Hey guys, sorry for the lack of updates and short chapters! Unfortunately, the latter theme will remain, but now that I'm on summer vacation, I'm free to write a whole lot more. I'm sorry if this chapter is a little dicey; it was originally intended to come later in the fic, but that didn't work out. Review!
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In two sunny Californian houses, not a block away from each other, a relatively similar scene was being played out. In one, a cerulean-eyed boy of seven walked down the stairs. He was alert and fully dressed in dark jean cut-offs and a short sleeved, black body-armor shirt. His mother, who was preparing breakfast, noticed the silent boy only when he plopped himself down in one of the kitchen chairs.
"Good morning Julian," she said, dropping a kiss on his snowy white head, "Your father's at work, and--" she stopped, examining her son more closely, "I don't remember getting you that shirt."
"You must've," Julian replied, "it was in my dresser," For an instant the woman wondered if her son was laughing on her, but there was no sign of derision on his innocent face. Either way, she didn't press him, nor did she say anything about his all black ensemble; a lot of kids went through a dark stage, right? Most just went through it later...
"I suppose," his mother finally responded, snapping back to reality, "you didn't leave your pajamas lying on the floor, did you?"
"No..." Julian replied, suddenly very interested in pouring milk into his bowl. He wasn't lying exactly, he was just... withholding information, like the fact that his Bat Man sleep set was in a rumpled pile on his unmade bed. His mother gave him a look but didn't pursue the topic, knowing by now that with Julian you don't get anymore information than what he gives you.
One bowl of chocolaty cereal later, Julian looked up and announced,
"I'm going to the park now."
"You've been going there an awful lot lately, any reason?" Wondered his curious mother in response to Julian's not-request.
"I met someone," Julian shrugged, "a friend."
After hearing this, his mother asked no further questions of her normally antisocial son, smiling to herself as he walked out the door.
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"Can I go to the playground today?" Jenny Thornton asked, though her mouth was full of pancake, so it sounded more like "cann iho oohthe laymoun oohay?" Jenny's mother understood though,
"Of course sweetie," the older woman answered, "I'm sorry we've been so busy lately," she went on, "maybe in a few days we can all go out together."
"'Kay," Jenny agreed, already moving to the door.
"Why so anxious kiddo?" Her father asked, looking up from his paper, "made any new friends?" Jenny nodded eagerly, her blonde ponytail bouncing,
"Yeah!" She exclaimed, "A whole bunch!"
"Oh?" Mrs. Thornton asked, knowing her daughter's tendency to exaggerate slightly as all children do, "How many?"
"Three!" Was the enthusiastic reply.
"Wow," Jenny's father said, "better go off and play with them then."
"Thanks daddy," Jenny skipped over and kissed her father and the cheek before hurrying out the door and to the playground.
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You know the drill, you read, now review!