The Final Call

Dinner

                I went downstairs into the kitchen. I sat down at the medium sized wooden table. My dad was sitting across from me and my younger brother ran in and sat next to me. My mom walked up to the table with a big bowl of spaghetti. I scooped a large portion of pasta on to my white, ceramic, square plate. As I ate I pondered the reasoning behind the square plate.

                Lost in thought I’d barely noticed my family as I mindlessly shoveled the pasta into my mouth. I was brought back when my brother punched my arm. “Ow! What was that for?” I ask while I punch him back.

“Mom is trying to talk to you!” he says.

“What is it mom?” I ask her while eat more food.

“I was just wondering how Austin was doing…” she said. My breath caught. Why do you insist on causing pain, oh mother why?

“He’s doing okay. The people at the hospital are surprised at his recovery speed though,” I say as I finish the last bite of food on my plate. My mom tries to say something in reply but I announce I’m going up to my room for the night and not to bother me because I’ll be writing.                

                That ended all uncomfortable conversations. I went and set my plate in the sink. Then I climbed the staircase up to the second floor. I walked down the wood flood of the hallway and turned right into my room. I switched my playlist to a mix of classical and modern instrumentals and opened up my laptop.

                While I waited for it to power on I grabbed the three inch binder sitting on my desk. I opened it and flipped to the section marked Fairview. And found my character chart for the main characters of my new story. We had Hanna, an American teenage girl who always seems to fall in with a bad crowd. She is, in my mind, short but well built with a pixie cut she dyes different colors every week. But this is what I do to distract myself.