“Morning, Matt.” he said calmly.
“Morning, Paris.” Matt replied, “How was your walk here?”
“Usual. The weather never seems to fail me. Always the perfect temperature.”
Matt looked down at Paris’ pants and noticed that the pure white fabric had no imperfections. Not even grass stains from his walk to the school. Paris’ black shoes were also devoid of any dirt. They were the black skateboard shoes he always wore, one of which was tied with a white shoelace.
A few more students made their way into the classroom. Each sitting down into their seat and removing their belongings from their bags to get ready for the lesson ahead of them. About half the seats were filled now. During the last five minutes before class started, the rest of the students came piling in. As usual, not one was late.
At the ringing of the bell, Matt grabbed his belongings and placed them neatly into his bag. The first two periods had passed and it was now lunch time. He turned to walk towards the door, closely followed by Paris. They walked through the hallways and made their way towards Matt’s locker. They didn't talk, since their was nothing much to talk about. Matt was still thinking about the previous lesson. He stared at his feet as he walked, careful not to step on the cracks between the tiles. He looked up at his companion. Paris had his head in the clouds as usual. He gazed directly in front of him, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere. He strummed his fingers on his leg as he walked, muttering to himself. This was usual behaviour for Paris. He was always thinking of new ideas, mostly plot lines for short stories. Paris wrote many of these, each about various topics. Be it astrology, psychology, human anatomy, or insects, Paris had at least written one story about the topic. Matt often had the exclusive permission to read these stories, and watch as Paris’ talents grew. Paris modestly brushed aside the compliments people often have him after reading a story. He always sought to become better, an attribute Matt thought highly of.
He reached his locker and swapped his bag for his lunch, Paris doing the same at the locker beside him. They simultaneously closed their lockers, the locks closing with a satisfying click. A few moments later, they reached their usual eating place. Another student was waiting there. His red hair reflected the sunlight and looked as though it had been set on fire, the curly locks were twisting flames, dancing in the wind. The boy turned around and gave Matt and Paris a small smile, inviting them to sit. Matt obliged, sitting on the step next to the boy, followed by Paris.
“Hello, Matt. Paris.”, the redhead said. His wide green eyes glanced at Matt’s lunch, then wandered over to Paris’.
“ I see you've brought your own lunches. I had to get mine from the cafeteria.”, he looked down at his own lunch, a bowl of ramen, “ It cost me six dollars.”
Matt nodded, and Paris just sat there. Matt spent most of his time at school with these two. Troy, the redhead, was the most talkative of the three. He excelled in debate and in politics. Matt knew little about politics, where as Troy not only followed it, but also understood it. He could come up with political tactics and follow through with them, executing them perfectly. Troy knew what he wanted to say, and shared his opinion on various subjects without hesitation. Matt thought that they were a well balanced group of friends. He dominated the sciences, Paris controlled the literary and language courses and Troy understood the political and social science courses. They could easily get help in homework if they ever needed it, which wasn't very often, but did happen occasionally. The ate the rest of their lunch in silence.