyton said. There was a moment of silence between the two of them, something that was becoming more and more common in their phone conversations.
"So talk to me, girlfriend," Brooke said suddenly, "How's it going with you and that hot piece of blue collar material?"
Peyton sighed, not really wanting to talk about matters of Lucas with someone who was almost his girlfriend, even if she was her best friend first. But she decided that she was better than nothing else. "Well, it's going," Peyton replied, "But I've got this feeling that we're about to hit a dead end."
"What? Girl, please. You and Luke are heating up!" Brooke exclaimed, "There is absolutely no way the both of you aren't getting together. He's available, you're most definitely available, and there's nothing holding the both of you back."
"No excess baggage?" Peyton asked as she clicked on her mouse to bring up her web browser.
"That's right," Brooke answered, "None at all...or is there?"
Peyton was quiet as she rolled the mouse and clicked a few buttons on the screen with the arrow pointer.
"Peyton, I asked you a question," Brooke said firmly, "What's the deal?"
"And why do you want to really know, Brooke," Peyton snapped, "Are you gonna swoop in for the kill if I say anything that shows I have doubts?"
"What?" Brooke protested, "What the hell, Peyton?"
"Oh, come on, Brooke! Don't act all innocent. You did it once and you'll do it again! We both know you will!" Peyton accused harshly.
"Listen to what you're saying, Peyton," Brooke replied heatedly, "Do you realize that what's coming out of your mouth is complete and total garbage? What did I tell you I would do when you told me you were going to start seriously pursuing Luke?"
"That you would back off," Peyton said, "But..."
"But nothing," Brooke interrupted sharply, "Now I don't know who you think I am but when I say I'll back off, I'm being honest. Don't start confusing me with that asshole of an ex Nathan. I actually keep my promises."
Peyton sighed deeply, running her hand through her hair. "God! What the hell is wrong with me today? I'm just feeling so insecure," Peyton said, "I feel so...so..."
"Lost?" Brooke suggested.
Silence reigned over the phone.
"Yeah...how did you know?" Peyton asked as she sat back in her chair, her hand away from the mouse.
"Because you've been acting like you are. You seem to not know where you want to go or what you want to do. And... I admire you for that," Brooke stated, "At least you have the balls to admit it. I on the other hand..."
"Brooke..." Peyton started but was stopped by Brooke's voice.
"Peyton, please. I'm so clueless as to what I want in life it's scary sometimes. Now I say sometimes because at least I have friends like you to show me that life's not so...scary. If that makes any sense."
"Not really," Peyton said and chuckled, "But I think I get your point."
"Peyton...if you're afraid or if you ever need to talk, please...talk to me. I'm not just some ditsy cheerleader, you know?" Brooke remarked.
"I know that and I don't think of you that way," Peyton said. After a moment Peyton said in a tiny voice, "Still friends?"
"Of course!" Brooke said and giggled over the phone. "So, let's change subjects. I want to talk about what you plan on doing this winter break."
"Well," Peyton said, "I don't know really. I haven't thought about it much. My dad and I usually go to Tennesse to visit family but he's not really up to it this year and neither am I, so..." Peyton trailed off.
"Well," Brooked began, "I'm thinking of going with my parents to Hawaii! How does that sound?"
"Sounds great!" Peyton beamed with genuine excitement as she sat up in her chair, "Oh my God, how did your parents score such a kick-ass trip?"
"Well, remember when I told you daddy got a raise at his job? Well, he was able to save up enough money to buy plane tickets and make reservations, all for a trip to Hawaii!"
"That's great, Brooke!" Peyton exclaimed.
"But this is where it gets good," Brooke said in a lower tone, "Daddy still had money left over and he was able to buy another plane ticket and make one more reservation, as per my bugging him about it."
"You didn't..." Peyton exclaimed, actually rising from her chair, her mouth wide open in anticipation of what she thought she was going to hear next.
"Yes! If you want, you can come along!" Brooke exclaimed.
"Oh my God, Brooke!" Peyton exclaimed, "Oh, thank you so much! You're the best!"
"Yeah, I know," Brooke joked while laughing, "But yeah, that's also why I was out of school today. I didn't want to risk telling you until the time was just right. Do you think your dad will be cool with it?"
"I'm sure he will," Peyton said and sighed giddily. Sitting back down she chuckled again. "Gosh...I really needed that. You weren't just saying all that to get me happy, were you?"
"I'm dead serious," Brooke said, "Cross my heart!"
"Thank you so much," Peyton said with a calmer and even more heartfelt tone. Peyton felt deep down that she truly needed this vacation.
"No problem, girl. You've done so much for me and I think it's about time I repay the favor," Brooke replied. "But I gotta get going. We've got a long day tomorrow. You're picking me up in the morning, right?"
"Yeah," Peyton said with another short chuckle in her voice, "Sleep well, Brooke. And thanks again!"
"Stop, you're killing me!" Brooke said in jest, "Bye!"
"Bye!" Peyton said and replaced the receiver on the phone. Sighing, Peyton looked into the camera with a smile, not believing what had just went down and how good her best friend truly was. For that one moment her problems were lifted from her soul. Even as she stared at the vaguely recognizable drawing of Lucas the young woman could only smile, remembering only the good in her relationship with the young man.
But something made her lose her smile almost instantly: the sound of an ambulance siren in the far distance. If she was doing anything else she may have not noticed it but there it was, faint from behind her window. She turned to look at the window but could not see anything as was to be expected considering that paramedics never made it a habit to drive through neighborhoods. As Peyton got up however, her hip grazed against the drawing of Lucas, causing the drawing to fall to the floor. She turned to look at the drawing lying on the floor, covered in the shadows that the light from her small lamp could not reach.
The faint sound of the ambulance siren soon faded into the night.
* * *
The blue and white police vehicle parked into the driveway at about two thirty A.M., with an emotionally drained Keith sitting in the front of the vehicle. The man stared out of the windshield, his face racked with pain, cheeks still wet from recent tears. The officer that had escorted him home put the vehicle in park and turned to face the man that had lost his nephew. "Keith..."
"Wait!" Keith yelled then turned to face the officer, gasping before taking in a trembling breath and said, "I'm sorry, just...can we wait here a moment? Please."
The officer nodded but added, "I'll wait but...the boy's mother can't wait forever. She's gotta know."
Keith nodded slowly, still staring at the officer with teary eyes as his head bobbed up and down. With his head still nodding, he turned and faced the passenger side window, looking out at the quaint little house of Karen Roe. A dim light could be seen and he could see what appeared to be the silhouette of Karen in the living room.
"She's waiting, Keith," the officer said, snapping the man out of his daze, "If you can't do it, I'll..."
"I'll do it!!" Keith yelled darting his head back toward the officer who was slightly fazed by Keith's sudden explosion of anger. The officer could see new tears streaming down his face as they bored back into his. Keith shook his head and repeated in a subdued tone, "...I'll do it."
* * *
Karen Roe was pacing. Pacing across her living floor in her nightgown, her arms crossed across her chest. Her face was filled with worry, her eyes fearful. She didn't know where neither her son nor Keith were. She had last talked to Keith at about nine-fifty at night.
"The place was packed today so we're gonna be awhile. We should be in by ten-thirty, eleven at the very latest," Keith had said to her over the phone when he called her at the diner.
Karen, though busy closing her own business for the night, still played the role of a concerned if not overprotective parent by replying, "Are you sure, Keith? Lucas needs his rest."
"I promise, Kare," Keith assured her.
"All right. You two have fun," Karen had said and that was the last she had heard of either one of them.
It was now two forty-five and Karen was beyond pissed: she was now officially worried and scared. What had happened to them? Were they all right? Were they hurt? Or did she hear wrong and Keith really said a later time which got Karen's blood bubbling at the very thought of Keith keeping her son out so late on a school night.
But when she heard the door open from the kitchen she ran to find Keith shuffling into the darkness. Karen stopped in the doorway connecting the kitchen to the living room. "Well, thank God!" Karen exclaimed although with an angry tone in her voice, "I was thinking all sorts of things while you and my son were out on the town! What the hell were you two thinking!? Lucas has school and you're supposed to be setting an example, Keith!"
But Keith said nothing and Karen noticed the man was in a rather subdued state. "Keith, have you been drinking?" asked in a lower tone, although her temper was gradually reaching new levels.
"...N-no," Keith's voice managed to produce through trembles.
Karen reached for the light switch mounted into the wall on her right and flipped it on... and gasped to find Keith standing at the door, his face pale and wet, his eyes tired and red, his posture broken and defeated. But what she noticed more than anything else was the red that stained his undershirt and his jeans, stained his hands and arms, stained even his cheeks.
"My God, Keith!" Karen cried and ran toward the man, "Is this blood!? What happened!? Are you all right!?"
Keith looked into Karen's pleading eyes, his own eyes trying desperately to search for a way to tell her without him actually having to verbalize anything. His lips were pressed flat against one another in a brave attempt to stifle a sob.
Karen suddenly realized that everything was not right with this picture. He had no wounds on his body despite blood-soaked clothing and yet he stood here with a look of pain and grief in his eyes as if he had been killed over and over again. "Where's Lucas?" Karen whispered.
Keith could no longer contain his sob and let it out, startling Karen as she watched the man's eyes close tight as tears flowed. He embraced Karen into a gentle hug, his body wracking with sobs as he tried in vain to compose himself. "I-I'm s-sorry, Karen..." Keith whispered, "I really am."
"No," Karen said as she pushed away from Keith, "Y-you didn't answer me," she said, her words suddenly being halted by some unknown force, "T-tell..." she stopped for a moment to regain her composure, turning her head to look down at the floor, her eyes closed, her lips clamped shut. She returned her attention to the man in front of her, "Tell me what h-happened...to my son."
"God..." Keith said as he shook his head, his arms outstretched as if trying to welcome her back into his embrace but she held her ground. His arms dropped helplessly and he groaned, running a hand roughly through his brown hair. "He's dead, Kare," he said finally, "He's dead."
Karen's eyes suddenly opened wide as she began to hyperventilate, her mouth dropping open as she tried desperately to take in air. Her head shaking she began to feel her knees go weak, turning into jelly, until she grabbed hold of the nearby countertop to keep from falling. "Dea...?" she asked in a gasping voice that was disbelieving, almost pleading to him. A tear streamed from her left eye and she quickly wiped it away with her hand. "N-no, no! I-I saw him earlier today! I spoke to him! I gave him those s-sandwiches!! H-he can't possibly..."
Keith quickly came to Karen's side, holding her with his strong, hard hands to make sure she would not collapse. "Honey, I know," Keith said, anguish clearly in his voice as he nodded his head, "I know. But he's gone now."
"No!" Karen screamed angrily, her eyes squinting as they overflowed with tears, "No! No! No!!" Karen struggled to get away from Keith's firm grip on her, "Please don't say that!! It's not true! It's..."
"Karen!" Keith yelled, pleading and anger and sorrow all mixed in his voice, "Karen, please!! He's gone! He died tonight...he..." but Keith could say no more as his hands limply fell from Karen's wrists and went to his face as he sobbed, turning his back on the woman as he leaned against the refrigerator.
Karen's eyes were darting across the room, searching for some answer to all of what was being said. Was it a dream? Was it a nightmare? It had to be something that she could just wake up from and everything would be fine. She looked for a prompt, a person, a thing, ANYTHING that could tell her this world was not real and that she was only imaging this.
But nothing happened.
And Karen suddenly heard a noise escape from somewhere. It was a deep sound, a groan, although it sounded much more painful. Soon, she realized that the sound was coming from her as she felt her lungs gasp which produced the sound again. She covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise. To keep that disgusting sound from being audible again. But it kept coming: sob after sob escaping her body, racking her to the floor as she fell to her knees, her tears rolling down her pale cheeks, her dark hair around her face, covering her expression of sorrow as it matted against her ever dampening cheeks.
"Why!?" she wailed between sobs, "Why!? Why!?"
Keith lifted his head from the refrigerator, seeing Karen on the floor. He managed to walk toward the fallen woman, watching as she cried, falling into long silent sobs before gasping for air to emit another pained cry of anguish, holding her hand against her mouth. Keith fell next to her and embraced her gently once again.
Karen returned the embrace, hugging him tightly as she buried her face into Keith's strong chest, her sobs still wracking her body as she tried desperately to take in air.
"Just let it all out," Keith whispered as he flattened her hair on her head, a strength and solidity in his voice that he thought he would never have at this moment. "You just let it all out," he encouraged soothingly.
They sat on the floor, crying in each other's arms until finally Karen fell into a fitful sleep, exhausted by her emotional roller coaster. Keith then carefully picked her up and carried her off to bed, making sure to tuck her in as best he could before he sat in a chair next to her, staring at her pained expression, watching as tears continued to flow down her cheeks, her sleep talk consisting of her son's name faintly being called again and again with anguish and sorrow.
And he watched her. Watched her fall into that restless sleep until he finally found a way to go to sleep as well.
* * *
Morning. The sun's light once again shined above the tops of the buildings, illuminating the dew dropped grass with warm rays. The light illuminated the streets, including 4th and Main where so much anguish had occurred only hours earlier. The light washed over the nice houses of Tree Hill, including Karen Roe's home though there was no sign of activity within its walls. The light came to the playground, stretching across the empty basketball court and covering the goal where Lucas Scott practiced diligently only yesterday.
Now, however, that goal was unoccupied. Lucas Scott was not practicing his game nor would he ever do so again. The goal, however, stood erect and waited, patient for the familiar rumble of the young man's truck and the telltale "beat, beat, beat" of a dribbling basketball as Lucas ran up to the goal and started off his morning with a simple finger roll, sliding gracefully into the net.
Instead, the sun passed over the goal and moved on, leaving the goal alone on the playground.
* * *
"...and so I told him like, 'I would never sleep with you! You're not even rich!" Brooke exclaimed and laughed out loud, her eyes closed as she did.
Peyton scoffed, smiling in spite of herself at her best friend's lame remark, "You're so wrong," Peyton groaned.
"Oh, I'm just joking," Brooke said as she passed a hand through her hair, "Besides, he and I are cool like that. He knows I would sleep with him any time." Brooke smiled lustfully, emitting a disgusted groan from Peyton.
"God! It's too early, Brooke," Peyton said while laughing, "You're such a nymph!" Shaking her head, her blonde locks shook gracefully across her face.
"Oh, like you didn't know," Brooke protested with a bit of melodrama, placing her hand across her forehead, feigning light-headedness.
"So," Peyton began, "Did you hear that siren last night?"
Brooke sighed, still smiling and asked lightly, "What siren?"
"I thought I heard an ambulance siren going off last night after we hung up," Peyton explained looking a bit more serious as she focused on the road ahead, "It was kind of freaky."
"An siren? Freaky?" Brooke asked, shaking her head, "Girl, you're a mess, you know that? And no, I didn't hear anything last night. My music was on."
"Oh," Peyton said. She looked over at Brooke for a moment before returning her gaze to the road. Tree Hill High School was beginning to appear over the horizon.
"What's up, Peyton?" Brooke asked as she looked out at the road ahead as well. She finally turned her head to at her friend, "Why would you ask that? Is it...your mom?"
Peyton sighed, her grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly, causing her knuckles to go white. "Sirens just...they're just not heard around here a lot, you know? I was wondering that maybe something was wrong."
"Well, duh," Brooke replied as she turned her attention to her nails, making sure her new coat of paint was still intact, "Someone was obviously hurt, Peyton. Why else would an ambulance be out at night?"
"You know what I mean. I..." Peyton trailed off, blowing air out of her nose, "You know what? It's nothing. I'm just being paranoid." Peyton took in some air and exhaled with an audible sigh. "Look, we're almost here," Peyton said with dry elation.
"Yeah, isn't it great?" Brooke said with mock excitement and forced a giddy "Valley Girl" laugh.
Peyton chuckled at her friend's utter goofiness and sighed. Still, the feeling of dread that she had been experiencing all morning just wouldn't go away. And soon she would know exactly why.
* * *
The light rumble of the SUV was silenced as Nathan turned the ignition to the off position and sat back. Looking over to the passenger side he scanned Haley sitting in her seat, looking straight ahead. Her face was expressionless, her mouth slightly gaped as she stared out at the passing kids, her shallow breath the only sound escaping her lips.
Nathan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly.
Haley turned her head to face Nathan's worried expression. "I-I was just thinking about Lucas," she responded.
"What about him?" Nathan said crossly. He did not want to be reminded of his half brother at the moment.
"Nathan...I said some pretty harsh things to him the other day," she said as she turned to better face her boyfriend, "I mean, I agree totally that he was out of line, but I was pretty mean and..."
"No, you weren't," Nathan said stopping her before she went any further, "You said what you felt and that's all there is to it. The kid was being a jerk and you gave him a piece of your mind, simple as that."
"But..." Haley started but she felt Nathan's warm finger press against her lips.
"Hey. If Lucas wants to be an asshole to me that's fine, I can take it. But when he's being an asshole to you, well..." Nathan scoffed, shaking his head, "That's just crossing the line. You know, he's got a lot of nerve thinking you can't make your own damn decisions."
"He's just looking out for me, Nate," Haley replied, "He was only doing what he thought was right."
"And that's the thing: what HE thinks," Nathan retorted, "He thinks his word is gold and everyone else's is shit. That's what I really get tired about with him sometimes, Hales." Nathan shook his head, "But I said I'm going to get along with him. Even if it means I have to keep from beating his ass if he doesn't apologize to you today."
Haley smiled at this comment. Though his chivalry came with crude language it was chivalry nonetheless and made the young woman feel special. "Thank you," she said and leaned in to kiss Nathan lightly across the lips.
When Haley sat back in her chair Nathan was smiling, his frown transforming into raised eyebrows, wide eyes, and a goofy grin. "I should be thanking you right now," he said.
Haley giggled and hit him playfully across the arm. "Let's go, doofus," she joked and unfastened her seatbelt and opened the car door, gathering her backpack from her lap and slinging it over her arms.
"Yes, ma'am," Nathan replied and smiled as he pulled the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car to join Haley by her side. They walked together talking, joking around, disregarding anyone else that was around them.
As they stepped into the hallway, Haley was looking around for Lucas, wondering if he was present. She was in the mood for an apology today and she just knew that she was going to get one.
"Anticipating for Luke to give you that apology you deserve?" Nathan asked as he made a chuckle.
"You're right on, bub," Haley said with a smile. Curiously, she could not find the young man's tall frame moving amidst the mass of students making their way to their first period classes. Haley frowned for a moment then figured that he might just be running late again since he was probably out at the playground practicing.
"Ah, forget him," Nathan said, "You'll see him later. Come on, let's get to class."
Haley scanned the area on more time for Lucas before finally nodding and saying slowly, "Okay." Looking up at Nathan she smiled and took his hand in hers. "Let's go."
Nathan smiled and squeezed her hand gently as the couple made their way toward the end of the hall.
"Poor, misguided girl," Brooke sighed as she closed her locker, watching from afar as she saw Haley and Nathan walk toward the end of the hall, "Doesn't she know that that's the wrong Scott brother? She must be on something."
Peyton lifted her head from her locker and watched as the couple turned the corner of the hallway. She smiled slightly at the sight of them but then responded accordingly, "Yeah, I know. Everyone knows Nathan Scott is a dick."
Brooke chuckled then looked around some more. "Hey, I don't see your blue collar man anywhere," she mused, "Wonder where he is?"
"Probably out practicing," Peyton replied as she lifted her head from her locker for good with a grouping of books in her arms. She closed the locker door with her hip. "He said he was making it a habit these days. 'I want to be able to wipe the floor with Nathan'," Peyton imitated Lucas' voice in a poor yet humorous manner. "I swear. The testosterone levels between them are enough to drown a girl in."
"Yeah, I hear 'ya," Brooke replied, "And that's definitely a good thing."
"Oh, shut up!" Peyton exclaimed wearily and playfully shoved Brooke.
Brooke only smiled as she looked at her friend who returned to a more subdued, thoughtful state. "You really care about him, don't you?" she asked suddenly.
"Who? Luke?" Peyton said as she turned to face Brooke again, a curly blonde lock falling over her face, "You know how I feel, Brooke."
"Yeah, but...can you just tell me. For my sake?" Brooke said with more seriousness in her voice than she had all morning.
"Why?" Peyton asked, "You know my feelings. I tell you everything."
"Well then, just humor me, okay?" Brooke said as she looked at Peyton, "I guess I need to know these things...I need to know that I can find love like what you and Luke have...someday."
"Brooke, we're not that serious," Peyton replied, "We've been talking, but..."
"Peyton!" Brooke exclaimed.
"All right! All right! I..." Peyton trailed off still looking at Brooke, "I guess I like him. No...I think I'm kind of sort of..." trailing off again she finally said in one fell swoop, "...falling in love with him."
Brooke gasped, stopped by this turn of events, her eyes wide with surprise, her mouth open in pure joy. "I knew it! I knew it!" Brooke exclaimed, "I had my doubts but I knew you did!"
"What...?" Peyton asked but then she immediately realized that she had been totally fooled. "Oh my God, Brooke!" Peyton exclaimed.
"I knew it! I knew that if I just give you that old spiel you'd spill everything!" Brooke exclaimed.
"You better not go telling everyone about this!" the blonde exclaimed in a low tone, "I'm not even sure if this is real or not."
"Okay, okay," Brooke said, sighing after her initial fit of excitement, "I just had to find out one way or another! You tell me everything that goes on up here," Brooke said as she pointed to Peyton's head, "But you hardly ever tell me what's going on in here," she finished as she laid a hand over Peyton's heart.
Peyton smiled, chuckling at her friend's craftiness. "You're slick, you know that?" Peyton said as the two began to walk to their class together.
"I know," Brooke replied with sass, "I was made that way."
Peyton's laughter echoed as the two girls turned left at the end of the hallway.
* * *
As students in all classes began to sit down and become quiet as their respective teachers waited at the front of the room, each teacher had some form of knowing looks on their faces. An expression of expectance of something that they knew was bound to happen within the next few moments.
Suddenly, a long tone sounded from the intercom and the deep voice of the principal cleared his throat and began in a solemn voice:
"Good morning, students and teachers. I hope that all of you had a safe journey on your way here to school and I hope that you all are sitting down. What I am about to say may shock many of you who have probably not heard the news."
Haley looked away from Nathan as she turned her ear to hear the intercom, wondering what the principal was going to say. Her smile had faded slightly.
Nathan's smile faded when he saw Haley's disappear, wondering why she was taking the words of such a blowhard like the principal so seriously. But something inside told him to listen as well.
Peyton and Brooke stood outside of their classroom, stopped by the teacher that signaled for them to wait at the door until the principal finished what he had to say. Brooke was fuming because she wanted to sit down; Peyton frowned but it was for different reasons. She wanted to know what the man had to say. Would it be about the siren she heard?
"At about ten thirty yesterday evening, Lucas Scott was shot and later died from shock while he was closing down shop at his uncle's garage."
Students across the school began to murmur words of shock to one another.
"As many of you probably know, Lucas played on this school's varsity basketball team with some of our top players. He had extraordinary talent, not just on the court but also in class where he excelled in academics, especially literature."
"Oh my god," a young girl whispered to another classmate sitting beside her, "...that's so awful..."
"I can only hope that those of you who knew Lucas best will be able to, in time, cope with such a devastating loss. If any of you feel that you need help dealing with this, the guidance counselor, your teachers, coaches, even me... we are all here to help you get through this rough time. Now...I would like to have a moment of silence for Lucas Scott."
Haley's breath was shallow, making short gasps as she looked at the intercom. She turned to face Nathan whose mouth was slightly gaping, his eyes, and his entire face in a confused expression looking back at her. "N-Nathan...?" she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.
"Hales..." Nathan started but he didn't know what to say to her. She looked at him with pleading eyes, looking for some type of answer from him. But he could not give one for he was shocked by the news himself, his mind going blank as he tried to grasp the concept; as he tried, in vain, to pair the name "Lucas" with the word "death". Hell, he could not get past the death without his heart racing.
"Thank you and I hope, under the circumstances, all of you will try to have a good day," the principal said with a sigh and the intercom buzzed off.
Brooke looked over at Peyton whose mouth was shut tight, trying desperately to stifle her sob. Tears flowed freely down the young woman's face as she looked up at the ceiling, shaking her head and then making a slight chuckle.
"I-I can't believe this," Brooke whispered, feeling her own eyes water, "Lucas is...?" she trailed off, "Why?"
Peyton only continued to chuckle lightly as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. She made a light sob in between laughs and placed her hand over her eyes and her other on her hip, bending forward as she tried desperately to stay composed.
"God, Peyton..." Brooke whispered in a quavering voice and embraced her friend, rubbing her back gently.
"Why d-did he do this..." Peyton questioned in a quavering voice, "W-why is he leaving me...why..." but she could speak no more as her eyes shut tight and tears rolled down her cheeks and her loud sobs begin to rack her body, echoing throughout the hallway.
"It's okay," Brooke whispered quietly, "It's gonna be okay." But even Brooke, with all of her optimistic charm, was hard pressed to believe her own words as she silently cried for Lucas as well.
"Oh, God!" Haley cried as she ran out of her classroom and collapsed to the floor beside a wall directly from the doorway, the sobs bringing her down before she could even make it to the bathroom. "Lucas, n-no! No!!"
Nathan ran to her side and kneeled down beside her, taking her into his arms. Placing a hand on her head he tried to be as soft and as gentle as he could, trying desperately to soothe her as he struggled with his own mixed emotions as he listened to his strong-willed girlfriend break down in his arms. He was unable to say a thing and simply closed his eyes as new feelings washed over him; feelings of guilt and grief.
* * *
In a nice neighborhood was a street that rolled straight into the heart of the area, surrounded by nice houses that lined the sides of the road. With their manicured yards and virtually identical shrub arrangements, the nice houses stood little chance of actually standing out from one another. Inside one of these nice houses was a man that had opened the door and rushed out in a three-piece suit to get his morning paper.
"Hello, Dan!" a woman called from her car as she was about to slide in, "How are you?"
"Fine, Martha!" Dan Scott called as he looked up at the woman, "And you?"
"Oh, I'm good!" the elderly woman called back and got into her car, "See you later!" she said cheerily.
"Okay!" Dan replied with false sincerity. Neighbors were not the man's thing and he made it a point to quickly return to his house from the cold and any more neighbors that decided to say hello.
Reaching the door, he opened it and shut it behind him, sighing as he walked into the kitchen and sat down, sighing as he flopped the paper onto the table. His wife, Deborah, was busy making toast and eggs.
"Oh, you're cooking for me?" Dan asked as he walked over and wrapped his wife in his arms from behind, rocking her back and forth slowly.
Deb Scott laughed, smiling while she responded, "Cooking? Yes. For me? Yes."
Dan scoffed and gave the woman a kiss on the cheek. "Very funny," he said sarcastically as he walked over to a cabinet and opened it to retrieve a black mug that read "Best. Salesman. Period." He walked over to the coffee maker and poured himself a mug full of the black liquid and stole a muffing from the basket that he knew Deb had made for Karen's diner.
"Hey!" Deb exclaimed, "Those are for Karen's customers, not greedy men like you!"
"Eh, she nor they will miss it," Dan said as he took a bite of the muffin. "Mm! Blueberry, my favorite! You sure you didn't make these for me?"
"Positive," Deb replied as she moved away from the skillet with a fork in one hand and a plate of scrambled eggs and two slices of toasted bread on the blue plate. Sitting down at the table, she sighed as she poured a generous amount of pepper on the eggs. "Don't you have that client that you need to speak to today?" Deb asked as she reached for the newspaper.
"Uh, yeah," Dan replied as he took a sip from his coffee mug, "It seems Patterson wants a Viper." Dan scoffed at the thought.
"What?" Deb said as she slowly unfolded the paper, looking up at her husband.
"Honey, this is Patterson we're talking about here. He has at least five years worth of debt, he only earns 20K a year, and he couldn't be any older for that car," Dan said with almost a smile on his face, "The man could not possibly be any more hopeless if he tried."
"Oh, really?" Deb stated, "And I suppose that covered Mustang you have sitting in that garage doesn't make you look like you're in mid-life crisis?" Deb smiled as she looked down at the paper
"You're just full of jokes, this morning, huh?" Dan mused but then stated more seriously, "I can afford things like that. Patterson can't." Taking another bite of muffin he remarked, "It's pathetic really."
"Dan..." Deb began shaking her head but trailed off as she looked at the newspaper with more clarity. Dropping her fork, which made a sudden clang onto the plate, she lifted the paper, breathing a bit faster than before. "O-oh my God!" Deb said, her voice shaking as she placed a hand over her mouth, shaking her head.
Dan noticed that something was wrong the moment his wife abruptly stopped talking. "What is it?" Dan asked looking her way with genuine concern in his eyes.
"I-it's Lucas," Deb said as she looked up at her husband, her eyes portraying disbelief, "He was shot and killed last night."
Something inside Dan made a beat against his chest as he stared at Deb for a moment. His lips parted slightly upon hearing the news and then his eyes trailed to the table as he set his mug down, surrounding it with both hands. Looking back up, he shook his head and his mouth closed again and almost formed into a sneer. "So what did he do?" Dan asked coarsely.
"What?" Deb asked as she looked at her husband, wondering why he would ask such a thing, "W-what do you mean, 'What did he do'?" she asked.
"Well, if he was shot and killed then he must have been doing something wrong, that's all I'm saying," Dan said as he took another bite from the muffin, turning his eyes away from his wife's, "God only knows what that kid was really doing with his life."
Deb stared at Dan in disbelief, her mouth more ajar at her husband's callousness toward the situation than when she read of Lucas' death. Suddenly, a fit of rage overcame her and she felt her temper overflow. "Like you ever knew what he did!" she yelled as she stood up from her seat, slamming her small hands forcefully against the table, which caused the plate, fork, and the mug to rattle and the salt and pepper shakers to topple over. "Like you even cared! My God, Dan!"
Dan looked up at his wife's sudden reaction. "What the hell is your problem, Deborah?" he asked with a confused expression.
"Do you want to know what my problem is, Dan? Huh!?" Deb yelled and picked up the paper and threw it in his face. "My problem is that my callous, asshole of a husband doesn't even give a damn about the death of his own son! That's what my problem is!"
"Deb..." Dan started but was instantly cut off by Deb's words.
"No! Don't you dare say a word!" Deb yelled at the man who was instantly silenced by her tone, "How DARE you think so lowly of Lucas. If anything, you should feel bad for yourself because you never got the chance to know your own son! I was able to and we were not even related!"
"I have a son, God dammit!" Dan yelled back, standing up to look down at his wife, "His name is Nathan! He's my pride and joy and I'd do anything for him!"
"Oh, is that so?" Deb said, "And what about Lucas!?"
"I feel bad for Karen! But what, do you want me to cry? Scream!? Be angry for something that I never had!?" Dan yelled, "No! I'm not gonna dwell on someone that I didn't even know! Someone that wasn't even my son!"
Deb made a light, incredulous chuckle at her husband and immediately slapped the man across the cheek with all of the force that her small arm would allow. "You son of a bitch..." Deb spat, still staring at the man.
Dan held his hand on his cheek and turned his head to face his wife once again.
"You sad, pathetic son of a bitch," she said shaking her head, a tear rolling down her eye as she looked at the man's shocked face. And with that, she pushed the chair away from behind her and walked out of the kitchen and into the den to grab her coat off the chair.
"Where are you going?" Dan called with slight anger in his voice.
"Over to Karen's," she said as she shucked on her coat and grabbed her keys off the kitchen counter, "She needs to be with someone that actually cares." Deb gave a long, spiteful look at her husband before she turned and left out of the kitchen again, the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut marking her exit.
"Dammit!!" Dan yelled as he slammed his fists on the table. His head down, he looked at the newspaper on the floor, the boldfaced, streaming headline staring back up at him, reading: "Local boy gunned down in cold blood."
Dan sighed, his face softening as he noticed the large picture of Lucas covering most of the page, the young man smiling brightly, happily.
Dan closed his eyes and walked away from the table and out of the kitchen and stood at the window of his living room, watching as Deb sped away in her car, down the long stretch of road and past all of the nice houses.