Nick
My feet scuff through the half-frozen-mud covered streets; it's cold but not enough to force me inside. My lovely parents have just informed me that they're planning to send me clear across the world to England for college in just a few months. Forget the life I've built here, forget all the friends I'll be leaving behind, let's just ship me off to the home country. The thought of it angers me further and I kick a clump of brown ice so it soars forward twenty feet and smashes into a pile of empty crates. The pyramid falls with a crash, making me juml, and apparently alerting the shopkeeper to my presence. A massive man with s beard sticks his head out the window and begins shouting obsceneties at me. I duck my head, stuff my hands into my coat pockets, and hurry on.
"There you are! Mother is looking for you, she and dad are very angry with you, you'd better get home quick. Dad's promised he won't flog you." It's my brother, Alex. He enters the alley in which I sit and leans against the dirty brick wall, apparently waiting for me to follow him. For a moment I sit there, thinking about what to do. On the one hand, Alex and I generally don't get along, so I could be walking right into a trap. It's possible, probable even, that I'm in for the lashing of a lifetime. On the other hand though, there are those occasional moments when Alex isn't truely terrible. Maybe he's trying to help, for once.
In the end I decide to go with him. Slowly, stiffly, I get to my feet. I must have been sitting there for a while, my bones and muscles scream at me as I try to stretch them out. Punching Alex in the arm playfully, he grins and leads the way out of the alley.
Our house is on a busy street in the richer part of town. All the houses look the same to me, with their front porches and green doors and second floor balconies. We aren't rich, exactly, but my father runs the general store and owns the saloon and barbershop, so we've never been left to want anything. When I stomp my way up the garden path with my brother in tow, my mother hears and throws open the kitchen window.
"Nichols Adams, where have you been?" she demands of me, drying her hands on her apron, "Your father and I are very disappointed in you. Just because you aren't happy with our decision does not give you the right to storm off like that! You get right inside, young man, your father is waiting for you."
I scowl at her and shove my hands deeper into my pockets. Alex follows me into the sitting room and casually lingers by the fireplace as if warming himself. I know better than that; he never passed up on an opportunity to watch me getting yelled at. Our father sits in a stuffed armchair by the window, smoking a pipe and looking out at the street.
"Sit down, Nicholas." I obey, my eyes on the floor. "Alexander, go to your studies. Your tudor stopped by while you were out, he says you've been falling behind." I smirk at him as he shuffles out, looking obviously disappointed. My father clears his throat pointedly and my eyes snap back to the floor, ashamed.
"Nicholas," he sighs, "I know you do not want to leave. This is yous home, I understand that. But you must see that this is for your own benefit. College will give you new opportunities. It will open up doors for your future. With a proper education under your belt, you will be able to provide for your family as I provide for mine."
"But fathe" " I begin
"Nicholas, my decision is final," he thunders, staing up, "you are going to England and I will hear no more about it, are we clear? Now get out of my sight."