Though he desperately refuses the conformities of modern novel tropes, George acknowledges he's just the same as every book character. A side character that is. Studying his way into writing a hit novel George has to master the ups and downs of his...
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"Cause I'm no good. You could do better." The Bottom Gracie Abrams
Dream
"Shh! Don't wake him up or he'll eat half of the stash."
My head is completely groggy at some unearthly hour in the morning when I'm disturbed. Cool air trickles in from the direction of my window and forces me to yank my blankets higher up, arm outstretched to pull George closer to me. My heart jumps when I realize his half of his bed is empty. A thump hits the ground.
"Ow! Stop!"
"I didn't do anything you're just clumsy!"
"George," it's definitely my younger sister that sounds offended, "did you really climb into his window like that all of the time?"
His laugh is quiet but the most genuine I've heard from him in a while. It floats over the dewy November morning and puts heat into my stomach that shouldn't be there. I sigh and open one eye. George stands with his back to me my two siblings holding hands in front of him. Both of their expressions are worried if not a bit mischievous.
"Yeah, I did." Crinkling a bag from the donut shop down the street he shuts my window and latches it. "Now, go back to your rooms and act like nothing happened."
They giggle at him each taking a bag filled with sweets our mom likes to ration us with. With her being a nutritionist, it has always been a hassle to have sweets and unhealthy foods, but we still found ways to sneak it.
"What if mom catches us?" My younger brother twists on George's shirt with anxious fingers lips pulled between teeth. I'm mildly surprised he went with them since he's always been the house snitch.
George bends and hugs them both as reassurance, "you won't. And if you do give her a scone and say that it was my fault. Okay?"
"But," my brother's frown lines deepen. "What if you get in trouble?"
George's side smile reminds me of the days when we would sneak out, the same familiar grin eating away at his cushioned cheeks.
"Don't worry about me," George shakes his head. "I'm old. I won't get in trouble."
I can't resist anymore. My arms wrap around George's midsection from the bed, breaking out from the warmth of my blankets I topple him over into my chest, a yelp catches in his throat. He struggles which causes both of my siblings to yelp with him. Then the giggles return.
"You three are in so much trouble." My voice rasps into his squishy cheek low and gravely in the morning. George flushes red and tries to shove me off, I hug him tighter and throw my right leg over his hip to hold him captive.
"I bought you a chocolate donut," George chuckles. "Can we bribe you for secrecy?"
He goes limp and lulls his head on the crook of my arm to look at me. The eyes I'm forced to endure are pleading and remind me too much of unholy situations that I relent. "Fine."
