Here it is! The final chapter of History! I'm actually glad to be done with it. I hope the sequel will come easier for me.
But I may not be able to update for a while—our French exchange student is coming back, and we have a lot of stuff planned. So I'm sorry about that, and I'll try my best to have the first chapter of the sequel up before too long!
Thanks to everyone who favorited, subscribed, or reviewed to this story!!! Also thanks to those who are just reading it! I hope you've all enjoyed it this far, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Enjoy!
The next day was an unusually cheery one in Scotland weather-wise—especially considering the fact that it had rained all day yesterday.
The sun had decided to come out today, although there were still a few clouds in the sky.
Don McGregor had gone off to work a while ago, but Kristen had taken the day off to stay home with Antoinette and they boys.
"I'm bored!" (Guess who?)
"Not again..." Oliver mumbled, trying to concentrate on his drawing despite his whining friend.
The two had had plans to do more exploring today, but they'd quickly finished with that. They were, after all, experienced explorers after yesterday.
"Watcha drawin' Olive?" the boredom-prone Italian said as he leaned over the Frenchman's shoulder in an attempt to see what the boy was drawing.
"A picture," came the vague answer. "And don't call me Olive!"
The two boys were in Oliver's room. Oliver was lying on his bed with a sketchpad, drawing whatever he happened to see out the window. Enrique had wandered in from his own room earlier and joined the younger boy on the bed. Inevitably, the blond had gotten bored.
There were several moments of silence before Enrique sighed dramatically.
Oliver glanced at him. The Italian was sprawled on his back—taking up half of the bed. He was staring up at the ceiling and looking pathetically bored. The blond had become a master at that look over his many years of being bored.
Just as Oliver was getting back to work, he heard his friend sigh again. The green-haired boy rolled his eyes and continued with his drawing. Then Enrique sighed louder—it was obvious he was trying to get Oliver's attention. The French boy had no intention of giving the other boy his attention, but then Enrique sighed even louder and he knew that the sighing wasn't going to stop unless he spoke to the Italian.
"What are you sighing for Enri?"
"I'm bored," came the usual response.
"Obviously..."
"Can't we do something fun Olive?" Enrique whined, once again using Oliver's hated nickname.
"This is fun," Oliver informed his friend. "And I thought I told you to stop calling me Olive!"
"But this isn't fun for me!" the blond protested. "All I get to do is sit here and watch you draw!" He had chosen to ignore the 'Olive' part, he would never stop using it anyway. He thought it suited his best friend very well.
"It's fun for me though," the Frenchman said in a slightly snobby way as he kept drawing.
"Because you're the one drawing!" Enrique exclaimed as he sat up—only to flop back down on his side so he was facing the other boy. He was glaring at Oliver. The younger boy was no help when it came to curing Enrique's boredom.
"You could be drawing too you know," The green-haired child informed his friend.
Then again, maybe he was kind of good at curing boredom.
"Good idea Oli!" Enrique thanked the younger boy.
Oliver simply nodded and continued to draw his picture. He was enjoying the silence.
"Oliver?"
The silence hadn't lasted long.
"What is it now?" Oliver asked, irritated at being distracted yet again.
"...I don't have any paper," the blond said. "Or a pencil."
The Frenchman sighed. "Here you go," he said, tearing out a piece of paper from his sketchbook for the older boy before finding an extra pencil that the Italian could use. He immediately handed these things over, wanting to get back to his drawing as soon as possible.
"Thank you!"
Once more, there was peace and quiet. But of course, this couldn't last long.
After a while of peaceful drawing, Oliver heard the sound of a pencil poking holes in paper. He looked over to find that that was exactly what his best friend was doing.
"Enrique, what are you doing?"
"Drawin'," Enrique said as though the answer was obvious. The Italian's paper was covered in mindless and shapeless scribbles and was sprouting holes by the second.
"No you're not. You're scribbling and poking holes in the paper! That's not drawing," Oliver informed the blond.
"Well I'm sorry we can't all be great artists like you!" Enrique said as he continued with his own form of drawing. "Besides, when you did this, you said it was abstract art."
"That's because mine had at least some thought behind it. Yours is just pointless," Oliver told him.
"How can you put thought behind scribbles and holes?" Enrique wanted to know.
"Not how you're doing it." the Frenchman said as he went back to his non-abstract drawing.
"Whatever," Enrique said cheerily, "This is fun." Then he said: "I need a new piece of paper Oli."
"In a minute..." Oliver muttered, finishing a detail before tearing out another empty page for his friend.
"Yay!" Enrique exclaimed excitedly as he attacked this paper in the same way as the one before. Although this one had more swirls.
Oliver winced as the Italian began poking holes in the paper once again. "Is that necessary? You're gonna ruin the paper if you put too many holes in it."
"Yes it's necessary," Enrique informed his green-haired friend. "It's my signature style."
Eventually, the blond used up all the space on this piece of paper as well and was about to ask for another when he spotted Oliver's drawing. It was of the window and everything beyond it—the tees, hills, and animals. At the moment, the young artist was working on a bird that had perched on the window sill. It was a surprisingly good picture.
"That's a very good drawing Olive!" Enrique said, the nickname slipping out.
"Don't call me that!"
"Sorry Oliv—Oli," the Italian said, correcting himself. "That is a very nice picture though."
"Thank you," Oliver said, continuing his work.
This new artwork made Enrique curious. "What else do you have in that book?" he asked, once again leaning over Oliver's shoulder.
"More pictures," the Frenchman answered bluntly.
"Can I look at them?"
"Not right now."
"Why not?" Enrique asked, pouting slightly.
"Because I'm working," Oliver answered, refusing to look at his pouting friend.
"Please?"
"No."
"Pleeeeeaaaaaase?"
"I said later Enri!"
"But I want to look now!" The Italian protested as he sat down with his arms and legs crossed. "You're no fun." Then an idea sprang into his mind. He reached over and snatched Oliver's sketchbook and began to leaf through it.
"Enri!" the Frenchman exclaimed, trying to grab it back. All of his attempts were foiled however. "Give it back!"
"But these are very good Oli! I just want to look at them, then I'll give it back." The blond assured his friend.
"Fine." Oliver said, crossing his arms. "Just hurry up."
A couple of minutes later, Enrique came upon some empty pages. "Can I draw something in here?"
"As long as you don't take forever..." Oliver said impatiently. "Or poke holes in it," he added, remembering the blond's 'signature style'.
Enrique didn't actually take long, but that was because he had only been using his usual scribbling technique. When he finished, the Italian took that liberty of tearing out several more blank pages for himself. He then gave the sketchpad back to its original owner and settled down to do more drawing.
Oliver was shocked at the amount of paper the blond had taken. "Do you really need that much?" he asked, flipping through the pages to find the one that his friend had drawn on.
"Yep," Enrique answered while he scribbled on a fresh sheet of paper, "I work fast."
The Frenchman glanced at Enrique as he located the blond's drawing. "This is definitely not abstract Enri," Oliver informed the older boy. "It's just scribbles!"
"It is to abstract!" Enrique said, standing up for himself. "You just can't see it."
"Whatever you say..." the green-haired boy muttered, "You're the artist." Oliver then turned to where he'd started his own drawing so he could finish it.
Not much time passed, however, before a certain 'abstract artist' used up the entire stack of paper that he'd taken from Oliver's sketchpad.
"Oli, can I have more paper?"
The green-haired boy thought nothing of it, and continued to hand his friend paper whenever he asked. If it kept the Italian from getting bored, he figured he could spare a few pieces.
But Oliver's sketchbook didn't have a never-ending supply of paper, and when Enrique asked for what must have been the fifteenth time if he could have another piece of paper, the Frenchman was unable to find any.
"Enrique!" he exclaimed upon realizing what had happened. "You used up all the paper!"
"So?" Enrique wasn't overly concerned.
"That's the only sketchbook I brought! I was hoping to draw more than one picture," Oliver explained, a cross between a glare and a pout on his face.
"Sorry Oli," the Italian apologized. "I was bored."
"Then you should find other ways to entertain yourself, instead of bothering me. Nothing good ever happens when you're bored...well, most of the time nothing good happens..." Oliver climbed off of his bed and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Enrique asked as he followed his friend. He was curious and a little worried—he didn't want to get in trouble. Come to think of it, he got in trouble a lot when he got bored.
"I'm going to tell Maman what you did so she can take me to buy a new sketchbook!" the Frenchman informed the blond as they entered the hall and walked towards the stairs.
"But she might get mad at me!" Enrique was nervous. Whenever Oliver began a sentence with 'I'm going to tell Maman' it usually never ended good for the Italian.
"I don't care."
Before Enrique could protest, Oliver spotted his mother and ran down the last few stairs. "Maman!" he called, bolting into the living room as fast as he could manage. Enrique wasn't far behind him.
"Maman, Enrique used up all the paper in my sketchbook and it's the only one I brought!" Oliver tattled, putting on his best sad with a touch of angry face.
"It's not my fault!" Enrique said immediately.
Antoinette looked down at that two boys. They had managed to stop her before she could sit down and get relaxed with her tea. She glanced at Kristen (who was already settled on the couch) just long enough to shake her head before kneeling down to the boys' height and placing her tea cup on the coffee table.
Kristen smiled. These two certainly were a handful. They were as bad as Johnny—it was a good thing Robert wasn't like that. Then they might not be able to handle it!
"Must you two always get into trouble? Why can't you ever play together quietly?" The Frenchwoman asked. These two were always up to something it seemed.
"Enrique gets bored too easily," Oliver explained, "And he used up all my paper! I don't have any more." He continued with his pouting.
"Did he say he was sorry?" Antoinette inquired.
"No," Oliver answered quickly.
"Yes I did!" Enrique exclaimed indignantly. He was sure he had apologized already.
Antoinette sighed. "Why don't you apologize again Enrique? I'm sure it'll make Oliver feel better."
"But I already did!"
"No, you didn't."
"Did to! I would know if I apologized!"
"I don't remember it!"
"Boys!" Mrs. Boulanger cut in. "Just say you're sorry Enrique...it doesn't matter if you already said it."
"Fine," the Italian agreed reluctantly. I'm sorry Oli."
Oliver sniffled. "I forgive you. I just wish I had more paper so I could draw...."
Catching the hint, Antoinette sighed once more. "How about I take you to get another one?"
The Frenchman's face brightened. "Thank you Maman!" he exclaimed as he hugged her.
"You're welcome," the woman said, hugging her son back. "You're coming too Enrique, I don't really trust you here alone."
"Okay!" the blue-eyed boy said. Maybe she'd buy him his own sketchbook!
Turning back to her friend, Antoinette asked, "Kristen, do you know where I could buy Oliver a new sketchpad?"
"Not off the top of my head," the Scotswoman confessed. "But if you ask the driver he should know."
"Alright. I guess we'll have time to talk when I get back," the Frenchwoman said as she stood up. "Come on boys, get your shoes and we'll get going."
"Okay!" the two said in unison as they ran off to do as they were told...for once.
Johnny McGregor was once again sitting in his favorite window seat, which had a very interesting view. The window was on the front of the house, and you could see for miles (the house was in a pretty secluded area and the nearest neighbors were far off). But what Johnny was focusing on at the moment was the driveway. He watched as Antoinette and the two boys piled into their awaiting car and drove off.
"Where are they going?" he asked he German who was standing next to him. He had been looking out the window as well.
"I don't know...my guess would be that they're just running a few errands. They'll be back soon enough," Robert answered. "But until then they're out of your hair," he added, noticing how Johnny didn't seem to appreciate the fact that the unwanted guests were coming back.
About an hour later, the three 'unwanted guests' returned—with a surprising amount of noise. The noise was being made by Oliver and Enrique. The two seemed to be begging for something, and they were both trying to be heard over the other.
Hearing the commotion, Kristen went to see what was going on. What she saw was Antoinette looking very relieved to see her. Oliver was clutching a brand new sketchbook to his chest. Enrique had one too, his was in a shopping bag that he was carrying. Both boys were pestering the Frenchwoman.
"What's going on here?" the Scotswoman asked, crossing her arms.
The two boys both stopped speaking and Oliver looked at his mother expectantly.
Antoinette sighed before explaining. "On our way home, we passed a playground, and since it's a nice day, the boys really wanted to go. I told them we better come back and ask you first. Just in case anyone here wanted to go. They haven't stopped pestering me since!"
"Hang on," the other woman said, "Was the playground part of a park? With a fountain and bey-dishes? Across the street from a big yellow house?" (A/N: Fun fact! I changed the color of that house three times...first it was blue, then green. I finally decided it should be yellow.)
"Yes, that's the one..." Antoinette answered, a little confused by her friend's questions.
"That one's a lot of fun! They boys should love it there," Kristen said, ignoring the other woman's confusion for now. She smiled at the two boys. "Why don't you two go upstairs and put your sketchbooks away? I need to talk to Antoinette for a bit. We'll leave when you're ready."
"Okay! C'mon Oli!" Enrique said cheerfully as he grabbed the Frenchman's arm and dragged him up the stairs. He was obviously excited to get going.
When the children were out of sight, Kristen turned to her long-time friend. "An, I think the park is a great idea. It'll give the boys a chance to get to know each other better—their past interactions haven't been too friendly. But there's a problem...."
"What's that?" the other woman asked, a little concerned.
"Well, the playground you described is in the same park where Johnny and Tyler were bit by that snake," Mrs. McGregor explained. She had spoken quietly, for fear of eavesdropping children.
"Oh, we don't have to go there. We could always find another one...and Johnny doesn't have to go if he doesn't want to."
Kristen smiled slightly, reassuring her friend. "It's alright. Don and I have been trying to convince Johnny to go back there ever since Tyler died. He always refuses, although I really can't blame him. There can't be many happy memories there. But still, we both think he should go back there...I see it as a way for him to move on. Today would be as good a time as any. I'll have to talk to him..." she paused for a second. "It'll probably take some time to convince him—do you mind?"
"Since you think going to this park will help Johnny, the boys and I don't mind waiting," Antoinette answered. "As long as it doesn't take too long," she added in a lighter, joking tone.
The Scotswoman smiled gratefully. "Thank you. Johnny's not easy to convince though...but I'm almost positive he'll come—even if he refuses when I ask him. Robert should be able to get him to go." She moved towards the stairs, only to come back and say in a quieter voice, "If I'm not down in a reasonable amount of time, feel free to leave without me."
Reaching the third floor, Kristen McGregor made her way to her son's room. She knocked on the door and received no answer, so she figured both boys were in Robert's room. When she knocked on the German's door, she heard a polite "Yes?" and entered.
Both of the boys were sitting on Robert's bed. The had been playing chess, but now the game was in it's box between them. The woman guessed that the two had simply been talking before she'd come in—although about what she had no clue.
Kristen closed the door behind her and crossed the room to the bed, sitting down on the edge, closer to Johnny. "Johnny," she began, being careful of her words and tone, "I need to talk to you."
The redhead glanced at Robert before he turned so he was sitting facing his mother. "Yeah?"
"Antoinette took Oliver and Enrique out to buy new sketchbooks today, and on their way home they passed a playground that they wanted to go to," she stopped, studying her son's face. He was looking at her suspiciously—like he knew what she was going to say and didn't want her to say it. She continued nonetheless. "They came back here, and An asked if either of you wanted to go too. The only thing is, Johnny, that the playground they want to go to is in the park that you'll refuse to visit."
Johnny waited for it—he knew what was coming. His parents were always suggesting it, they always brought it up.
"And I want you to go," the Scotswoman finished, looking at her son with a stern eye. She was adamant about her decision, she hoped that he could see that.
"No," Johnny refused firmly. "I'm not going back there!"
"You don't have much of a choice Johnathon," she told him, using his full name for added effect.
"I'm not going! I don't want to go back..." Johnny protested further. He turned around and slid off the bed to sit on the floor stubbornly, trying to get out of his mother's sight.
Kristen was beginning to get really frustrated with the boy—this wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation and it was getting pretty old.
She stood and made her way around the bed, stopping when she saw her son and staring down at him until he looked up at her. "You're going to that park today Johnny—I'm sick of this! You don't want to go and you won't give me a reason. I know the memories must be hard for you, but you're going to have to get past that."
Johnny blinked up at her, then his face hardened. "I'm not going," he said stubbornly.
"Why?" she asked him, knowing full well that he wouldn't answer her—he never did.
Sure enough, the Scotsman remained silent and looked away from his mother.
The woman made a noise of frustration and turned to Robert. The German was still on his bed and had watched the whole thing in silence. "Robert, can you please talk to him?"
The young nobleman nodded. "Yes Mrs. McGregor."
"Thank you," she said, sounding only slightly relieved. She then left the room and the two boys were alone once again.
Once she was gone, Robert slid himself off the bed and sat on the floor next to Johnny.
"I don't want to go!" the redhead exclaimed.
"Why not?" Robert asked, his tome wasn't as angry as Kristen's had been, which made a big difference.
"Because it..." Johnny hesitated and stared down at the floor. "It makes me remember when I think about the park. If I went there, it would be worse."
"How do you know?" the German asked, even though Johnny's reason kind of made sense. Mrs. McGregor wanted him to convince Johnny to go, and he thought it was a good idea as well, so he decided to try his best to get the Scot to go.
Johnny shrugged pathetically and continued to stare at the ground. "It just seems like it would..." he said quietly. He really hoped they wouldn't make him go.
"You won't know until you go. But if you don't have fun this time, I promise you don't have to go back," Robert told the redhead, as a way of trying to reassure him.
"I'm not going." Johnny reminded the older boy firmly through clenched teeth.
Robert sighed. How could he convince Johnny it would be alright? Would it even be alright? Maybe Johnny was right, and it would only make his bad memories worse. It didn't really matter—the German still thought it was a good idea for Johnny to go. He agreed that the Scotsman had to get past this before he could really move on. "Johnny—"
"I'm not going! I told you—I don't want to go back." Johnny said angrily, not giving Robert a chance to speak. He looked at the other boy with his plum eyes full of anger and tears. "I'm not going back."
"Well I won't make you," Robert told him, "But your mother might..." The German stood and walked past the Scotsman towards the door.
Johnny twisted around and got up on his knees to see where the older boy was going. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to talk to your mother," the German explained without turning around. "Don't worry," he added. He then exited the room and Johnny sat back down. He almost wanted to follow Robert, but he decided to just wait here until the other boy came back.
Robert found Mrs. McGregor quickly, she hadn't gone far. He explained what Johnny had told him and some of his own thoughts. When he finished, there was a strange mix of frustration and astonishment on the woman's face.
"Honestly Robert, why does he tell these things to you and not us?" Kristen asked, expecting no answer and receiving none. "I just don't know what to do with him sometimes," she said as she shook her head. "Should I make him go or let him stay? I don't want to force him to go to the park if he's not ready...but He is going to have to go sometime. I figured he might make less of a fuss if Oliver and Enrique were around." The woman sighed. "That boy can give me a headache..."
"I think he should go—he isn't completely ready, but he probably never will be. He's just being stubborn because he doesn't know how it'll turn out. Still, I think it's safe to take him...but he should also go on his own free will. I guess I should talk to him some more and try to convince him." When Robert was done talking, he turned around and went back into his room.
Kristen watched him go, once again stunned at how much he knew about her son. Wasn't she supposed to be the psychiatrist here? And yet she couldn't understand her own son most of the time...it made her jealous, but she was happy that Robert could be here for Johnny.
"Johnny doesn't want to go?" Oliver asked, making sure he'd hear right. Johnny hadn't been very nice to the Frenchman, but he still found it hard to believe that the redhead didn't want to have fun.
"I said he might not go Oliver. That doesn't necessarily mean that he's definitely not going," Antoinette corrected her son. She had gone up to join the boys in Oliver's room after Kristen had gone upstairs. Actually, she'd only been looking for Oliver but had found both boys in his room, talking about how much fun the playground would be.
"But why not?" Oliver wondered. He knew his mother wouldn't answer him—she was always worried about him and probably didn't want to scare him. He was lucky to even know that Johnny used to have a friend that died—and he'd learned that by eavesdropping with Enrique one day. Maybe Johnny was still sad about that...maybe that's why he was so mean.
"I don't know Oliver."
The petite Frenchman knew that she probably actually did.
"He's probably scared," Enrique decided. He liked the idea of the seemingly tough Scot being scared to go to a park.
"What could he be scared of in a playground?" Oliver wanted to know.
"There's tons of stuff," the Italian informed his friend. "Bugs, falling off the top level and cracking your head, accidentally going down the slide backwards, getting stuck on the monkey bars," he rattled off a few examples.
Antoinette was glad when he stopped. She didn't want Oliver to worry about those things happening—she herself had already begun to worry about it.
The green-haired boy shuddered. "Don't scare me Enri!"
"Sorry Olive," Enrique apologized with his charming smile.
"Don't call me Olive!" Oliver reminded his friend for what was literally the thousandth time.
"Come on you two, let's go wait downstairs," the Frenchwoman said, effectively stopping the argument before it could really start.
On their way down the hall towards the stairs, they came near Johnny's room (which was next to Robert's where the German was still trying to convince the redhead to come to the park).
Enrique chose this moment to bring up his theory once again. "I'm almost positive that Johnny's too scared to go to the playground! Oh well, I guess we'll have fun anyway."
"Shh! Enri, that's his room, he'll hear you!" Oliver warned his friend.
"I know," Enrique informed his friend as he grabbed the other boy's arm, stopping them as close to Johnny's room as they were getting. Then he spoke louder, "Too bad Johnny's scared to come with us, isn't it Oli?"
"Don't drag me into this!" Oliver whispered. Then, remembering how rude Johnny had been, he changed his mind. "Yes it is! Maybe if he wasn't so scared, he could have fun!"
"Enrique, Oliver, that's enough," Antoinette said as she continued walking without glancing back. The boys followed, Enrique a little reluctantly. He'd hoped Johnny would get angry and come storming out of his room—he found that he got satisfaction out of annoying the Scotsman. That, and he also kind of wanted Johnny to come to the playground...then he could really get on his nerves!
Little did the two troublemakers know it, but they'd actually done something good by trying to annoy Johnny.
"Johnny! Don't! You don't want to get in trouble!" Robert said as he grabbed the redhead's arm to stop him from bursting out of the room.
Their conversation had stopped abruptly when they'd heard Enrique's voice in the hall. The two were in Robert's room, which was right beside Johnny's, so they'd heard everything Enrique had said. The Italian's words had of course offended Johnny, and Robert was trying to get the younger boy to calm down some. The Scot wasn't exactly cooperating.
"He's going to get it now! I am not scared—he has no idea!" Johnny growled, trying to pull his arm out of the German's grasp. He didn't manage this, however, and Robert was able to drag him back behind the bed where they had been sitting.
"Relax," Robert said, releasing the Scot's arm.
Johnny crossed his arms. "I'm not scared," he grumbled. Then he stood up and headed for the door.
"Johnny..." Robert said as he followed the other boy, thinking he might be about to attack Enrique.
"I'm going to the park," Johnny said quietly yet stubbornly.
The German stopped in his tracks. That was surprising. He wandered if the Italian had done that on purpose....
"You coming?"
Robert blinked a few times to pull himself away from his thoughts and saw Johnny waiting for him in the hall. He nodded in response and followed Johnny into the hallway, closing his bedroom door behind him.
The ride to the playground was an interesting one, for lack of a better word.
Kristen had decided to drive her own car, not wanting to attract too much attention. Antoinette was in the passenger seat, and the boys were all in the back—which was a little uncomfortable, seeing as the seat was only built for three people. It was a good thing the boys were still young—if they'd been any older, then they wouldn't have fit.
The whole ride had consisted of Enrique whispering to Oliver (about a certain redhead). The Frenchman would giggle occasionally, but he always felt a little bad when he did. Johnny was glaring at them as though he knew that he was their topic of conversation. Well, Enrique's anyway—Oliver wasn't participating as much.
Robert saw the look on Johnny's face and was thankful that when they had gotten into the car, they'd kept the redhead and the blond separated.
When they finally reached the park, the women made sure the boys all climbed out of the same side of the car (the passenger side) so none of them got out onto the road.
As soon as Oliver and Enrique were out of the car they ran to go play. Robert followed them out of the car, but turned around to face the Scotsman. Johnny hadn't moved when the car had stopped, and eh was still sitting in his seat. Although he had leaned towards the open door to try and get a better view of the park.
"You coming?" Robert asked.
"Yeah," Johnny answered, sliding out of the car.
Robert closed the door and the two of them made their way over to the playground—but at a much slower pace than Oliver and Enrique.
The German made his way over to the swings, deciding to sit and watch the other three.
It took a lot of courage for Johnny not to follow the older boy. Instead, he stayed rooted to the spot. Right on the outside of the playground where the grass met the mulch. He let his eyes wander over the familiar setting and they eventually settled on the far side of the park. Right over there, behind some of the trees, in a secluded part of the park was where it had happened.
In his pocket, Johnny clutched Salamulyon tightly. He hadn't been here in a long time, and he'd never intended to come back. The only reason he was even here now was Enrique. He wanted to be angry, but for some reason he wasn't. This wasn't what he'd expected. Instead of remembering the accident and feeling sad, he actually felt better—like he had defeated something. It didn't make sense, but he didn't really care at the moment.
Johnny was pulled out of his thoughts by a shout from none other than the blond Italian. Apparently, Enrique had found an 'awesome rock' as he described it. The Scotsman smirked.
Without warning, the redhead darted towards the blond and snatched the rock out of his hand.
"Hey!" Enrique exclaimed, trying to get his rock back. Johnny was currently holding it out of the Italian's reach (even though they were around the same height, this was still possible). "Give it back Johnny!"
The older boy was still smirking as he ran for the actual playground. "No! You'll have to come and get it back yourself if you want it blondie."
Oliver slid down the slide. He'd watched Johnny take the rock from the top, and had decided to flee from the area where the Scot currently was, so he could stay away from the fight. He didn't really want to get in the way...especially since Johnny was carrying a rock. He saw Enrique take off after the redhead. The Frenchman backed away from the slide to get a better view of the chase.
Robert sighed. He was glad Johnny seemed to have gotten over his fear and appeared to be having a good time—he just wished that the Scotsman's idea of a good time didn't involve terrorizing Enrique or Oliver. The German got off of his swing and walked over to where Oliver was standing to monitor the situation.
"Johnny! Just give it back to him!" The Frenchman called.
"Stay out of this girly!" Johnny shouted back, causing the green-haired boy to huff and cross his arms.
"Boys!" Antoinette and Kristen said as one from their spot on a nearby bench. Enrique and Johnny both froze—the latter still smirking.
"Come here both of you." Kristen demanded.
The blond slowly made his way off of the playground and over to the two women. The Scotsman, however, had no intention of being yelled at just yet. Instead, he made his way to the slide that Oliver had just gone down and slid down it himself, still holding Enrique's precious rock.
When he got to the bottom, Robert was waiting for him. The older boy was holding his hand out for the rock. Rolling his eyes, Johnny handed it over before he caught the look in Robert's eyes and headed over to the bench to allow his mother to talk to him about his behavior.
The redhead was halfway there when he saw the angry look that Enrique was giving him. He stopped and smirked slightly, then he turned around and ran back to where Robert was standing with the 'awesome rock'.
"Johnny!" Mrs. McGregor called after her son, assuming he was trying to escape getting in trouble. He ignored her.
"Can I have that rock?" Johnny asked once he reached the German.
Deciding to trust the Scot, Robert handed it over.
Johnny then ran over to the bench and handed the rock back to Enrique—the blond looked surprised to get it back, especially from Johnny himself.
Maybe Johnny could be nice sometimes...it was very strange to think about.
Kristen was also surprised by her son's action. Maybe there was hope for Johnny—maybe he'd be able to make friends with these boys after all.
Back with Oliver and Robert, the German sighed. "Johnny can give you a headache most of the time, but there are times when he can surprise you."
"That's funny," Oliver said, "Maman says the same thing about Enrique."
"The whole headache and surprise thing?" Robert asked, turning his head to look at the younger boy.
"No, just the headache part," the Frenchman answered, earning a rare smile from Robert.
'Well,' the German thought, 'At least I won't ever have to deal with the both of them at once again, after this week is over.' Although, Oliver seemed to have at least some sense...actually, maybe he wouldn't mind seeing Oliver and Enrique again some time. They'd been entertaining and had, in their own way, helped Johnny.
But Robert also knew that the Scotsman had a long way to go. Hopefully, in the future, he would have more than just Robert to help him.
Well, there you have it. It's over! I can finally concentrate on writing the sequel—no more little kids! They are not easy to write.
Speaking of the sequel, I cannot seem to think of a title, and any suggestions you have would be welcome!!
I thank you if you've managed to read this story all the way to the end and have put up with my pathetic excuse for writing! I also apologize for any errors in spelling or grammar!
A little footnote thing: The name Antoinette is a very old French name—what I mean by that is that it's a grandmother's name. XD I still thought it fit her very well, her family probably would've picked an old-fashioned name anyway.
Also, I'm sorry if the ending is lame or crappy, or if it just doesn't fit. I also apologize if the story has been a bit bipolar—happy mood one second, depressed mood the next. I hope you enjoyed it all the same, and I hope you'll stick around for the sequel!!
Review?