Colours - Brown

"Hey, school starts next week, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

“There goes the buckets of free time we once had.” Priscilla joked as she slid further down the seat, interlocking her fingers and revelling in a luxurious stretch.

Francis blinked and smiled faintly at her, suddenly struck by how foreign the simple act of smiling seemed to him now. He wasn’t even sure if what he gave was a smile or a grimace. At that thought, he immediately dropped the supposed smile from his face. It wouldn’t do to freak Priscilla out.

“So we’re both going to the same school. Cool, huh?”

Ah, that. They found that out a few bus rides back (Francis finds it both a little amusing and slightly more than a little terrifying that he has now come to measure the passage of time through bus rides, the underlying principle being that they only count if spent in Priscilla’s company) that they were both going to the same school. ‘Going to’ were Priscilla’s words. Francis had prefered ‘stifled in a parcel and booted off to’ instead, although he suspected it was a tad uncharitable on his part.

“Mmm.” Yes, well, as cool as the prospect of dragging himself through piles of soggy assignments and mouldering corridors with no support other than sheer power of will for a handful of months could possibly be.

Then again, there was Priscilla to consider.

Maybe... it would be cool.