School went pretty great today. I met a kid named Travis in my math class. He's captain of the basketball team here. He had messy blonde hair, lighter than my brother's. I hate lunch with him and some of his friends.
I remember Alex telling me he would meet with me after school. He said he would wait at the school gate. My last class had its room right in the front, and out the window you could see the gate. So I saw Alex arrive, there was a red haired kid following him, seeming to attempt to talk with him. I smiled, it seems he made a friend. I was worried for a minute there.
I walked out of school with Travis, we talked about the pre-test in math. "Hey Austin! How was your first day?" I heard Alex excitedly yell. I looked over, he had a smile on his face and the red haired kid just leaned against the gate.
"Great, this is my friend Travis," I said, gesturing toward the blue eyed boy.
Alex then stopped talking. He's always had a problem with new people. I hoped maybe him making a friend would help that. "Who's that?" I asked, pointing to the kid he was talking to early.
"Some guy who keeps standing up for me. I don't understand his problem," Alex growled.
"I don't have a problem Alex! I was helping you out at lunch!" the kid yelled back.
"What about the halls? You punched Caroline!" Alex responded.
"That is none of your concern. I just didn't like what she was saying so I stepped in!"
"Whatever man. I'm going shopping with my brother," Alex mumbled, grabbing onto my wrist and dragging me off.
We walked around DC, trying to find a store that wasn't filled with tourists and trinkets for tourists. We came across a nice writing store, they had plenty of items that Alex liked. He grabbed a quill and some ink. I picked out an interesting journal for him, he smiled once he saw it. I didn't know he had such an interest in writing.
That took up about $30. So I had $20 for myself. While walking we came across a sign for a garage sale. I didn't find the harm in going, so we went. I looked around the small garage with dusty tables set up to sell items. The old man running it approached me, "young man, do you play video games?"
"Yeah, who doesn't?" I responded.
"Poor kids in Africa," Alex mumbled.
"I have an old gaming console I've been meaning to get rid of. I'll sell it to you for ten dollars," he croaked. The man had a raspy voice, a very stereotypical old man voice. It cracked here and there, probably cause of his age.
I nodded, and after a couple minutes of the man digging through his garage to find it, he pulled out a black handheld console. It had 3 on the back of it, which I thought was kind of strange. "What kind of console is this?" I asked.
"It's, uhh... called the..." the man began.
"It's okay if you don't know the name," I smiled, handing him a ten dollar bill and waving goodbye.
Once we got home, I went up to my room and sat at my desk. I set down the console and just stared at it for a minute. I had no idea what I was going to do with it. It probably had downloadable games, or else I would have to look online for where they're selling games for something like this. I set it in the drawer and pulled out my journal. Before I wrote anything, I sat and thought. "Why am I writing? Why do Alex and I write so often?"
That's an easy answer. Our mom wrote in a journal all the time. Saying that after she's gone, she wants everyone to remember her and the life she lived. She wanted her family and friends to remember the good times they had with her. That's why we journal so much.
