Rooftop

3.

    I wake up at 6:30 the next morning, which surprised me at first, before I realized that it would've been 7:30 if I were back in Arizona. I decide to put the rest of my stuff away, because I still have a box of random crap that I haven't done anything with except for shoving it in a corner, where my mom wouldn't see it. I take it out and start putting little nick-nacks and old pictures onto different shelves, or spaces in my room. I also take notice to the new desk in my room. My old one was full of splinters that my skin, clothes, and just about everything else would always get stuck on. This new one has been sanded and painted, making it smooth. I throw an old bracelet my cousin made me onto it, and then run downstairs to grab some breakfast.

    I make a toaster waffle and bring it back upstairs, because my mom is already at work, and can't tell me not to eat food in my bedroom, like she always does.

    I climb through the window and see Brad climbing through the window. Before even thinking  about what to do, I throw my partially-devoured waffle (which, luckily for him, has no syrup on it) at his head. He ducks, and my breakfast goes flying out the window, onto the concrete ground below.

    Brad looks at me with confusion, and then shakes his head slightly, seemingly to dismiss what had just happened, and then opens his smiling mouth to speak.

    "Well, since it appears that you just threw your breakfast out the window, do you want to go grab something from The Bean?"

    "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I don't feel like cooking anymore this morning," I tell him, dismissing the fact that the only cooking I've done was put a frozen waffle into a toaster.   

    "Okay, let's get going then." I grab my wallet from my desk, and put it into the pocket in my sweatpants. I then slip on some shoes and head out of my room, which Brad has already left. Before I can believe, I catch a quick glimpse of the framed photograph sitting on my nightstand. It's an old picture from when I was around four or five years old, where I'm sitting on my dad's shoulders.

We're both smiling, and wearing matching Bruce Springsteen shirts and jeans. I flip the it around, so that it's facing the wall, and then run down to meet up with Brad.

    "Well you took your sweet ass time, didn't you my dear Columbia?" He says sarcastically to me. I stick my tongue out at him, as we start walking down the cracked sidewalk.

    "What are you going to order this time?" Brad asks me as we get closer to The Bean. He generally does all of the talking, which I don't mind. He makes the conversations interesting enough.

    "Are their Lattes any good?"

    "They are my crack."

    "Well then I'll probably order one of those. But if you love them so much, why didn't you order one yesterday?" I ask him.

    "Because the word 'Cappuccino' is fun to say, and makes me sound more cultured than I actually am."

    We walk into The Bean and order what we both said we would, and I grab a bagel for breakfast. After we walk out he tells me that he wants to run home really quick to grad some money, though he never actually specifies what he needs it for. Despite my lack of information, I follow him in through his front door.

    His house looks very similar to mine, though it's painted a different color inside, and has slightly newer-looking furniture. I follow him up to his bedroom, which I can see my bedroom from. He pulls a small black box out from under his dresser, and opens it up to reveal a stash of bills ranging from five dollars to one hundred dollars. Just as he's about to put twenty dollars into his wallet a girl with long light brown hair (the same color as his) and brown eyes, who looks like she's around two years younger than us.