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MidReal Story
Brother From Another Mother
Scenario:a boy named James lived in New York City as a high school student and fixing cars and making pizza and making books you can tell that he really like what he does in life and making music and doing great in school.
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James
passionate, and optimistic. James spends his free time fixing cars with his father, making pizza with his friends, and creating music. He loves playing guitar and writes songs about life's challenges and triumphs. Raised in Manhattan, he is inspired by the city's energy. Despite dealing with bullies at school, James remains focused on his dreams, aiming to attend Juilliard for music composition.
Anthony
competitive, and artistic. Anthony often participates in the city's events such as parades and festivals. His playful nature often leads to sibling rivalry with Bryce, but he looks up to his older brother James. Artistic like James, Anthony enjoys drawing and dreams of becoming a professional cartoonist one day, often seeking advice from his brother.
Bryce
humorous, and carefree. Bryce shares a deep bond with James, often joining him in various activities such as fixing cars and making pizza. He has a playful rivalry with James's younger brother, Anthony. Bryce is supportive of James's passion for music and attends his concerts regularly. With a similar sense of humor and outlook on life, Bryce provides comic relief and support in James's life.
My name is James.
I am 16years old, and I live in New York City with my family.
I am a high school student, but I am not your typical high school student.
When I am not in school, I enjoy fixing cars with my father in his repair business, making pizza with my friends, and making music.
When I say that I enjoy fixing cars, I don’t just mean working on them – I enjoy everything about it.
From driving the finished product out of the garage for the first time to hearing the sweet sound of the engine for the first time in weeks.
Fixing cars isn’t just a job; it is an art form.
It takes patience and skill that not everyone has.
Not only do I get to spend quality time with my father at work, but I learn something new every time that we take on a new project.
My father owns his own small business called "Daddy’s Dolls” and he doesn’t know this, but when I graduate from high school, I plan on running the business with him – maybe one day taking over.
I always loved helping my father in the shop and he saw how interested that I was in it, so he began to teach me how to fix the problems.
It was a win-win for both of us – he had someone to run the errands for him around the shop and he got to spend quality time with his son.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead as I finish tightening the last bolt on Mrs. Chen’s Camry.
My dad has been letting me take the lead on this repair, a transmission issue that took us three days to fix, and I am excited for him to see how it runs.
The afternoon sun streams through the dusty windows of the garage, illuminating the tiny particles in the air.
I slam the hood shut with a loud thunk, causing a few of those particles to dance in the light.
My hands are black with grease, but I can’t help but grin – this is the moment of truth.
I slide into the driver’s seat and feel the cool leather against my back.
The key feels heavy in my hand as I insert it into the ignition and grip the steering wheel firmly.
The worn seat smells of motor oil and new transmission fluid, a smell that I have grown to love over the years.
I adjust the mirrors and check all of the gauges before I look up to see my dad standing by the hood, arms crossed, watching me intently.
My hands, still bearing the faint scent of grease despite my thorough washing, grip the steering wheel tightly.
I take a deep breath and remember every step of the repair process – disassembling the engine, replacing the faulty parts, reassembling it with precision.
This is it – three days of work all coming down to this moment.
"James, are you ready for this?" my dad asks, his voice steady but filled with anticipation.
"Yeah, Dad," I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "But there's something I need to tell you first."
He raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What is it, son?"
I turn the key in the ignition, and the Camry’s engine purrs to life smoothly.
The sound is like music to my ears, a symphony of precision and power.
My dad nods in approval as I shift through the gears, testing the transmission’s response.
The car moves forward, gliding effortlessly across the garage floor.
I can feel the tension in my body begin to dissipate – it’s working.
But before I can say anything about my future plans, his phone rings, shrill in the silence of the garage.
He pulls it out of his pocket and answers it, his expression unreadable.
I watch as he listens intently to whoever is on the other end of the line, his face breaking into a wide smile.
After a few minutes, he hangs up and turns back to me, still grinning from ear to ear.
"That was Mrs. Chen," he says, his voice filled with pride.
"She just wanted to let us know that her car is running better than ever before. She said that she can’t believe how smooth the transmission is now."
I nod, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over me.
It’s moments like these that make all of the hard work worth it – knowing that I have made a difference in someone’s life. But I am not here to talk about Mrs. Chen’s car – I have something much more important on my mind.
I step out of the car and wipe my hands on my work pants, clearing my throat nervously.
"Dad, I want to run the shop with you after I graduate."
I watch as the expression on his face changes, processing my words.
He sets his phone back down on the workbench, where tools are scattered from the Camry’s repair.
The fluorescent lights above us flicker, casting shadows across the concrete floor.
He takes a slow step toward me, his work boots scuffing against the ground.
His hands, weathered and stained with grease, reach out – I hold my breath, unsure what to expect.
The smell of motor oil fills my nostrils as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug.
His worn work shirt is rough against my cheek, and I can feel the callouses on his hands as he pats my back.
The tools on the workbench rattle as he bumps against it, but he doesn’t let go.
Through my own shirt, I can feel his heart beating rapidly – it matches the pounding in my chest.
"I’m proud of you, son," he whispers into my ear, his voice cracking slightly.
I squeeze him back, my own hands leaving fresh grease stains on his already-stained uniform.
"Dad, I’ve been thinking about this for a while," I say, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes.
He nods, his gaze steady and full of understanding. "I always hoped you’d want to join me, but I didn’t want to push you."
"Well, it’s what I want," I reply, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.