After the war (Solangelo)

A/N and story teaser

Guess who's home!!! And sick! Oh that's right! ME! I have a cold, and as a result, an ear infection too. Yay. Ugh. Actually, I've been home since Monday. But still. Anyway, I was at Interlochen Arts Camp in Travers City Michigan, majoring in Visual Arts. I took a writing course, and one day I had nothing to do and was in my cabin which was when I wrote the two oneshots that are the two previous chapters, as well as a story that is at the moment unfinished. I was wondering if I should post it? I'll give you a teaser to see what you guys think, and if you'll read it. (BTW, it's not Solangelo). The photo above is George's bedroom.

TEASER

Dear Mr and Mrs. Daniels,

             Thank you so much for your. . . . "NO!" I let out a frustrated groan, my head falling onto the glossy card on my desk. How do I write a thank you card to people you dislike!? "George!" My mom screamed. "Are you done with your thank yous?" "Nope! I don't know what to say!" I shouted back. I heard the faint moan of stairs, and my door opened, before more stairs creeked. My mom puffed, one foot on the top step, one on my bedroom floor. "I don't know why you wanted your room in the attic." She grumbled, and I shrugged. She said this pretty much every time she came up. Which was everyday. She walked over to where I was sitting. No one needed to duck, since the ceilings were high. My room did have a slightly slanted roof. It had two windows, since it technically was a corner room. But, it did have a small sun window since it's the roof, in between the bed and desk, but a little farther out into the middle of the room, that I can, if stood on tip-toes, (I'm 6 feet exact), reach and open, allowing me to climb to the roof. My bed was in the corner, with a bedside table next to it. I had one window at the foot of my bed, in front of an architecture desk, that I use for my art and homework. I have a wheely-chair in front of my desk, because I'm an immature five year old at heart. My art stuff was next to that, and bigger cases were underneath the desk. The bathroom was in between the art stuff, and book shelves on the next wall. I also had a book shelf on the wall across from my desk, next to the stairs. On the other side of the stairs, is my walk in closet. The head of my bed faces neighboring houses, while my desk faces the street, which is West. I spun back to the desk, as my mom looked over my shoulder. "George!" She groaned. "You've done, what, three cards?" I shrugged innocently in reply. She rolled her eyes, but a smile was tugging at her lips. Suddenly, there was a squeal, before tiny feet pounded up my bedroom stairs, a smile immediately spreading across my face. I spun back around in time for my four year old sister Lucy to launch herself at me. I caught her easily, (being an ice hockey goalie, and a catcher for baseball helped, especially in the strength category), hugging her to me and spinning around in the center of the room, still in the chair. Lulu shrieked with laughter, and I chuckled. She sat in my lap, as I pushed us back to the desk, gliding backwards. Mom watched us, an affectionate smile on her face. "Come on Lu." She said. "Let's let Georgie to his work." I rolled my eyes as mom used the special nickname Lucy had came up with for me. "No!" Lucy clung tighter to my neck. "Yeah!" I pouted, trying not to laugh, as Lucy leaned backwards, her head upside down. I had my hands hovering beneath her back just in case, but I needn't worry. She's most definitely part monkey. Mom chuckled, rolling her eyes at us. "Lu, George needs to write his thank you cards for his birthday presents." I'd just turned seventeen a week ago, and recently had a few close friends, as well as family and family friends, come to celebrate. Because you know, only seventeen once right? Even though I saw everyone four years ago for my Bar-Mitzvah. Yes, I'm Jewish. No, I'm not a boy. I had my Bat-Mitzvah 4 years ago. I was 12. "It's alright mom." I said smiling down at Lucy. "Lulu can stay." Lulu was my special name for her. Mom hesitated, but eventually nodded, and leaned down to kiss both our foreheads, before walking down the stairs. Half-way down, I heard the stairs stop complaining, and I knew she's stopped descending. "Your father will be home soon. What would you like for dinner?" She called up to us, and my smile widened. A family dinner. Dad had been swamped with work, and we'd barely seen him. He's a lawyer. A good one too, from what I hear. "Mac and cheese sound good Lulu?" "Yeah!" Her tiny adorable hands clapping, as she laid her head on my collarbone, unable to reach the flat of my shoulder. "Mac and cheese, please!" I said. "Coming right up!" Mom said, as she walked down the rest of the stairs and closed the door.

                That was three years ago. Right before it happened. Before our family was torn apart. That was the last time we were truly happy.

So. . . . Yeah! If you see any spelling or grammer mistakes, please point them out! Thanks! Also, comment if I should turn this into a book!