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A Good Start

Tord woke up; his body sore and his head pounding slightly. He did not sleep well in the new house—the new country. He looked at the clock, and it read 5:24. His alarm was going to go off soon, so instead of just laying in bed uncomfortably, Tord got up and went to the bathroom. He stood outside his door, trying to remember which door was the bathroom. He went to the right, which led further down the hallway. He opened the door to see Paul and Patryck; Patryck was reading while Paul was still under the covers. Patryck looked at Tord, confused.

"Yes, Tord?" he said softly. Tord shuffled and looked down at his feet..

"I...uh...can't find the bathroom," Tord mumbled, his Norwegian usually fluent. Patryck closed his book and pulled off the covers, making Paul mumble something inaudible. Patryck put a hand on Tord's shoulder and led him to the bathroom.

"I'll have your breakfast ready in a minute," Patryck pat his back and smiled softly, leaving Tord to do his business. Tord stared at his reflection, the bags under his eyes very prominent. He sighed and grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste, and began to brush his teeth. He took a shower, did his hair (glaring at the persistent "horns" that wouldn't stay down), and returned to his room with the towel around his waist. He dried himself off and dressed himself, putting on his traditional red hoodie with black skinny jeans and black Converse. He changed the bandage that was on his right jaw, grimacing at the burned skin. Roadburn.

He turned off his light, grabbed his backpack from next to his door, and went downstairs. As Patryck had promised, breakfast was ready in thirty minutes. Tord sat down next to Paul, who was reading the newspaper and smoking; he took a drag and looked to his son.

"You ready for your first day of school?" the older man said. Tord looked at his father for a moment, but smiled.

"Yeah, I am ready," Tord said. Paul narrowed his eyes.

"What is your name, how old are you, and where are you from?" he said. Tord sighed, trying to remember the English lessons that his fathers had given him.

"Hello, my name is Tord, I am sixteen, and I am of Norway," he mumbled. Paul nodded and Patryck set a plate with lefse and strawberry jam down, with a small bowl of muesli on the side. Tord was glad to have his usual breakfast in an unusual place.

"Eat up," Patryck said in English. Tord nodded and ate his breakfast. Paul looked over at the clock, then back to Patryck.

"The bus will be here by 6:20, Tord, don't miss it," Paul said. Tord nodded as he finished up his lefse and moved on to his muesli.

"Don't forget to talk to the office when you get there," Patryck said, making Tord look up, confused. "You need your schedule," Patryck smiled. Tord nodded and finished his muesli. He took a sip from his cup.

"Don't make yourself sick," Paul said without looking up from his paper. Tord rolled his eyes.

"Get to your bus," Paul chuckled. Tord began to leave when Patryck grabbed his shoulder.

"Don't forget your lunch," he smiled, handing Tord the brown bag. Tord smiled and gave his father a hug. He looked back to see Paul with a brow raised, so Tord went back and gave him a hug, as well.

"Have a good day, Tord!" Patryck waved Tord off. Tord smiled.

"Love you guys," he said, his accent heavily laced with English words.

Tord could see where other kids waited on the sidewalk and slowly made his way over. He could see a tall, lanky boy in teal with fiery red hair talking loudly to a shorter, chubbier boy with dark hair. Tord approached them but didn't talk to him.