Experimenting with colored font... Ahem. To my reviewer so far: Thanks, I'll
try to combine some of the chapters, most of them are short. No. This will
not be slash nor will anything else I write. There are too many slashes out
there, in my opionion.
And now, to the story! I don't have any more paragraph titles so I'll just call them by number.
"Pietro Andrew Maximoff!" his mother was pissed. Not only did he get home after dark, missing his helmet and with rocks in his knees and a twisted ankle, but he had deliberately missed out on dinner. The one thing that Mrs. Maximoff insisted he is present for.
He stared at the linoleum on the kitchen floor as his foster mother stood over him, her pretty blue eyes boiling with rage. His clothes were torn and he smelled of sweat. His new friend would probably be in trouble too. Good for him, Pietro though bitterly. It was his fault anyway.
"Did you here me mister?" his mother snapped, boxing his ears stoutly when he didn't answer her. "I asked you where have you been?"
Pietro looked up at her, his eyes tearing. "We went to the haunted mansion," he told her, summoning what little of his dignity he had left.
"A haunted mansion!" his mom was fuming now, she banged her hand on the blue tiled counter top and glared out the window. "I don't want you to be hanging out with that Daniels boy if he's getting you into this," she told him, looking down at his tear-stained face.
"Go to your room, you don't want to be late for school in the morning." As he passed her to march up the carpeted steps to his room, she gave him a hard smack on the bottom.
If Pietro had thought his mother looked pissed, his father must have been super pissed. When his foster father came home from his new job at the car repair place, he had marched straight up the steps and gave Pietro a little
lecture about being out after dark and not telling mom where you were
going. Fists included.
Pietro sat still on his mother's plush vanity chair as she applied powdered foundation to his bruise. "We don't want the school people to think we beat you, okay honey?" she had said in a sickeningly sweet voice that said she
didn't really care what happened to him, she just cared what the school
board would think.
He barely had time to shovel down some vanilla yogurt straight from the container when his foster mom dragged him towards the awaiting school bus. He sighed to himself and trudged up the metal stairs and stood at the front
of the bus, looking around for a seat.
The black padded seats weren't even half full yet. There were a few younger girls sitting it the back seat and a scattering of other kids, but Pietro
didn't really want to sit with them.
And now, to the story! I don't have any more paragraph titles so I'll just call them by number.
"Pietro Andrew Maximoff!" his mother was pissed. Not only did he get home after dark, missing his helmet and with rocks in his knees and a twisted ankle, but he had deliberately missed out on dinner. The one thing that Mrs. Maximoff insisted he is present for.
He stared at the linoleum on the kitchen floor as his foster mother stood over him, her pretty blue eyes boiling with rage. His clothes were torn and he smelled of sweat. His new friend would probably be in trouble too. Good for him, Pietro though bitterly. It was his fault anyway.
"Did you here me mister?" his mother snapped, boxing his ears stoutly when he didn't answer her. "I asked you where have you been?"
Pietro looked up at her, his eyes tearing. "We went to the haunted mansion," he told her, summoning what little of his dignity he had left.
"A haunted mansion!" his mom was fuming now, she banged her hand on the blue tiled counter top and glared out the window. "I don't want you to be hanging out with that Daniels boy if he's getting you into this," she told him, looking down at his tear-stained face.
"Go to your room, you don't want to be late for school in the morning." As he passed her to march up the carpeted steps to his room, she gave him a hard smack on the bottom.
If Pietro had thought his mother looked pissed, his father must have been super pissed. When his foster father came home from his new job at the car repair place, he had marched straight up the steps and gave Pietro a little
lecture about being out after dark and not telling mom where you were
going. Fists included.
Pietro sat still on his mother's plush vanity chair as she applied powdered foundation to his bruise. "We don't want the school people to think we beat you, okay honey?" she had said in a sickeningly sweet voice that said she
didn't really care what happened to him, she just cared what the school
board would think.
He barely had time to shovel down some vanilla yogurt straight from the container when his foster mom dragged him towards the awaiting school bus. He sighed to himself and trudged up the metal stairs and stood at the front
of the bus, looking around for a seat.
The black padded seats weren't even half full yet. There were a few younger girls sitting it the back seat and a scattering of other kids, but Pietro
didn't really want to sit with them.