Unlike Mikey, Cookie had an odium against Mondays. School was so humdrum, and certainly something that Cookie wasn’t looking forward to when he woke up. That was why he made it his duty to be a complete pain in the ass for Christopher every morning. The poor man was somehow patient with the ill-bread teenager, and accepted whatever was thrown at him. Anyways, the day went by a lot more slowly that it should, even when he did cut third and fifth period. Not even a smoke break made time go faster. And his trig teacher was out to get him. Ms. Smartypants just didn’t stop talking, and admonished him every moment she got the chance. Seriously, so what if he was ‘not paying attention.’
Anyways, he dismissed himself from his last period class, j-walking blindly around the school, until he heard a faint voice. He followed the sound with his hands in his pocket, and then peaked into the auditorium. There, he found a boy with a guitar, playing a song that was surely familiar to him. Without much thought, he wandered into the vast room and leaned against the wall whilst waiting until the song was completed.
“You’re good,” he suddenly said. And even with the accolade, a deadpanned look crossed his face. He walked deeper into the auditorium. Just then, he suddenly had the urge to play his own guitar.
He hadn’t been playing for the guitar for too long. Cookie had started when he was around ten years old, following the footstep of his father who was a staggering guitar player. It was what had pilfered his mother’s heart. Because we all know the ladies had this odd thing when it came to musicians. His eyes squinted a little. “Mikey, right?” He’d recognized him, just enough to match name to face, but that was about it.