[fic] Luck Gandor Has Opinions
Luck has the worst Coming of Age story ever. pre-series. 791 words. Warnings for...well, Luck's choices in reading material and a mild amount of Claire.
"Claire?"
"Yeah?"
There was a spot under one of the overpasses where Claire liked to wait after storms, although Berga didn't believe Claire liked anything. Claire had a mean, empty face, everyone said. Luck thought it was just blank the way people's faces got when they thought about something and forgot other people were watching. Claire was always thinking. He just never told anyone what about. Claire liked watching the storm drains under the pass because it was a good place to be blank and thoughtful. That's what Luck figured. He took off his coat and sat next to Claire on the dirty concrete.
"If I die, they'll bury me right?" asked Luck.
It was the kind of question he couldn't ask his other brothers. Berga would just laugh in his face. Keith would give him his 'What are you? Stupid?' face. Claire's face never changed much. He kept his arms draped over his bent knees. His eye flicked towards Luck once, maybe. The rest of him didn't move.
"If you're rich, sure."
"You think they'll put me in a coffin?"
"Pop Gandor could afford it, yeah."
This wasn't what Luck wanted to hear. His clutched his coat and the book he'd folded into it so tight his knuckles blanched.
"Well..." he swallowed. "If I die and they put me in a coffin and they bury me could you kick me or something?"
Claire's eyes shifted back to him. "Eh?"
"Just one kick. Eh...twice works too. Maybe a knock on the head. Just so you know I'm not faking it."
"Why fake something like that?"
"I might just be sleeping funny," said Luck. "Nevermind that. Will you do it?"
'That's stupid' Berga would say. Keith would just Look at him. Claire said, "All right."
"You will?"
"Yeah."
"You're real sure?"
Now Claire turned towards him. He cocked his head. His arm shot out before Luck could react. He reached under his bunched coat. Next thing Luck knew, Claire held the book in his hand. He turned it, back to front.
"Edgar Allen Poe," Claire read off the spine, in a toneless voice. "So that's it."
Luck bit the inside of his cheek.
"Want to tell me the page?"
Luck told him. "Fall of the House of Usher." Claire flipped it open. His eyes darted over the words. Claire learned to read late but he'd learned fast. Luck sat tense beside him. After awhile, Claire said, "Huh." He stood, winding his arm back.
"No!" shouted Luck.
Claire blinked. "Then should I burn it?"
Luck shook his head.
The corner of Claire's mouth twisted. "You're complicated," he said, and sat back down. "It's not as bad as he makes it out to be." The blank look was back. Claire touched his cap. "Being buried alive, I mean."
He returned the book without looking at it. Luck bundled it back into the safety of his coat. "You know?"
"Sure," Claire ground his heel against the pavement. "It's kinda dark. And they don't always make sure you're right-side up when they dump you. So it's hard to figure out which sides up. But if you're broke and they do it without a coffin they don't try to pack you in real tight." He paused, thinking. "It's easier if they don't pack you in. 'Course, they bury you with real dead people, so you got to try and push them out of the way. Oh, and the dirt keeps going up your nose and mouth, so you're always trying to cough, but if you do more'll go up your nose and that can be tricky. But all you got to do is kinda shoulder your way up and you'll break out eventually. You just make sure you don't cough and you don't stop digging."
"Oh," said Luck.
"That help any?"
Luck threw his arms around Claire and shoved his face into the front of his shirt.
"...hey," said Claire in that dull, confused voice he got sometimes. Luck wasn't crying, really. It didn't count if no one saw any tears. Berga and Keith weren't around to knock him one for it.
"Hey," Claire said again. "You're real complicated. Just told you it's not that bad."
"Sorry," said Luck.
"What for?"
"Someone dumped you in a ditch."
"Wasn't you was it?"
There wasn't any point in explaining further than that. Luck pulled away, he swiped his face, quick. He looked all right. He wasn't going to do that again.
Claire looked at him sideways. "Hey," he said, quieter this time.
"Hey," said Luck.
"Want to watch me put the book in the icebox?"
Luck nodded. Claire wasn't mean. He tried the best he could and besides, it would have been just plain uncharitable to tell him no.
"Claire?"
"Yeah?"
There was a spot under one of the overpasses where Claire liked to wait after storms, although Berga didn't believe Claire liked anything. Claire had a mean, empty face, everyone said. Luck thought it was just blank the way people's faces got when they thought about something and forgot other people were watching. Claire was always thinking. He just never told anyone what about. Claire liked watching the storm drains under the pass because it was a good place to be blank and thoughtful. That's what Luck figured. He took off his coat and sat next to Claire on the dirty concrete.
"If I die, they'll bury me right?" asked Luck.
It was the kind of question he couldn't ask his other brothers. Berga would just laugh in his face. Keith would give him his 'What are you? Stupid?' face. Claire's face never changed much. He kept his arms draped over his bent knees. His eye flicked towards Luck once, maybe. The rest of him didn't move.
"If you're rich, sure."
"You think they'll put me in a coffin?"
"Pop Gandor could afford it, yeah."
This wasn't what Luck wanted to hear. His clutched his coat and the book he'd folded into it so tight his knuckles blanched.
"Well..." he swallowed. "If I die and they put me in a coffin and they bury me could you kick me or something?"
Claire's eyes shifted back to him. "Eh?"
"Just one kick. Eh...twice works too. Maybe a knock on the head. Just so you know I'm not faking it."
"Why fake something like that?"
"I might just be sleeping funny," said Luck. "Nevermind that. Will you do it?"
'That's stupid' Berga would say. Keith would just Look at him. Claire said, "All right."
"You will?"
"Yeah."
"You're real sure?"
Now Claire turned towards him. He cocked his head. His arm shot out before Luck could react. He reached under his bunched coat. Next thing Luck knew, Claire held the book in his hand. He turned it, back to front.
"Edgar Allen Poe," Claire read off the spine, in a toneless voice. "So that's it."
Luck bit the inside of his cheek.
"Want to tell me the page?"
Luck told him. "Fall of the House of Usher." Claire flipped it open. His eyes darted over the words. Claire learned to read late but he'd learned fast. Luck sat tense beside him. After awhile, Claire said, "Huh." He stood, winding his arm back.
"No!" shouted Luck.
Claire blinked. "Then should I burn it?"
Luck shook his head.
The corner of Claire's mouth twisted. "You're complicated," he said, and sat back down. "It's not as bad as he makes it out to be." The blank look was back. Claire touched his cap. "Being buried alive, I mean."
He returned the book without looking at it. Luck bundled it back into the safety of his coat. "You know?"
"Sure," Claire ground his heel against the pavement. "It's kinda dark. And they don't always make sure you're right-side up when they dump you. So it's hard to figure out which sides up. But if you're broke and they do it without a coffin they don't try to pack you in real tight." He paused, thinking. "It's easier if they don't pack you in. 'Course, they bury you with real dead people, so you got to try and push them out of the way. Oh, and the dirt keeps going up your nose and mouth, so you're always trying to cough, but if you do more'll go up your nose and that can be tricky. But all you got to do is kinda shoulder your way up and you'll break out eventually. You just make sure you don't cough and you don't stop digging."
"Oh," said Luck.
"That help any?"
Luck threw his arms around Claire and shoved his face into the front of his shirt.
"...hey," said Claire in that dull, confused voice he got sometimes. Luck wasn't crying, really. It didn't count if no one saw any tears. Berga and Keith weren't around to knock him one for it.
"Hey," Claire said again. "You're real complicated. Just told you it's not that bad."
"Sorry," said Luck.
"What for?"
"Someone dumped you in a ditch."
"Wasn't you was it?"
There wasn't any point in explaining further than that. Luck pulled away, he swiped his face, quick. He looked all right. He wasn't going to do that again.
Claire looked at him sideways. "Hey," he said, quieter this time.
"Hey," said Luck.
"Want to watch me put the book in the icebox?"
Luck nodded. Claire wasn't mean. He tried the best he could and besides, it would have been just plain uncharitable to tell him no.