Remember James?

I'm sure everyone but me has forgotten that we said we were going to keep writing and critiqing like we did in Creative Writing. And I'm sure you're all too busy with school et cetera to critique. But I wrote more of that James story. It's turning out to look more and more like a novel and less like a short story. I'm sure I'll never actually finish it, but I'm enjoying it so far.

As he walked to his history class, James was startled by a call of “Hey, James”. No one ever called to him in the hallway. If he heard his name, it was usually one of the three or four other Jameses at his school who they were talking to. He turned casually, so he wouldn’t look stupid if it turned out to be another James being called to. It was Trey.
“Hey, you’ve got a camera, right? I’ve seen you carrying it around.” It wasn’t odd that Trey had noticed him carrying the camera. James’ camera was huge. It was heavy and black and square, like a piece of electronics from the nineteen eighties. It had been his grandfather’s and, though his photography teacher had recommended getting a more recent piece of equipment, James kept it because it reminded him of his grandfather. He also kept it because it made him feel like some kind of camera aficionado. Like lovers of classic cars, he pictured himself telling someone with a fancy new camera, “They don’t make ‘em like this anymore. Back then they knew how to make a real camera. Not like this modern crap.”
“Do you have, like, a dark room and all that stuff?” Trey asked. “No, I usually just use the one at school.” James always used the one at school.
“That’s no good. We won’t be able to use it over the summer. And if we wait all summer, it’ll never actually get done. You’ve gotta jump on these things quick and finish ‘em fast, or else they never get done.”
“What things?”
“It’s this project I’m working on. Well, I’m not actually working on it yet. It’s just an idea I have.” Trey tilted his head up (he had to tilt it down talking to James) as if he had just heard something that he was trying to identify. “I’ve got this friend. I think she’d let us use her darkroom. We should go over and ask her.”
“We,” James said. “Uh…when?” The bell wrang.
“After school.” Trey’s reply made it sound like the next few classes were an annoyance. Something in his way.
“Okay,” James said.
During his next class he asked to go to the bathroom and then went to the front office and asked to use the phone to tell his mom not to pick him up after school. It took some convincing, but his mother eventually agreed to let some kid she didn’t know give her son a ride.
[transition goes here]
Trey knocked, and a few moments later the door opened on a girl who looked a few years older than Trey. She had mid-length, straight dark hair pulled behind her ears. She wore jeans with two or three generous holes at the thighs and a yellow t-shirt so old and that its lettering was no longer legible. And she was beautiful, with an aquiline nose and [other features, to be filled in later]. She smiled immediately when she saw Trey, letting go of the door knob and giving him a quick hug. “Who’s this?” she said, seeing James.
They both looked expectantly at him. “Uh,” he said, realizing Trey wasn’t going to answer for him. “James.”
“Hi, James. I’m [think of name later]”James was immensely grateful to her for not saying something like “’Uh James.’ What a funny name.” He liked her instantly.