[ WP ] It was a tale told a hundred times , but this time , something unexpected happened .

Luke sat at his computer. The keys were slicked from the oil of one too many cheetos, his right hand moving the mouse sporadically along its pad while his left tapped the same four keys over and over. His eyes were focused on the game, leaving only momentarily to move toward his bag of chips or reach for his mountain dew. He would bring it to his lips with his eyes focused on the screen until there was a knock at the door and even then they just glanced up before returning their focus to his game. 
 
 When it was over Luke brought the back of his hand up to his forehead and wiped away the sweat from his adrenaline. There was a knock on his door. His mother opened it without asking, as she always did. 
 
 `` Luke, come on. It's time to go to school.'' 
 
 `` Not going. I'm sick today,'' Luke gave a halfhearted cough. His mother sighed, moving inside his room with her arms crossed and standing against his wall so that he could just see her out of his peripheral vision. 
 
 `` Luke, this is n't a conversation. You're going to school. Change out of those sweatpants and wash your face and go to school.'' 
 
 `` I'm sick.'' 
 
 `` Then we're seeing the doctor.'' 
 
 Luke groaned, pressing his head back. His temple was already bulging. He had n't slept the night before, planning to stay up all night and tire his mother out by claiming he was sick. `` Fine, I'll go see the stupid doctor.'' 
 
 `` And you're not using your computer all day.'' 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 `` You heard me. No computer. If you're sick you can stay in bed and read and catch up on some of the homework that you've missed.'' 
 
 `` Mom, that's not fair.'' Luke felt his face begin to heat up. This had not been part of the plan. 
 
 `` And you'll stay in the downstairs bedroom while you do it. No computer in there. No phone games. Just your homework or a book. Or you can watch a DVD and & mdash;'' 
 
 `` I *need* my computer to do homework,'' Luke whined. 
 
 `` No you do n't,'' his mother said. `` Now go wash your face and change and I'm taking you to school.'' 
 
 Luke made his way down the hallway, adjusting himself as he went. By the time he reached the bathroom his breath was labored and heavy. He stood looking at himself in the mirror - at his pimply face and his greasy hair and his perpetually neon-orange fingertips. He could see the outline of his hand on his groin, the sweat that built along his neckline and stained his shirt, the yellow that gathered under his armpits. His nostrils flared as he looked down, turning on the sink and washing his face. *It's not like it will help with the stupid acne, * he thought. Nothing he did seemed to help with that. *Fucking ugly piece of dirt. * 
 
 Luke hated school. The desks were n't big enough for his gut, and he was always acutely aware of how it spilled over onto the desk. He wore his hat low over his eyes to hide his greasy hair until his teachers told him to take it off. He would, feeling his cheeks boiling as what felt like every pair of eyes turned to him. 
 
 There was a girl at school named Monica who Luke had a crush on. They had biology together, and she was one of the only people who had ever been nice to him. She was one of those popular girls, with perfect makeup and up to date fashion sense. When he faked sick so many days she would keep his homework assignments together and give them to him. 
 
 He was in love with her. He opened doors for her and called her *m'lady* to make her feel special. He treated her like the Queen he was because Luke knew that Monica saw him for who he really was. Sometimes he would bring her small gifts - little flowers that he had picked from trees or origami swans that he had made. She always seemed to appreciate them. 
 
 That day at school she came up to him after biology. 
 
 `` Hey, Luke. I picked up your homework assignments from the last few days. You okay? You've been out a lot.'' 
 
 `` Yeah, I'm fine,'' Luke said. He tipped his fedora to Monica in a way of thanks. She smiled and turned away. 
 
 `` Hey, Monica,'' Luke swallowed. *She's not going to say yes. What are you doing? What are you doing? * `` I... I know we do n't talk much. But. Well. I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime. If you want to get coffee or something. I'm a really nice guy, you'll see if you get to know me. I'll buy you stuff and & mdash;'' 
 
 `` Oh Luke, I'm sorry. I have a boyfriend. I thought you knew, I just & mdash;'' 
 
 `` Know, I know. I know. But he does n't treat you well. He could n't treat you as well as I'd treat you, Monica. You know that. He does n't give you the attention you deserve.'' 
 
 Monica looked down to the floor. `` I've been with Sam for three years, Luke. I'm sorry, but the answer is no.'' 
 
 Luke felt his face flush. `` Why not? You're always flirting with me, giving me my homework and taking those little presents I give you. You act totally in to me but I guess you do n't want to be seen with me, huh? You're embarrassed by me. But the truth is I'd treat you better than Sam ever will. I'd be the best thing that happened to you in your life.'' 
 
 Monica's smile had vanished. `` The best thing that happened to me in my life was my little brother beating cancer.'' Her voice was cold. `` You think you *deserve* me because I bring you homework and you're a nice guy? You just tried to convince me to leave my boyfriend of three years. Screw you.'' 
 
 Luke put his head down on the desk after she left, feeling a single tear fall down his cheek. *Why do n't I ever get anything that I want? * he thought. 
 
 Somewhere in France the world's tiniest violin was playing. 
 
 -- - 
 
 [ Surprise ] ( # s `` There was no surprise.'' ) 

