"Hey, Cam." I called as he approached me. We've been friends for the longest time, since we were little kids (we fought a lot back then, mind you!).
"Hi." he muttered as he fumbled with his lock. I glanced at him through my mirror as I pulled off my earrings and put in my studs for practice. See, I play basketball in my spare time. The practices are an hour, but we go for two hours a day on Saturdays and Sundays. Our coach says it helps us commit better, and it gives us time to work jobs and homework in easier. Nobody cares, either.
I noticed a battered notebook through my mirror. I turned around and snatched it before he could do anything about it.
"Becca, give that back!" He snatched it back.
"I want to see what it is!" I snatched it back.
"It's mine, and it's personal." He snatched it back, and held it out of my grasp.
"Cam, since when do you have a diary?" I jumped to get it, but it doesn't help when he's pushing six foot and I'm about three and a half inches shorter. So I kicked him in the shins. Hard. He kicked me back, and stuffed the notebook into his locker.
"No fair!" I exclaimed as I grabbed my own stuff and shut my locker
"Yes fair. It's not yours." he said as he set his lock. I shrugged.
"How's the class project going for you?" I asked him.
"Okay, I guess. I'm getting along well with my mystery friend. How about you?" He grinned, as if to say he knew something and I didn't.
"The person I got paired with? He's amazing! He's totally different from anybody I've met and that includes you. He's a poet, a philosopher, he's. . . .nice." I admited.
I could hear my voice growing softer. I glanced up at Cam for a moment. His face darkened for a second, but then he shook his head.
"That's great, Becca. I've gotta go to work." he broke into a jog.
"Cam? Are you-" I was left standing there. I looked up. He turned around, still jogging.
"I'll see you at the party tonight!" he called, running to get his bike before his brother stole it.