The Pen is Mightier pt. 1

Ok, I want some feed back here. I've decide to tell my story in short segments on the blog. It's called, as the title would show, "The Pen is Mighter". Here Goes:

“Matt Wilson: you just successfully completed the ninth grade. What are you going to do next?” My best friend Rufus asked in his best impression of a game show host.
I have hated my name for as long as I can remember. It wouldn’t bother me so much if it weren’t such a popular name. The trouble is, I’ve always wanted to be just Matt, but I’m always “Matt W.” or “Matt With The Pencil Behind His Ear.” It seems to me life might even be easier if I just changed my name.
“Well, Rufus, I think I’ll go home, hide my report card from my mom, nap for seven straight and then spend some time next week to work on that short story,” I stated. “But then again, I’ve been working on it for a while and it really isn’t going any where.”
I’m an author to be. I notice the little details that make up the big picture and that is what truly makes the difference between an author and a writer. Rufus doesn’t seem to get that because he got a C- in language arts. I got an A-. It would have been an A, but I was working so hard on this one piece and it had to be perfect, regardless of the due date.
“Matt, listen and listen good,” He usually wasn’t this confrontational. “Writing is a hobby, not a life. Get that straight. We have a whole summer to live adventures and you just want to write them? Not a chance, pal. For once, we will be the guys about town and maybe Wendi will go out with you if you stop talking about commas and semi-colons around her.” Getting this excited was unusual for Ruf. I could have almost respected the attempt, but the he sighed deeply and took a puff on his inhaler, which just ruined it for me.
However, what he said still struck a nerve. Wendi was my ex-girlfriend and a columnist in the Tiger Times: the school newsletter. I thought that we were going to last for quite some time because on paper we were so compatible, but it didn’t work out because I apparently was far too “one track minded”. I wish Rufus would just stop harping on that. She haunts my dreams enough as it is.
“Yeah,“ I said pretending like it wasn’t a big deal or anything, but it sort of was. “So a girl broke up with me. Big deal. No girl’s ever broken up with you because you’re to hyped up on meds for them to go with you to begin with.”
That was Rufus’s thing. He was allergic to all of the usual things: pollen, peanuts, strawberries, most anything tropical, wood, insects, bee stings, and the list goes on. He also has asthma. He was the typical kid people picked on, so his obsession with popularity made sense. He, like everyone else here just wanted to fit in. That was the problem.
“Hey! Ok, truce, but could you put that stupid spiral away for two minutes?” “Yeah, whatever.” I shrugged nonchalantly, and the two of us headed home.