The school day had ended about twenty minutes earlier, but neither boy seemed particularly interested in getting home.
They walked along the pavement with their bags slung over one shoulder, occasionally kicking at loose stones as they went.
The afternoon had settled into that quiet stretch between school and dinner, when there was nowhere they needed to be and no reason to hurry.
"I'm getting on FIF-, I mean FC when I get home. I still can't get used to the name change," the first boy said, and to that, his friend groaned.
"Again?"
"What?"
"You've played it every day this week, bro."
"So?"
"So there are other games."
"FC is fine."
"FC is the same game they've been selling us since we were born with a different number slapped on the cover."
The first boy laughed before nudging the previous boy in the shoulder.
"You still play it."
"Well, that is because you keep asking me to play."
"Exactly. So stop complaining."
"I'm not complaining. I'm trying to save you."
