Since Preschool (CURRENTLY EDITING)

Playdates to Classmates

It was the middle of summer and two little boys are playing soccer in their front yard while their mother plants roses in the garden lining the red house.

The black-haired boy went to kick the ball away from his brown-eyed brother, but he missed and kicked his brother's shin, making him fall with a yelp of pain. "Toonz!?" The younger boy's bright eyes widened as he crouched down next to his teary-eyed brother. Their mother rushed over, gardening spade still in hand, and carefully picked up her oldest son.

"Luke! Are you okay, hon? Let's get ya an ice pack." she carried Luke inside while he held his injured shin. Jonathan's eyes watered with guilt and he sniffled. They weren't really brothers, Jon's real parents passed away, but he was given to Luke's mom since she was his godmother. Luke's dad unfortunately didn't want to take Jonathan in, he didn't want to take care of a kid that wasn't his, but Luke's mom refused to leave Jon alone. Jon already felt bad for splitting up Luke's parents, and now he went and hurt his brother.

"Why are you sad?" a voice broke his thoughts. Jon looked up and saw a dark-skinned boy who seemed a bit older then him. The boy was standing on the sidewalk next to his yard. Jon sniffled again. "I huwt Toonz.. He pobly don't want to be mah bwoter anymowe.." Jon started actually crying, and the boy came over to him and ruffled his already messy hair.

"It's okay! Family loves you no matter what! Just make sure to say sorry. Momma says you should always say sorry when you do something bad." The boy smiled down at him and Jon wiped his eyes with his long blue shirt sleeve before standing up and hugging the nice boy.

"Thankss! Mah name's Jonatan. I wive in dis howse." he pointed back at the medium-sized house. The boy nodded and held out a hand to shake with Jon's.

"I'm Mark. I moved here last week and I live across the street. I'm six years old. How old are you?" Jon shook his hand and looked at the white and tan house across the street. Then he held up three fingers to answer Mark's question. "I'm dis many," he said. Mark nodded with a smile.

"Jonny? Oh, who is this?" Jon's mom came back outside, Luke followed after her, limping a bit. Mark waved to Jon's mom and Luke.

"I'm Mark, I live across the street." Luke pulled Jon back a bit, resting an arm on the shorter boy's head and giving Mark a suspicious look.

"Why are ya talking to my bro?" Luke asked, his southern accent more apparent than his brother's. Jon was happy that Luke still called him his brother, but wanted to defend Mark.

"Mark 's my new fwiend!" Jon chipped in. Luke stopped squinting and smiled at Mark, the older boy returning the smile. "Okay. I'm Luke, Jon's brother." Mark nodded. "Hi!"

"How nice! Mark, are you new to this neighborhood? Where are your parents?" Ms. Patterson asked kindly.

Mark nodded, "I moved here last week. My parents are finishing unpacking stuff and they said I should greet the neighbors." Ms. Patterson smiled softly, "Welcome to the neighborhood! Maybe you could play soccer with my boys?"
Jon bounced on his toes, "Yeah! Play with us!"
Mark chuckled, "Alright." and the boys ran off to play.

-

Four year old David Nagle woke up to the sounds of loud beeping. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes, trying not to wake up his sister or brother as he went too look out the window of their shared room.
There was a moving truck backing into the driveway of the previously empty white house next to their green one. A black car pulled up beside the truck and after a man stepped out, a pale brunette boy hopped out, putting on some black sunglasses due to the bright rising sun.

David's eyes shot wide open and he raced out of his room, charging down the hallway, skipping down the stairs, and flinging the front door open while ignoring his mother asking where he was rushing to. The skinny boy ran up to the father and son, not caring that he was only in his dog patterned  onesie and his black hair all over the place. The father and son duo looked at him, confused.