Old Records for Withered Souls

Tree Hill is just a place somewhere in the world. Maybe it's a lot like your world. Maybe it's nothing like it. But if you look closer, you might see someone like you. Lucas Scott and his half-brother Nathan return to their old ways when they'd first met

 

Chapter One

Old Records For Withered Souls

“Q, just go for the three pointer,” Lucas Scott advised, checking the scoreboard for the time. He glanced back at his brother Nathan, and the assistant coach, Skills. They were too busy looking at the scoreboard. The Tree Hill Ravens—once an amazing basketball team in North Carolina—had slowly gone back to their ways. Lucas frowned, thinking the Ravens had only reconverted because of him. If they’d had Whitey Durham back on the coaching position, the Ravens would at least look organized. He snapped out of his reverie when Q muttered something.

 

            “What?”

 

            “I said what if I get double teamed?”

 

            Before Lucas could answer, Nathan grabbed Q’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Then you charge through and take it to the hoop. Understand?” Q nodded, snatched the ball from the referee’s withered hands, and waited for him to blow the whistle.

 

            The ball shot from his hands and landed in Kyle’s. Q raced toward the foul line and Kyle passed him the ball.

 

            “SHOOT THE DAMN BALL, Q!” Nathan shouted from the sidelines, just as Q hopped up and shot. Time froze as the ball soared toward the net. No one moved. No one spoke. Not even the babies of mothers made a sound. The buzzer went off, vibrating in the back of Lucas’s head. The orange ball smacked into the backboard, bounced onto the rim, rolled…and fell onto the gym floor. Luke noticed Nathan go for Q, but he grabbed his shoulder and hauled him into the locker room, throwing him into his office.

           

            “What the hell was that?!” Lucas shouted at his half-brother.

 

            “He blew it!” Nathan swore.  “We were this,” he held up his index finger and his thumb and put them together so that they were two inches apart, “close to winning the championship game!”

 

            Lucas stared at Nathan with a look if disbelief on his face, “Do you have any idea who you sound like right now?”

 

            “You on a bad day,” Nathan shot back angrily.

 

            “No, Nate. You sound like Dan.”

 

            The words stung his little and Luke knew it. The fist that accelerated toward his face and connected with his cheek stung more. At that moment, Q burst into the office.

 

            He threw up his hands, eyes widening, and backed away. “I’ll see you at practice, Coach,” he said, and left the locker room.

 

            Nate threw another punch at Lucas, but Lucas avoided it and shoved him against the wall, pinning him there.

 

            “No matter how much you look like Dan, you’re not him,” Lucas shouted. He released Nathan, who brushed him aside and exited the office. Lucas stared at his back as he walked away, wondering how true his statement really was.

 

***

            “Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer, get the—” Brooke Davis stopped when she saw Peyton on the bed, headphones blasting in her ears, and her eyes staring intently at her sketchbook. Paper was scattered everywhere around her bedroom. Brooke stooped down and looked at one of the pieces of paper. It was a drawing of Lucas, Peyton, and herself with shotguns, shooting at a brick wall.

 

            “I can’t do it, Brooke,” Peyton said miserably, throwing the sketchbook at the wall. It landed with a thump as it hit the floor.

 

            “Peyton, what are you talking about?” Brooke folded the piece of paper up and stuffed it in her jeans pocket. “I thought you quit drawing,” she added, sitting on the bed and looking at her friend.

 

            “I’m talking about the way Lucas writes, the way Nathan plays basketball, the way you have Clothes Over Bro’s, Haley’s music, and Mia’s success. Hell, I’m even jealous of Chris Keller! That’s what I want with my drawings, Brooke. I want to change somebody’s life. I want to be so inspiring that if a person were to look at my drawings they’d never look at art the same way again. I can’t, Brooke. I’m done. I’m done with drawing, I’m done with Lucas, and I’m done with Tree Hill.”

 

            “You can’t mean that!” Brooke exclaimed. “You can’t do that!”

 

            “Oh yeah? Watch me,” Peyton said. She grabbed a duffel bag from the closet, unzipped it, and tossed it on to the bed. She grabbed an armful of CDs and piled them in the various pockets, then gathered clothes and placed them inside, along with her laptop, phone charger, and tooth brush. Brooke noticed that Peyton had left the sketchbook on the floor. The front door slammed shut, followed by a car engine starting, and blaring music.

 

            Brooke scooped up the sketchbook and stared at the page. The page read, in huge yellow letters: “You’re my sunlight and my lover.” The drawing was of her and Lucas. Her and Lucas at a wedding: Brooke’s wedding.

 

 

***

            “What do you mean he punched you?” Haley James Scott asked, stopped wiping down the counters of Karen’s Café to listen.

 

            “I mean punched me,” Lucas repeated, making a punching motion. Haley rolled her eyes at him, and went back to wiping the counters.  She handed him a biscotti, then poured two cups of coffee and handed him one.

 

            “So, what did you say to make him so ticked off?” Haley asked, sitting next to him and taking a sip of coffee.

 

            “I told him he sounded like Dan,” Luke admitted. “I figured he’d calm down, but he just got even more pissed and left.” He looked into his coffee, only to see his moping and miserable reflection staring back at him. “I don’t know where he went,” he added.

 

            “Lucas Eugene Scott, I swear if my husband ends up going to the bar and getting thrown out another window—” Haley tossed the cleaning rag at the window. “What on earth possessed you to say something like that to your brother?”

 

            “He tried to hurt Q, Haley! I couldn’t stand by and let him hurt our shooting guard!” Lucas defended himself.

 

            “Just like you couldn’t stand by and watched when I tutored him. Get out, Lucas,” said Haley derisively.

 

            “Hales—” Luke started.

 

            Haley James Scott was already walking away, she shut out the lights, and left her best friend surrounded in the darkness of Karen’s Café. Lucas frowned as he watched his friend depart. His reflection still stared back at him, even in the pitch blackness of the café. A tune played in the back of his head, an all too familiar tune—like old records for withered souls.

Author's Note

A friend of mine wanted me to broaden my horizons a bit. So, I figured I'd write a fan-fiction about one of my favorite television shows: One Tree Hill.
Be rough with it guys, this is the first time I've ever stepped away from the fantasy genre, and I want to see which one works out better.