First Day Narrative

“Cool,” I mutter. And it is if it wasn’t so freaky. He turns to me as we walk together. “What did you do for first-day-of-school preparation?” Gray always insists that we do something to get it out of our system. Last year we had a James Bond marathon and stayed up all day. The next day, we both woke up groggy to Dad screaming at us to get to school. That year he got some nasty comments for showing up in basketball shorts that everyone thought was unflattering. It was my fault for telling him he looks fine although he did. Gray isn’t the one who should be getting too much bullshit over his rather careless appearance. Dylan Benson, a kid in our grade, is always wearing a shirt that emphasizes his manhood. Like that one time where it said THE LEGEND with an arrow pointing down to his shirt. But nothing is legend about what’s covered under fifty pounds of fat, and that’s just his stomach. I make effort to think, as if I’ve done so many things worth speaking about, like badgering Dad for money to get some ice cream pints. Who knew it was so expensive. “Dad rented another eighties movie. Throw Momma From the Train,” I tell him. “It’s funnier every time.”

I was spending my entire weekend researching what qualifications I would need to work there.” He sighs, as if I’d just shattered his dream. I giggle. “Well, you have big dreams,” I say, sarcastically. He shrugs. “I’m being realistic, it’s not like I’m gonna be a scientist.” He puffs his chest. “It’s man of me to have realistic goals.” “Sure.” I fight a snicker, covering my mouth with my palm. He shoves me playfully, almost knocking me toward the woman walking her poodle. Pulling my arm, he keeps me from falling toward her, turning around to stifle another laugh as she straightens her shirt. She gave us a stink-eye before marching down the street with a disapproving look on her