Scotty Lee Stewart

When I was younger, I remember I had a group of friends from school that I hung out with even out of it, since we all just lived within or near the same neighborhood; it started with a childish pact made over a custom lightsaber that was hard to come by but somehow Tommy had wheedled out of his dad, and we were hardly out of each other’s hair after that. It came to a point when our mothers would complain that they never see their sons without their rowdy shadows anymore, but they would always feed the whole lot of us if we happened to be around; all of us felt at home inside the house of the others, and we were never made to feel unwelcome. We lived for the summers, when we woke up each day not knowing for sure what we would be doing, but secure with the knowledge that whatever it was, it was going to be fun; we had the choice of going to the river to cool off if the day got too hot, or proving our prowess against each other with the family computer that was the prizes possession of Davey, or just goofing off at the edge of the playground, where we would park our bikes and tease the younger kids playing by the swings. Our fun continued despite the end of the summer months when we had to go back to school, where we were all in the same class much to the disappointment of our teachers; still, it was quite a feat not to be sent to the office of the principal all the time for always disrupting our lessons.