Meet Roy (because it's important or something)

As I near the assembly of benches I look for my friend. I look at the bench that we usually sit at and...of course. He isn't there, and the bench nearest to me glances my way. I try not to appear awkward as I turn around. I groan, 'Lady Luck must be laughing at me right now.' As I make a move to walk back inside I slam into Roy who, by the looks of things, seemed to be about to grab my shoulder. His hand hits against my arm instead, making it twist in a funny angle, and he snatches it back.

"Mother-"

"Hey Roy," I say in annoyance.

He flashes an apologetic grin, "Hey man."

"Where the hell were you?," I ask.

"I was right behind you as you were walking outside."

"Why didn't you call out and get my attention?"

He forces a cough before he replies, "I wanted to see how you would react to not finding me."

"Oh great," I say rolling my eyes.

We walk through groups of seated learners and claim our normal bench, sitting down and pulling our lunches out. Even though its only morning and school hasn't started yet, we eat half our food when we get to school and then the other half at break.

Hey, don't tell me you don't do it as well. (shakes head and rubs neck)

"Uh, why are you rubbing your neck?," Roy asks snapping me back to the present.

"Er...no reason," I say quickly.

He gives me the fish eye and takes a bite out of his mayo-and-chicken sandwich.

"Are you talking to imaginary people again?," he persists.

"What?," I reply a little too loudly before laughing nervously, "no way dude."

He wiggles his eyebrows (which he does whenever he doesn't believe a word I say) and nods slowly, "Yeah sure."

A pair of seventh graders run past the benches apparently playing a game of chase. Either that or the guy that was running stole something. I wouldn't be surprised in both cases. I turn to continue talking with Roy when I see her. Emily Sulvain, aka Miss Popular, aka Miss Perfection. So it's probably a bad thing that I have a crush on her. We are like water and oil, sugar and salt, perfume and a fart. Okay...maybe you didn't need that last example. Whatever. You get the point, we are complete opposites.

That doesn't appear to stop me though. Would it make you give up, even if it was hopeless? (smiles and shakes head).

"Dude?," Roy speaks up again.

Crap. "Yeah?," I say nonchalantly.

"You're doing it again," he informs me helpfully with a smirk.

He looks over at Emily and her group of friends as they walk past us. Honestly I didn't even notice the other girls. My brain works that way, I know it's weird. He whistles and a couple of heads look over at him, making him shove the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.

"All you need to do now is swallow and your life will be over, along with my embarrassment ."

"Shath eph," he tells me in between his mouth full of food. His cheeks are puffed out from the mushy bread, making him look like a chipmunk.

"I'm sorry, what did you say? I didn't quite hear you there."

He leans across the table and punches me with his fist. I lean back and feign injury, grimacing dramatically. He tries to laugh and sandwich bits shoot out between his teeth like a machine gun.

"Dude, gross!," I exclaim in half-hearted disgust.

Roy and I have been best friends since third grade. Last year I began to ask myself if I would ever have decided to be friends with him if I had to have met him all over again but in eighth grade. I still don't know what my answer is to this day. I try now to answer it once and for all when the bell decides to cut in and start it's wailing.

Roy finishes off the bites that are left in his mouth and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. As we get up he throws his hand forward as if to give me a handshake.

"Well it's been fun," he says.

I just give him a half grin and shove my hands into my pockets, "Yeah, I guess you could say it like that."

He drops his hand and cleans it on the side of his pants, "Always a pleasure playing jester."

"You were only playing?," I ask sarcastically.

He gives me a dirty look and I can't help but laugh. We walk back inside the school building and over to our bags that sit waiting for us at our register class. We grab them and go to the back of the line of students. We talk about games and new T.V series for over five minutes before our register teacher arrives and unlocks the classroom door. We file inside and take a seat.

'Let the day commence,' I think to myself defiantly, 'Bring it on. I can handle whatever comes my way.'