Lucas skimmed Brooke's site and was surprised to see that she had made a new comment. As always, they were quick and filled with light, fluffy subject matter. Lucas wondered if it was Brooke even writing or if it was just some webmaster or hired hand. Lucas was interested in the new shoes she had purchased from Saks or any of the other superficial stuff she seemed to love to talk about. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know the important stuff. He wanted to know the real Brooke Davis.

"Who died?"

Lucas looked up in time to see his father, Dan, waltzing through the door.

"That's a nice comment to make to someone in the hospital", Lucas rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, son but aren't the flowers a little…excessive and slightly feminine?"

"People are just trying to be nice. Besides, Mom would have a fit if I threw them out."

"Ah, Karen Rowe, the Mary Poppins of Tree Hill."

"Watch it", Lucas half heartedly mumbled. "So, what are you doing here, man?"

"I came here to get a break from Deb's nagging first and foremost and to see you, too."

"Thanks", Luke rolled his eyes.

"So what do you say, son? Let's get out of here for a while."

Lucas eyed his father.

"Dude, are you blind? Where am I going? I can't even feel my toes."

"Wah, wah, quit your whining crybaby. We can get the wheelchair in here and help you in and…"

"What? Go wheeling from one end of the hall to the next? Gee, sounds like fun Dan but I'll have to pass on this one."

"Fine. Stay here and feel sorry for yourself all you want."

"I plan to."

"At least tell me you're glued to that stupid laptop for a good reason. I hope you're keeping up on scores and stats."

If he only knew.

"Nope."

"Then what are you doing? Every time I call or come over, you're on that thing."

"I am surfing for gay midget porn, it is my newest obsession, you know", Lucas teased.

"Very funny. My son is a comedian. Anyway, you should be searching sites for information on the Wheelchair Olympics. They have basketball tourneys and…"

Lucky for Dan Lucas couldn't move his leg or else the younger man would surely have shoved a foot up his Old Man's ass. Some people just didn't know when to quit.

"Dan! Damn, I'm not doing any Wheelchair Olympics, alright? Look, just give it up. Nathan dropped out and now I'm a crip so you can give up any hope of having a future NBA star in the family. Sorry to disappoint you."

"You're not disappointing me, son. I think you're disappointing yourself", Dan smirked as only he could. "And don't count out your Old Man's dream just yet."

"Really?"

"Really. I don't know if you know it or not, but that Brittany has a hell of a jump shot."

"Britt?"

"Yes. You should see her. She loves the game so Haley, by the way, not the sharpest knife in the drawer, bought her one of those cheap, plastic Fisher Price things. No grandchild of mine. So I took the liberty of buying her a baby Defender."

"A Defender?"

"Regulation sized back board, heavy support pole, adjustable system for maximum performance custom made."

"Dan! Those hoops cost over three grand!"

"So? Money is no object."

"But Britt is two years old!"

"They're never too young to start. Besides, it builds character and discipline. Idle hands are the Devil's work."

"And you happen to be an expert on the Devils' work", Lucas shook his head.

Poor Brittany. Deep down Dan meant well and in his own Dan Scott way loved his sons and granddaughter. Lucas just prayed Nathan and Haley were strong enough to protect little Brittany from too much of her grandfather's influence.

Lucas tried to tune out the noise as Dan went on and on about everything from basketball to his dealership to his latest argument with Deb. He was pretending to listen, nodding ever so often as if he were truly paying attention but his real focus was on the laptop screen. Glancing at it, he saw something that nearly sent him into cardiac arrest. Luke's hands became weak and a high pitched but muffled cry emitted from his mouth.

"Luke, son, are you okay?" Dan shouted as he rushed over to him. "What happened? Are you in pain? Do you need the doctor?"

"No, no, I'm fine, man...sorry. I…um..."

"Let me guess, what happened on the Internet?"

"Internet?" Lucas tried to play it off. "What are you talking about? I…I just had an arm spasm, that's all."

"Arm spasm?" Dan questioned with one raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, arm spasm. Yeah, that's it."

"I see", Dan smirked knowingly. "Well, I will leave you and your arm spasms and gay midgets alone. Besides, I have to get home to that stuff on the kitchen table your step mother likes to call dinner."

Lucas grinned and waved, ecstatic when the door shut and he was finally alone. His hands were shaking so badly he didn't know what to do. There on Brooke Davis' official board was the untitled poem Lucas had written weeks before, on display for the entire world to see.

It was stupid really. He didn't even know why he had done it. Win A Date With Brooke Davis was the gimmick but what really interested Lucas was the poetry writing. He loved to read and was a big fan of all sorts of literature. He had enjoyed reading poetry all his life but that was his first time actually trying to write it. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think someone would even see it, much less post it and declare him the winner. Luke's words, the poem he had made up in a matter of minutes, had made him the winner of a date with Savannah Spaulding.

Trapped, and frightened I feel so alone,

Tired and cranky, I yearn for home.

So many things to say, better off unsaid,

Many tears threaten, but they've long ago been shed.

I look through the computer screen and see a frightened little girl,

Sad and confused, discarded by the world.

I feel what she is feeling and I envision what she sees,

Even more disturbing, the window is a mirror…the girl is as lonely as me.

I am that lost soul, that stolen innocence they write about. You are the girl and I am the boy in the poem.

Lucas cringed as he read it. It had seemed so much better when he first composed the words, now that any and everybody could read it, critique it, and dissect it, now it just seemed...corny. Lucas rolled his eyes and cursed to himself. His cheeks burned a deep crimson and he felt like the whole world would know he was the mystery author even though he had used the screen man "Lonely Boy". Even then, he felt dumb. How stupid did that sound? But at least it would serve his purpose and protect his identity. Biting his lip, he quickly shut down the laptop. He didn't know what to do. He hadn't really wanted a date with Brooke Davis and never thought he would win one. And he certainly wasn't going in his condition. He didn't know what he had hoped to accomplish, but whatever it was, he wished he'd never wrote that stupid poem.