Fame

"Hey Peyton." Jordan's mom greeted me when I entered her home, "Jordan's downstairs playing videogames with Ben."

"Thanks." I replied with a smile before racing down the hall and down the stairs to the basement. "Hi Jordan." I greeted him as I sat next to him on the couch.

"Hi," He said without taking his eyes off the TV, "You excited for school next week?" He asked.

"Ew." His little brother Ben whined from his seat on the floor, "Second grade is going to be hard."

"Try going into seventh." Jordan muttered.

"I'm nervous." I told him.

He peeked at me from the corner of his eye, "Pey, you have no reason to be nervous. You're smart, pretty, and the teachers always love you."

I smiled at him, "Thanks." I replied.

"Anything for my best friend. Besides, I need you to help balance out how much the teachers hate me." He replied.

I ellbowed him, "They don't hate you. They just hate your laziness." I teased.

He shrugged, "I'm never gonna be good in school like you. You've got a possible future, all I want to do is music. I don't need to know how to spell for that."

"Yes you do." I told him.

He grimaced, "Nope."

"Yeah."

"No."

"Yeah."

"No."

"Yes, you do, Jordan." I huffed.

"Why?" He asked. pausing his game to look at me.

I rolled my eyes, "Because when you become famous people will want your autograph." I pointed out.

He grinned, "I'm so lucky to have someone as smart as you around."

I chuckled, "You'll never forget about me when you tour with your band?"

"Once I get into a band and we start touring, you'll be the first one I ask to come with me." He promised.

"Good, I'm glad." I replied with a smile.

I wish things were like that again: so simple and easy.