Bridging Hearts (DNF)

Chapter One - A Foreign Arrival

Fanart is not mine.

George's POV:

I stood on the sidewalk, my suitcase at my feet, feeling the humid summer air pressing against my skin. With its quaint streets and friendly faces, this small American town called Palmview feels like another world entirely. I gaze up at the blue sky, a stark contrast to the often overcast weather back home, and take a deep breath. This was it-- my new life.

"George, are you ready?" my mother called from the car, where she was trying to figure out the directions to Aunt Susan's house. I nodded, although I wasn't sure if I was ready at all. The idea of leaving everything I know behind for a change of pace had seemed like an adventure at first, but now that I'm here, it feels more daunting than exciting. 

We drove through the town, passing by rows of neat houses with well-kept lawns and American flags fluttering in the breeze. People waved as we went by, something that never really happened in London. I smiled awkwardly and waved back, feeling like I was in some kind of feel-good movie.

Aunt Susan's house was a cozy, white-brick with blue shutters, nestled at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac. It looked like something out of a postcard. Mum managed to park the car without hitting anything, which was a small miracle considering her infamous driving skills, and the fact that we're in America.

"Well, what do you think?" Mum asked, trying to sound upbeat. I could see the worry in her eyes, though. This move was hard on both of us, but I had insisted on moving for a fresh start.

"It's... different," I replied, trying to find the right words. It was nice, in a way.

Aunt Susan came out to greet us, a warm smile on her face. "Welcome, George! We're so happy to have you here."

"Thanks, Aunt Susan," I said, trying to match her enthusiasm.

"Your room is at the end of the hall,"

Inside, the house was spacious and bright, with wooden floors and big windows that let in lots of light. I carried my suitcase upstairs, finding my room at the end of the hall. It was bare except for a bed, a desk, a mirror, and a half-drunken water bottle. Weird, but I could see potential. 

I looked in the mirror at myself. I'm short, with dark hair, and pale skin. I'm wearing a faded blue hoodie with faded blue jeans, black socks, and white Converse. I don't like how I look, so I pull my hood over my head.

I walk over to the window, looking out at the backyard where a tire swing hangs from a sturdy oak tree.

I unpacked in my room for a while, until a knock on the doorframe made me turn around. Mum stood there with a smile, holding up a plate of cookies. "I thought these might help make it feel more like home," she said, offering the plate.

I took a cookie, feeling a pang of homesickness as I bit into it. "Thanks, Mum," I said softly.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. "You made a brave choice, George. I know it will be hard at first, but I believe in you. Embrace the change and make the most of it."

I nodded, feeling a bit more encouraged. "I will. Thanks, Mum."

Later that afternoon, after Mum left to catch her flight back to London, I decided to explore the town on foot. I wandered down the street, taking in the sights and sounds. There was a diner, a bakery, a library, and even an old-fashioned movie theater. It was charming, in a way, but I still felt out of place.

As I walked, I noticed a group of boys about my age playing basketball at a park. I stopped to watch, feeling a bit envious of how easily they seemed to fit in. They seemed to be having so much fun, and I wondered if I'd ever feel that comfortable here.