Predictably, High School S and High School T came by, a good 30 minutes after everyone else. S was the natural leader, and T easily adopted most of his bad habits. Both were intelligent, but lacked any sort of work ethic. Their interests had diverged and diversified, but they held together through habit if nothing else. S had falled in with what he deemed the right crowd at some point in the last couple years, and they had easily convinced him that drugs enhanced both creativity and artistic appreciation. As an aspiring musician, he figured he needed every possible edge, besides, with everyone of his idols having followed the same route to fame, how could he possibly go wrong? As a result of his misplaced ambitions, his marks dropped to excitement at getting a 60% in classes he'd previously aced. He was distanced from most of his classmates, placed under the uncomfortable label of "Stoner". Though he wore the right clothes, liked the rights things, and hung out with the right crowd, S never considered himself a stoner. They, he thought, were those that couldn't quit. His accentuated appreciations, once, twice, three times daily were nothing that he couldn't quit, if he wanted to. Which he really had no desire to do, as he could see absolutely no adverse effects to his occasional intoxications.

His long time best friend, T, had avoided S's narcotic tendencies. He had tried, on his buddy's insistance, the famed substance, but had found it not particularly effective. Perhaps it was because he lacked the same musical passion, perhaps it was because drugs were simply not his style. Still, he was floundering along with an average similar to T's, only without the added excuse of "better things to do". T had never learned to work, never bothered to do anything, pulling off decent and even impressive accomplishments. However, this strategy backfired once he was asked to do more than simply spell his own first name.

I was being a bit harsh on the boy. He was very talented where computers were concerned, and applied himself avidly where he found an interest. Which, of course, rarely coincided with school. T was a nice, helpful person, but growing up with one longtime best friend had kept him from learning to interact with his peers. He was as tongue tied as possible where the fairer sex was concerned, and could not think if F was in the same room. The only interaction he'd ever had with her was night time fantasies that left his hand tired and his sheets a little damp. He wore his pants a little too short and his shirts a little too big, and never seemed to know, care, or understand the difference. He was a Geek, through and through.

The pair walked on, oblivious to my inner musings. They didn't care that they were late, for the twelfth time that month. After all, they were a little above school. They turned the corner in the wrong direction, and I suspected a trip to the Corner Store. Why bother to come late and disturb the class when one could simply not come at all? I'd often wondered. Maybe a near death experience or an alien visitation would jolt the two back to reality. Looking around me, looking back at the path woven in front of me that day, they all needed a trip back to the real world.

I mentally cursed the superfluous state of their lives. Why, back in my day...

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