So yesterday I offered part of scene and challenged myself (and anyone else who’s willing) to write the end of the scene.
Mine’s in bold after the text I provided yesterday:
Jonathan sat in his room long after the sun had gone down, thinking about the bomb his mom had dropped a few hours earlier. It pissed him off that in decisions this big, that affected everyone in the family, he and his sisters didn’t have any say in the matter. They just had to move because they were dependent on their parents. He’d learned that word at school last week. He didn’t like to be dependent on anyone. But when you’re twelve, what else can you do? Live by yourself in the wilderness like the guy in My Side of the Mountain or Hatchet? Or find a museum like those kids in From the Mixed Up Files whatever it was called?
Jonathan didn’t have any survival skills. He could barely make macaroni and cheese by himself. So what was left?
He couldn’t think of anything right now, but something was stirring. He wanted to come up with a way to stay. A way that made sense, that his parents couldn’t call crazy because it wasn’t.
A way that might actually work.