Grove

Jack

Jack doesn't have very many friends. In fact, he doesn't have any at all, expect for the people who took him in after he came up being a storked baby. Actually, they were more like family to him. Two older girls, who were about in they're twenties, an old man, and his wife. Even a black cat who would always stalk him in the night when he got up to get a drink of water, watching and waiting for the right moment to attack.

Little Jack was only a 14 year old boy. In his country, he was considered an adult. He always tried acting like one, but there was something more that he wanted than to be an adult. He wanted to be a child, only for a day or two. He never had the chance to do that, always delivering parts, tools, whatever for the old man's customers. When he saw kids his age on the streets playing a game of cards or with a ball, he would take this as an opportunity to be something that he's never had a chance to be.

But...

The kids would always push him away, as if he was some monster who they saw in they're dreams. Maybe he was, or he thought so. Was there something wrong with him? What exactly could it be that bothered the other kids so much? Sometimes the two twenty year olds, who lived with him, understood his problems, sometimes they didn't. Sometimes they would make fun of him, or giggle behind his back. The elderly woman would always be there to say "Stop that at once, or the both of you will have to find another place to live."

The threat would always get both of the young women to shut they're giggle boxes. It was a little funny to Jack, but he always tried not to show it. 

The old woman found Jack on her doorstep one snowy night, wrapped up in numbers of blankets to keep him warm. Jack was a quiet baby, and almost had no reason to bawl, but only when his dipper was full or when it was time for him to eat. The old man liked Jack, and thought of him as his own son. The woman, was a mother figure to Jack. He loved her like she was his own mother. He loved the old man too, but he'd never say this. The old man acted like an uncle who would always joke around to put smiles on sad faces. The old man's name was George Rigal, and the old woman's name was Maéva Rigal. They were married, of course.

Jack forcefully moved his feet through the snow packed side walk that belonged to the old city. He groaned, clutching to the bag he's always take with him on deliveries. "Can't the day just get over with?" He desperately wanted to go back to the house on the hill to have a seat in the large front room and rest his feet.

It was daylight, the afternoon. In only a few hours, it would get dark, but it felt so far away with how Jack was feeling on this day. He groaned again after looking up in George's shop window to see the sign he hated most in the world. It was a sign that was almost always directed to him. It meant that he did something wrong before walking out the door. 

"andouille"

Jack felt the need to smash the window out. This word meant he was being called a dummy by the old man. What did he do this time? Jack gently pushed the shop door open. A bell rang from above his head. The ball was supposed to be some sort of alarm that was always triggered when somebody had came... but the old man said it was something else. The old man would say "It means it's just another blaireau coming through my door."

Right, was he one of those assholes? Jack asked George only one time, and one time only "What if it's me or Maéva who's coming through?" He received a huge smile from the old man. The old man said "My lovely woman and my va te faire voir  of a son is coming in". 

Jack didn't understand it, but what the old man had called him, meant "you're admonishing someone to be seen somewhere else."