[h2]Booker[/h2]
6:00 AM, Tuesday. Sept. 8th, 2015.[hr]
The red digits of the alarm clock flashed in the dark of Booker's room as he rolled over in bed. He didn't want to get up. There was a weight pushing him into the soft mattress. He was too comfortable to leave the bed's warm embrace just yet. Instead he brushed his hand against the carpet at the foot of his bed, slowly searching until he brought up what he needed. His smart-phone, slightly cracked and scratched from his usual neglect and mistreatment. It was only a moment before he was swiping through social media news-feeds and checking out the latest updates his friend's had posted for themselves. Joseph had uploaded more shirtless photos, to the ire of Booker, and was still receiving a couple dozen likes per visible muscle group. Booker left a comment with a chuckle. 'my feed got no business lookin like this.' 

Darrell was busy trying to flex his new wardrobe, with his collection of new snapbacks and shirts. Booker admired the new chains he was wearing, glossing in the light of the picture. He wasn't usually one to wear jewelry, but they looked alright. He'd leave a like, but no more. Darrell got too talkative about his possessions when you engaged him, and Booker was not in the mood for that.

Meanwhile, further down the feed, Morgan was busy being savage as usual. Booker was surprised to find out that an argument that had begun the previous day was still going on, in the form of a 200+ comment chain. From the looks of it, most of it was from Morgan. Girl didn't know when enough was enough, but she was good to have as a friend. Loyal to the end. Booker smiled as he scrolled over several lines of insults and mockery. Damn, the girl had fangs. A knock on the door immediately wiped the smile from his face, the voice from behind it all too familiar to him. "Book? You hear that alarm, right? Could y'shut it off? Makin' an awful racket." His father spoke in measured tones. The voice of a police negotiator. Booker slapped the top of the alarm clock and silenced its blaring. He did not reply to his father, he was already too engrossed in his social media once again. His father wanted to come in, he knew, but he wouldn't. They had already spoken too much about personal space.

"Thanks buddy." He said with a sigh before Booker heard his boots scuffing the floor down the hall. As he swung his legs from the bed, he felt his phone erupt into vibrations and his ringtone replaced the alarm clock's noise. 'Excuse me mista, but can y'please turn down the lights, I don't really like all these cameras man, and this sh-' Booker picked it up before Tyler could cuss, and brought it to his ear slowly.

"Big-B! Boy, you ready for today? Back to school, back into it! I'm hype, no lie man." It was D-Bag. Or Darrell. D-Bag was his nickname within the circle of friends he was part of. Just like Morgan was Mog, Joseph was Jojo and Booker himself was Big-B. There were others, but this quartet was the only ones he'd really call his friends. Booker wiped at his face and groaned, he had almost forgotten that today was the first day of senior year. He grumbled into the receiver, "D... what'd I tell you about callin' me this early?" Darrell's reply was slightly staggered, he knew that Booker didn't like to be talking on the phone as the sun was coming up. "Y-yeah I know, B. But jus' hear me out. Squad was talkin' in the group chat and we thought we'd hit up breakfast before first period."

Booker sighed and chuckled slightly. "Oh, and how you gon' get there?" He knew the answer, but the asking amused him more and more every time. Darrell stuttered out, "Uh, well we were hopin' that you would be able to bring the whip around to Jojo's and we jus' like-" Booker cut him off with a laugh and a follow-up question, "Aight, how many am I takin'?"

Darrell paused for a moment, Booker could almost hear him counting up the heads. "Uh, just the usual squad. You and me, as well as Mogs and Jojo. And Trisha and Penny." Booker's smile drooped and his words came slow as he droned, "I don't know any Trisha and Penny." Darrell was already off on another stuttering spree before he even finished, "N-nah nah nah, don't worry B, they nice. Fine as hell. You'll love 'em." Booker scratched at his bared chest as he stood up, "My car only has five seats, son," he said with a tone of slight protest. Darrell wasn't hearing it, and signed off with a rushed, "Aight, see you at Jojo's at 7, peace!"

The red numbers of the alarm clock told him it was 6:17. He grumbled slightly as he pulled on a pair of shorts and made a beeline for the bathroom. His shower was quick and slightly frigid, like always. Towelling off and getting dressed only took a moment, as he threw on his slightly oversized uniform, complete with a pair of black Ray-Bans. Keys, phone, wallet and his backpack that was packed as hastily as it was unpacked when last school year let out.

Booker looked himself over in the mirror. Tall, chubby and babyfaced. Just like always. Nothing out of the usual there, so that was alright. His skin was being agreeable today, all smooth and clear. Seeing his bald head like this made him want to grow his hair out some days, but the feeling of the breeze on his scalp was too nice to deny. All that prep and it was only 6:38 now. He wasted no more time and made his way to the front door of the small house that he and his father shared.

"Heading out for school, buddy?" His father asked from the kitchen. He was nursing a cup of hot coffee as he looked Booker over with a smile. "A bit early, don't you think?" Booker shrugged, stopping in his tracks on the way to the door. "Well, crew wanted to get some food before we hit the books." He paused a moment to notice his unintentional pun before nodding to his father. The older man was fitter than Booker, but he was graying around the temples. A face similar to Booker's, but that beard and those wrinkles added something that he himself couldn't replicate. Experience and age. His father nodded back, sipping from his coffee cup again before speaking.

"Well, don't let me keep you then. Have a good day, son."

He hummed back in confirmation as he walked to his car. The beat up Mini Cooper. It was only a few moments of checking mirrors and fiddling with the clutch before it coughed into action and he rolled out from the driveway and onto the road. Jojo's house was regarded as the 'central hub' for the squad's meet-ups. It was close to everyone and it was easy to find. Just had to look for the fancy house on the hill. Booker didn't even have to search the streets to be able to see who he was picking up. Jojo, the fitness guru in his wide-shouldered glory had his arm around D-Bag, the lanky one decked out in all the expensive accessories. Shiny watch, nice glasses, fancy shoes and that perfect smile. Beside them was Mogs, the shapely young woman yelling at D. Beside them were two figures he didn't know. Two young women, looking slightly tired and slightly alienated. 

As he pulled up, the Mini backfired and sputtered. He rolled down the window and gave a nod in greeting. "Hurry up and get in, I'm hungry as hell." D came to the window and took a hold of his hand, thanking him for the favor. With Mogs in the passenger seat, D and Jojo in the back with Trisha sitting atop Penny in the middle, they set off. It wasn't a long drive. It wasn't a long breakfast either, as before he knew it, it was almost 9 and Booker was pulling into a student parking space with friends in tow. They clambered out like clowns at a sideshow, all yelling and making a ruckus about one subject or another. If it wasn't clothing, then it was music. Or relationships. Or fights.

Booker watched them from the driver's seat as he turned the car off, made his crumpled parking pass visible and got out, slamming the door and locking it lazily. "Come on, B!" Calls went out to him as he moseyed over and joined his friends, moving to enter the school as they always did. Loudly.