Текст книги "The Stillburrow Crush"

Автор книги: Linda Kage

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Chapter Three

The next day right after lunch, I walked into Getty's General with a shopping list and a letter gripped in my hand. During church, Pastor Curry had talked about the sins of the father. There was an empty spot in the pew next to me and every time the door would open, admitting a latecomer, Mom would peer around me to get a look at who entered. But Marty never showed. So there I was, standing in the general store with Mom's hastily thought-up list and a note for my brother.

I couldn't get you-know-who out of my head. So when Mom commissioned me to go pseudo-grocery shopping for her, I was more than ready for the distraction. Luke didn't attend the same church we did. He went to the chapel on Main Street. So I didn't have to worry about getting stuck staring at the back of his head during the service or anything. But that didn't stop me from thinking about him. By this time, I had come up with a plausible reason why he had visited me the day before. It must've been because of what I'd called him in the paper. He didn't want to be referred to as Lucas, so he'd come to my house and made sure I wouldn't do it again. That had to be the reason, right?

But that didn't explain why he'd asked me to walk in the park with him. We'd discussed the whole Lucas bit before he'd asked for that stroll. So why had he asked? I was back at the beginning again. Biting my lip, I thought about it harder. 40

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And then the explanation finally came to me. He'd been buttering me up. Luke probably thought if he was extra nice to me, if he took a walk with me and fluttered his pretty-boy lashes a few times, I'd be less likely to call him Lucas again. And it'd worked. I'd slipped right into his clever scheme—for a minute there anyway.

But Jill and Liz driving by had ruined his strategy. If he'd been caught in the park with me, his reputation would've taken a severe nosedive. He had no choice but to move quickly and dodge in front of me. He'd succeeded in blocking me out of the way. No one knew I'd been there with him. But now I was onto his game. If only I were stupid, he could've had me in complete adoration of him by now, right where he wanted me, and thus I would never bad-mouth him in The Central Record again.

It was a low blow for me, but very clever of him. Too bad I was smarter. And too bad I still felt butterflies in my stomach every time I thought of him. I wish I could've hated him completely and been done with it. Instead, I felt betrayed and hurt.

I unfolded Mom's list and read the contents: milk, eggs, and flour. It wasn't too original, so I slipped a pen out of my pocket and scrawled in chocolate almond ice cream at the bottom.

Hey, if I was being forced to do her dirty work, I might as well get paid for it.

The store was fairly dead. It was open only from noon to five on Sundays and that was for just-in-case items, like someone needing extra potatoes for their Sunday dinner. The 41

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sheriff's wife, Mrs. Bates, was shopping as I started up the produce aisle to get to the milk and the eggs in the back. The store was small, only four rows wide, so I had my list completed within the minute. Marty was at the checkout line talking to Abby Eggrow. She'd been working there about as long as he had and was showing up to school in a lot of new outfits since she'd started.

She smiled up at my brother, blushed and tucked a straight lock of hair behind her ear. Marty was half sitting on the end of the conveyer belt with one foot still on the tiled floor and one folded under him. He had a Blow Pop stick poking out of his mouth and there was a bulge in his cheek where the sucker was stashed.

He was tall and skinny as all get out, with a thirty-eight inch inseam to his Wrangler jeans. He had the same pale blond hair I did. But his neck was longer and his Adam's apple jutted out noticeably. I suppose if I wasn't his sister and didn't know he was an idiot, I might say he was attractive. Lots of girls said he looked like Leonardo DiCaprio. I thought that was stretching it. But sometimes when he wasn't bugging me, he didn't look too bad.

When he saw me he didn't stand, he just transferred the lollypop from one side of his cheek to the other.

"Hey, brat."

Abby's head spun around and her face went beet red, as if she'd been caught in the back seat of a car with him over at the camping ground—which was the major make-out spot for all Stillburrow teenagers.

"Hi, Carrie," she said.

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If I kept a notebook of firsts, I'd have to scribble down her

"Hi, Carrie, " as the first time Abby Eggrow ever voluntarily spoke to me.

"Ready for the big test in history tomorrow?" she asked. Another first. Abby smiling and asking me a question, instead of treating me like I was invisible. I wondered if the apocalypse had begun.

For the sake of my brother, I pushed all rude thoughts out of my brain and nodded politely to her. I told her, in my most respectful tone, that I wasn't ready for the test at all. History with Mr. Decker was not my strong point. Neither was trigonometry for that matter. But Abby always seemed to know what questions would be on all the history tests. So on a crazy whim, I invited her to come over after supper and maybe help me study.

I never asked people to my house. And Abby Eggrow wouldn't have been my first choice. But asking her over would be like inviting Marty as well. And a little discomfort at having a guest would surely be overridden by my duty to my parents in coercing Marty to come and visit them.

Or maybe I just liked to stir the pot.

"Oh...uh, sorry, but I can't," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "I'm going to the movies in Paulbrook tonight. But I've heard Mr. Decker asks a lot of questions about Appomattox Court House."

I had no idea what the Appomattox Court House was and made a mental note to find out.

Abby ran me through the checkout line and I paid with the bill Mom had given me. Then Mrs. Bates, by the cleaning 43

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supplies, called for help. As Abby glided off to assist the sheriff's wife, I turned to Marty and watched him double bag the ice cream.

"Got a letter for you," I said. He stopped bagging and glanced up. "From Mom," I added and slid the envelope down the conveyer belt to him. His shoulders deflated a little but he grabbed it up and pulled out the letter as well as a twentydollar bill. He jammed the money into his pocket with one hand and unfolded the note with his other. His eyebrows instantly rose. "Walking in the park with Luke Carter, huh?"

I clenched my teeth and folded my arms over my chest, refusing to show any embarrassment or shock. Mom hadn't said anything to me last night. She hadn't even let on that she'd known at all.

Dad must've told her.

I tried to ignore the heat rising to my face and shrugged with one lazy shoulder. "I wrote an article about Homecoming for the paper, featuring the coach and quarterback." Then I got angry with myself, wondering why I was trying to explain it to Marty.

"Uh-huh. I read it." He snorted the name Lucas under his breath and went back to reading Mom's note. "And helping out the old man in the shop too? You've been a busy girl, brat."

"I wouldn't have to help him if you'd come home," I said between my teeth, since I couldn't seem to get them unclenched.

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He glanced up once with a quick scowl, then back down and finished the letter. "And tell Mom I can't make it for supper." He shot a quick glance toward Abby. When he looked back at me, he was stuffing the letter into his back pocket. He wiggled his eyebrows. "I'm going to the movies tonight." My arms unfolded and my hands ground into my hips.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" He frowned and I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "She's only eighteen."

"Only?" He laughed and tugged on my hair. "That's over a year older than you."

"And five years too young for you!" He pulled back. "So what? Dad's seven years older than Mom."

My mouth fell open. "It's that serious, then? You're thinking marriage?"

"No!" He backed away from the counter and ripped the lollypop out of his mouth. "It's just a date. Nothing serious."

"Then why're you fooling around with her in the first place?" I said, lowering my voice even more. "She's leaving in a year to get a real life. What do you have to offer her, Marty? A stock boy's salary? It looks pretty worthless to me. I mean, the whole relationship is going nowhere right from the beginning."

He scoffed and pointed the lollypop at my head. "Well, aren't you the pot calling the kettle black? Or have you already forgotten about your little stroll with Luke Carter?" My jaw felt tight. I took a second to gather my thoughts. OK, I was just trying to cool my temper because I wanted to hit him—bad. If he hadn't mentioned Luke, I might've been 45

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able to sniff and walk off. But since I was still sore about Mr. Carter, I had to strike back. When I felt clear I spoke, my voice cool.

"Excuse me," I said, "but I am not, nor will I ever, go to the movies with Luke Carter. I'm not stupid like you. The only reason he came to see me yesterday was to yell at me for putting his full name in the paper."

Marty wasn't buying it, though. "He had to hold your hand for that?" he taunted.

If there were ever a moment I could've killed my parents, that would've been it. I felt my face flame red. Dad must've watched the entire episode of Luke and me in the park. But would he have mentioned the hand-holding part to Mom? And would Mom have put it in her letter to Marty? I seriously doubted it, so I took my chances and called his bluff.

"He did not," I said with force. "Mom didn't put that in your letter. You made it up."

I knew he'd made it up when he leaned over the counter and snickered. "I bet you wanted him to, though."

"No, not at all," I announced, primly raising my chin a notch as if to say I considered myself too good for the likes of Luke Carter. "I'm too smart to fall for a pretty face." I glanced over to where Abby was still chatting with Mrs. Bates. "Tell me, Marty. Is she as enlightening to talk to as she is to stare at? Or do you not bother with conversation?"

"Shut up," he said, and glanced away.

"Does her dad know?" I watched his face go noticeably paler. "I'm sure Principal Eggrow would just love the idea of 46

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his daughter dating the boy who tried to break the record for most detentions."

"Carrie." His voice was low, hard and spoken through unmoving lips. He turned to stare evil beams at me. "It's none of your business. Back off."

Behind us, the front door of the store opened. The bell jingled above it but Marty and I continued to have our stand off. I was sure my expression matched the glaring-eyes, pointed-chin, flaring-nostrils look Marty had.

"You didn't tell her you're the one who dubbed her dear father Mr. Egghead, did you?" I said.

"No. But I told her that last year you taped up pictures of her cousin Rick on the walls of your bedroom."

"Arg! You're such a jerk." I dug my index finger into his chest. He pushed it away with the back his hand. "Go ahead and make a fool of yourself over Abby. I really don't care what you do with her. But why don't you just come home once in a while?"

He rolled his eyes. "Are we back to that again?"

"Well, yeah. That's what I'm doing here in the first place." Marty sighed and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

"Come on, now," he said, and rubbed his eyes as if he were tired. "I'm too old to be living at home. It was time." I laughed at him with a kind of snort. "I'm not talking about moving back in, bonehead. Heck, I'm glad you're gone and not hogging the bathroom every morning. I'm talking about visits, calls, e-mails, or a message to let Mom and Dad know you're still alive. Sometimes Mom asks me if I heard the phone ring in the other room when the house is perfectly 47

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quiet. Now tell me, Marty. Why isn't it ringing? How hard can it be to dial seven little digits? What's so difficult about dropping by for five minutes? It's only four blocks away."

"I have a phone too," he said, "and I never hear it ring."

"Because they think you want to be left alone." I felt like kicking as well as hitting him at this point, just to pound some sense into his void of a head. "Because they think they're respecting your privacy. Quit acting so selfish and stubborn. Make the first move. And quit being such a moron." I slapped a hand over my mouth. My voice had raised a few decibels too high.

I glanced around. Abby and Mrs. Bates had stopped talking and were staring down the aisle at us.

Marty had murder in his eyes as he glared at me. His hands shook as he fisted them at his sides. "Fine," he said.

"I'll call her sometime."

I wanted to scream at him. Throw my fists. He looked mad, not sorry or remorseful. Where was the regret? How could he not care? Our parents weren't that terrible. They were strict and old fashioned, yes, but they were fair, and never once had they hidden their love and support for us. They had their faults but what parent didn't? I couldn't understand why he was being so cruel. I used to know him so well, but not anymore.

"Fine," I repeated, and spun away fully intending to stride off with my head held high. But there stood Luke Carter. He was barely inside the store, huddled next to the closed front door, looking awkward and uncomfortable at walking in during the middle of our "family scene." 48

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My heart did a little skip. He was wearing his church clothes: a pale gray, long-sleeved, button-up shirt with a blue tie that had maroon diamonds running in diagonal lines down the front. His shirt was tucked into darker gray, almost charcoal, pleated pants. I could tell he'd shaved since the day before because his jaw was smooth and naked. He looked sleek and expensive and flawless.

I wanted to run and attack him too. I wanted to beat on his chest and demand, "Why'd you hurt me yesterday? Why'd you have to ask me for that stupid walk?" But then he peered into my eyes, holding his face and his body still. And those eyes of his—those all-too-expressive eyes that crinkled softly—held sadness and compassion. I blinked away a sudden stinging, lowered my head, and began to retreat.

"You forgot your groceries," Marty called. I paused, keeping my back to him and said, "Why don't you bring them home. That way, you can tell Mom yourself, you're not coming for supper."

Then I walked toward the exit. Luke was still there, half blocking my escape. I mumbled an "Excuse me" and he hurried aside—even opened the door for me. Above us, the bell rang. The sound echoed through my heartbeat. I brushed against Luke's crisp gray sleeve and felt the crinkle of fabric on my elbow. The contact rustled up his smell of clean soap and Right Guard aftershave, a brand that Dad often used. It was familiar, yet disturbingly new and fresh.

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I inhaled as much as I could before I was outside and the door closed between us. His smell was washed away, replaced by the chilly autumn and the aroma of dead leaves burning in front yards.

I walked home empty-handed, feeling as lonely as I ever had. I wanted to strangle my brother, but I also wanted to know why I had to feel so defenseless and exposed toward Luke. I wanted to know why he came to visit me at the lot, why he wanted to walk with me in the park, but didn't want to be seen with me. I wasn't that bad of a person. I was by no means popular in school, but I wasn't a total dork. If I could've paid to get inside his head, I would've stolen money to do so. Instead, I understood nothing. I was angry, confused, lost, excited and scared. I felt all those mixed emotions band my chest, closing snug around my lungs, and I wanted to climb out of my own body so I could escape all the overwhelming sensations.

Too bad I'd left the ice cream behind and couldn't even binge away my misery.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Four

Turns out Appomattox Court House wasn't a what but a where. Appomattox Court House, Virginia was the name of the town where the Civil War ended. It was where Robert E. Lee, leading the South, met up with Ulysses S. Grant, leading the North. On April 9, 1865, Lee and Grant stood face-to-face in the McLean home and reunited the country, ending the Southern attempt to secede and stopping a war that had already cost more American lives than any other war the United States had fought. What had once been a town, and only the county seat for Appomattox County in Virginia, was now a national park and a legend.

After reading about Appomattox Court House, my mind began to wander. Lying stomach down on my bed, I rested my chin on my hands, stuck my feet in the air, and absorbed the story. I had a layout to put together for the paper and should've forged ahead with that, but I was suddenly very glad Abby had mentioned Appomattox Court House to me. The mysteries behind this town were fascinating. I was curious to find out how such a huge war could end in this small place, which was basically in the middle of nothing. If I'd been alive back in the 1860s, I'm sure my investigative journalism would've taken me right to Appomattox Court House.

This was where it'd all ended, where the dramatic climax of the war came to a head. If Lee hadn't surrendered or if 51

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Grant hadn't been civil, things would've turned out differently. The country might not have been united as one any longer. If I'd been alive, I would've gone to Mr. McLean himself, and quizzed him till his throat was raw. I would've inspected every inch of his farm and the whole town. I mean, it was nothing major, not a capitol or even booming with population. It wasn't an important city at all. It was a "nowhere" just like Stillburrow. And look at what it had become. It made me think all the nowheres and even the nobodies of the world might stand a chance after all. Suddenly, I felt an uncommon connection with the town in which I lived. It was like I was Stillburrow...in a way. I barely noticed the phone ringing in the other room—

maybe because it only got in one ring before Mom snatched it up. I flipped the page of my history book and stared at the picture of the two-story red building where papers had been signed to end the Civil War. I wondered what it would feel like to flip through a history book and see my childhood home on one of these pages were I to ever become famous.

"Carrie?"

I looked up as Mom entered my room with the telephone in her hand. "It's for you," she said. Her eyes held a strange glow.

I wasn't a socialite. I didn't waste time on the telephone and I didn't have any close friends who would bother calling. I knew it couldn't be Marty. He wouldn't want to talk to me. It might be my cousin, Jordan, on the Burke side. She lived with her mother in Paulbrook and we sometimes hung out when she visited her dad every other weekend. But she wasn't 52

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around this weekend. I figured it might be my buddy, E.T. But I didn't know what he would want. I only talked to him at school.

Before I could ask though, Mom put her hand over the speaker end of the phone and mouthed two words: Luke. Carter.

I could feel my thoughts drain as the blood rushed out of my head. I took the phone. It felt heavy in my hand, weighing like bricks. I stared at the phone as if it were some kind of UFO. This had to be a mistake. But then Mom was pushing it to my ear. She gave me the go-ahead wink. I sent her a Well, leave me alone look and she nodded, quickly backing out of the room. When the door quietly clicked shut behind her, I licked my dry lips. My mouth was so close to the receiver, I could almost taste the plastic it was made of. I sat up and quickly brushed my hair out of my face. I glanced down at my clothing and then stopped, realizing he couldn't see what I looked like.

Finally, I decided I could talk.

"Hello?" I heard my own voice echo along the fiber optic wires. It sounded weird and distant, like I hadn't said it at all but like some kind of echoing radio speaker had spoken for me.

Why in the world was he calling me? I thought I'd never hear from him again after what happened in the park. When Luke spoke, I knew this was really happening, though. It was definitely his voice.

"Did he bring the groceries home?" 53

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I could tell he was smiling by the amused inflection in his voice. He was relaxed, probably on his bed, leaning back against the pillows with his feet stretched out in front of him, legs crossed at the ankles. He wouldn't be wearing his gray church suit anymore but maybe some windbreaker pants and an old cleaned-up practice shirt—white with grass stains on the elbows and a red brave printed across his chest.

"What?" I asked. I shook my head and tried to get the image of Luke Carter sprawled across his bed out of my brain.

"Your brother," he said. "You told him to bring the groceries home. I was just wondering if he ever got around to it."

"Um." I sucked in a breath, hoping it would help bring oxygen back to my brain. "No. He never did."

"Really? And here I was certain he would. I know I definitely would've if you'd laid into me like that." My mouth fell open. Had Luke Carter just said what I heard him say? Of all the rude things.

"I did not lay into him!"

"Oh, yes you did." I could hear him laughing. "I felt sorry for the poor guy. If that's how you usually treat him, I can't blame him for moving out."

Stunned motionless by his words, I instantly retorted,

"Marty deserved everything I told him."

"Sure. Just like I deserved your attack yesterday, right?" I could hear him sigh. It sounded like he was stretching out in a hot tub. "You know what I'm beginning to think about you, Carrie Paxton? I think you just like to fight." 54

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I gave a little cry of denial. "You're the one that called and attacked me."

"But it was way too easy to egg you on. So, thank you."

"If you thought that was...Huh? Thank you? Thanks for what?"

"I'll see you in school tomorrow. Bye, Carrie."

"Wait a second."

I thought he'd already hung up, but then he came back.

"Hmm? Did you say something?"

"You're dang right I did. What was all that about?"

"You seemed fresh full of fighting today." I pictured him shrugging and flashing his dimple. "Just thought I'd get my jab in."

Luke sounded like he was having fun. I could tell he wasn't mad or bitter. He was purposely baiting me for his own amusement. I frowned.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, and waited for an answer, thumping my foot on the carpet. Luke took his time to respond and I said, "Well?"

Just when I thought I knew what he was about, he went and changed things. My life felt like it was getting crazier and crazier. First I made the mistake of thinking I had a crush on Luke Carter. Then he came to walk in the park with me. And just when I was thinking maybe he liked me back, he hid me to make sure no one saw me with him. And now. Now he was calling me on the phone?

When he spoke, he said it carefully, "I'm not sure what you mean."

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"I mean—" I gritted my teeth as I spoke, "what do you mean by calling me?"

"Huh?"

The cry I let out was from pure frustration. Suddenly, I wished Luke Carter was standing right in front of me. So I could choke him. "Just shut up and answer me." He laughed. It was a husky chuckle and made my stomach tighten. "But how am I supposed to answer if I shut up?"

"Oh my God." I groaned and rubbed at my suddenly aching temples. I had the urge to cry. "Why'd you call me?" I sighed, feeling defeated. "Why'd you come to my Dad's shop yesterday? Why'd you want to walk in the park with me?" When he was quiet, I went on. "I haven't got a clue what's going on in your mind. But I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want anyone to know we're on the phone right now, just like you didn't want Jill and Liz to see us in the park together. But by calling me, you've really got my mom stirred up. She's probably already got us married off with three kids and a dog named Sparky by now. So why don't you just tell me what you want and leave me alone? Or better yet, just leave me alone."

I thought it was a good speech. I was proud of myself for staying so calm as I delivered it. And I thought it shot straight to the heart of this ever-so-confusing conversation. But what does Mr. Carter say to ruin it all?

He said, "Are you always this honest?" I thumped my forehead against the palm of my head.

"Yes!" I'd never been able to lie in my life, something that absolutely horrified my mother on occasion. But really, what 56

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was the use of fibbing? "Now will you please answer me before I scream?"

I could almost see him gnawing on his bottom lip.

"Maybe," he replied thoughtfully. "But I can't just yet." I screamed. I had to lie down on the bed and pull a pillow over my head so my parents wouldn't hear. But I'm sure Luke got an earful. He said a few choice words as I let loose and he probably had to jerk the phone away from his ear and wince. Afterward, I sat up feeling a little dizzy, but much better.

"That's it," I said, and stuck my nose in the air. "I don't have a crush on you anymore, Luke Carter." And for emphasis I sniffed out a little "Humph."

His eyebrows must have shot up on that one because he sounded startled when he said, "You have a crush on me?"

"No," I replied regally. "I just said I didn't."

"But you did before?" I had him completely baffled. "I thought I heard your brother say you had Rick Getty's picture all over your wall."

I cringed. Just how much had he heard in the store? Oh well, I'd worry about that later. "That was last year," I said.

"You're the hot topic this year."

" Me?" I didn't think he was trying to be vain and draw compliments out of me, because the poor boy honestly sounded confused.

I loved it.

"But why?"

"Please." I gave the word two syllables as I snorted it.

"You're good looking, rich, unattached, popular, and fairly intelligent. Why wouldn't every girl dream about you?" 57

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"But why do you? You don't seem like the type to follow the pack."

I shrugged. I'd already spilled this first part. Why not let him know everything? It wasn't like I still had a crush on him anymore, right?

"Since that football interview," I said, "I kept running into you and having the oddest meetings. So you got stuck in my head, and I was forced to think about you. From there, it just seemed to grow. And let's not forget the whole park incident."

"All I did was hold your hand and push you on the swing. Geez, Carrie. It's not that big of a deal."

"But it doesn't take Luke Carter much to charm a nobody like me."

"Don't say that about yourself. You're not a nobody." For the first time since I'd picked up the phone, I heard irritation in his voice.

"Watch what you say," I warned. "Any more compliments and you'll have my geeky heart going pitter-pat all over again."

"Cut it out."

I laughed, giving it a wicked sound. "What's wrong, Lucas?

Every other girl in school thinks you're the hottest thing since the microwave."

"They do not!" He was spitting out denials desperately.

"And don't call me that."

"Are you blushing?" I said, knowing I had full control of the conversation.

"No."

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"You are." I giggled. "Oh, this is precious. I'm making Luke Carter blush."

"Stop it, Carrie." His voice carried heat and a warning.

"This is weird."

"I take it that the reason you keep bugging me has nothing to do with romantic intentions, then?" There was a pause. And then, "Of course not," he said with such emphasis, it suddenly had my brain whirling. No romantic intentions, huh? It hurt. I can't deny it. But I was too curious to let a thing like that bother me. Remember, I'm an investigative journalist at heart. I was going to get to the bottom of this. If the guy was going to break my heart I was going to find out why.

"Hmm," I said, and tapped my chin.

"What?"

I smiled when I heard alarm in his voice. "I'm thinking."

"OK, now you're scaring me." He didn't sound scared, but wary. Very, very wary. "What're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking of what I might possibly have that you want?"

"I don't—"

"No, no." I grinned, knowing I had him nervous. "Let me guess here." By the way he sounded, I knew I had to be getting close to his secret intentions.

"You don't want me for my body," I said, ignoring a pang of self-pity over that fact. "You showed interest in one of my Dad's cars. But it's obvious you don't really want to buy one of them. I suppose you could be somehow trying to infiltrate 59

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my father's business and take it over. But that can't be it, since your dad already owns more of it than my dad does."

"Carrie, don't—" I could tell it made him uncomfortable to mention Dad's debt to his father at the bank. I hurried on, interrupting him.

"So that can't be it," I said. "But then I see you at the grocery store today and that makes me think of Abby Eggrow."

"Abby Eggrow?" He laughed. "OK, I've got to hear this one."

"All right." I cracked my knuckles. "Marty's been seen publicly with Abby lately. But wait! Luke suddenly thinks he's interested in her. He's jealous of Marty Paxton and needs to come up with some way to get Marty out of the picture. So first he goes to visit Marty's home. He talks to the dad and then to the sister to see if he can pressure some information out of them and discover some kind of weakness in Marty. But he comes up with a blank. So he strolls into Getty's General this afternoon to put the moves on Abby himself." I thought it was a viable solution. Granted, I'd just thought it up and I hadn't worked out any of the kinks yet. But it might be why Luke kept bugging me.