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MidReal Story
My Bestie's Son
Scenario:At the start of the story, a 13 year old black boy named Adrian gets a call that his 13 year old black female best friend Carla's mother passed away in a car accident. He tries to reach out to his friend, but she wants to be alone, so he respects her wish. A few days later, he visits her at her home to comfort her and cheer her up. Throughout the story, their love continues to blossom where they never realised it could.
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Adrian
He is a 13yearold black boy. He is caring,loyal,and sensitive. Adrian learns of his best friend Carla's mother's tragic death and tries to support her during her grief. Despite their age,he and Carla share a deep bond. Adrian struggles to express his feelings for Carla,who is beautiful and kind. He finds solace in his grandmother's wisdom and tries to be strong for Carla,visiting her frequently to comfort her.
Carla
She is a 13yearold black girl and Adrian's best friend since childhood. She is intelligent,sensitive,and beautiful. Following her mother's tragic car accident,Carla withdraws into herself,struggling to cope with her emotions. Adrian tries to reach out and comfort her,realizing the depth of their friendship. She is touched by Adrian's kindness and generosity,unaware yet of his crush on her. Despite her internal turmoil,she values their friendship above all.
Grandma
She is Adrian's grandmother who lives nearby. She is wise,caring,and nurturing. Grandma provides Adrian with guidance and comfort after his friend's mother died. She encourages Adrian to be strong for Carla and offers him advice on dealing with loss. Her gentle demeanor helps Adrian feel less alone in his sorrow. Grandma plays a stabilizing role in Adrian's life,providing him with a sense of family and stability amidst chaos.
I was playing video games when my grandma called me.
"Adrian, I just got a call from Mrs. Jenkins. Carla's mother got into a terrible car accident, and she didn't make it."
My heart sank immediately.
I've known Carla since we were little, and she's my best friend.
I couldn't imagine her going through this.
I quickly reached for my phone and called her.
It rang a few times before it went to voicemail.
I tried again and again, but it kept going to voicemail.
I knew she had a lot going on, so I decided not to call her again and instead sent her a text message.
"Hey, I just heard about your mom. I'm so sorry. If you need me, I'm here for you. Call me or text me whenever you can."
I put my phone down and continued playing video games, but I couldn't focus.
I kept thinking about Carla and how terrible it must be for her to lose her mother like that.
The next day, I tried calling her again, but it still went to voicemail.
After trying a few times, I decided not to bother her and gave up.
I knew she needed time and space, so I respected that.
A few days later, I went to her house with my grandma.
When we got there, I saw Carla sitting on the porch with her father.
I walked up to the porch, my steps slow and uncertain on the creaking wooden boards.
Her father looked up and nodded at me, then stood up and patted Carla's shoulder before walking inside.
Carla didn't look up, just kept staring at her hands folded in her lap.
I sat down beside her, leaving a careful space between us.
The afternoon sun beat down on the porch, making the peeling white paint glow.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
I could see her shoulders trembling slightly.
Without thinking, I reached into my backpack and pulled out her favorite candy bar - the one she always gets at lunch.
When I held it out to her, she finally looked up at me, her eyes red and puffy.
"Adrian, I don't know how to do this without her," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"You don't have to do it alone, Carla," I replied softly, trying to meet her gaze.
"But what if I'm not strong enough?" she asked, a tear slipping down her cheek.
The evening sun cast long shadows across the porch, the sound of crickets providing a melancholic background.
I stared at the candy bar in my trembling hands, my shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
The creaking of the porch swing filled the silence between us.
I wanted to say something profound, something that would ease Carla's pain, but words seemed inadequate.
Instead, I shifted closer, our shoulders barely touching.
When another sob escaped her, I slowly reached for her hand resting on her lap.
She squeezed my hand tightly, and in that moment, I knew we would face this together.
The porch light flickers on automatically as darkness settles, casting long shadows across our faces.
My thumb traces small circles on the back of Carla's hand while she leans her head against my shoulder.
Her breathing steadies, though occasional tremors still run through her body.
The wrapper of the untouched candy bar crinkles between us.
Through the window, I glimpse her father watching us, his own eyes glistening.
When another sob escapes Carla's throat, I shift closer, pulling our joined hands into my lap.
The porch light casts shadows across her tear-stained face as she continues crying softly against my shoulder.
Her breathing gradually steadies, though her grip on my hand remains tight.
The evening air cools, carrying the scent of blooming flowers, and she shivers slightly.
I release her hand to wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.
She shifts, lifting her head to look at me with red-rimmed eyes.
Something in her vulnerable gaze tugs at my heart.
Without thinking, I reach up with my free hand, gently wiping a tear from her cheek.
We sat there in silence, knowing that sometimes presence speaks louder than words.
I glance at Carla's father through the window and give him a small nod, silently asking for permission.
He returns the nod, understanding.
The porch light casts long shadows as I stand up slowly, still holding Carla's hand.
She looks uncertain, her legs shaky from sitting so long.
I keep my grip firm but gentle, offering stability as she finds her footing.
The candy bar slides off her lap onto the swing.
Neither of us moves to pick it up.
Together, we step off the porch into the night, leaving the past behind.
I guide Carla down the porch steps, keeping my grip firm as she stumbles slightly on the last one.
The streetlight at the end of her driveway casts a pool of yellow light onto the grass.
We walk slowly toward it, our footsteps crunching on scattered gravel.
The night air feels warmer now than it did on the porch.
When we reach the pool of light, I turn to face her.
Her cheeks are still wet, but as she looks up at the light, I notice her shoulders relax for the first time tonight.
"Do you think he'll ever forgive me?" Carla's voice is barely above a whisper, but the weight of her words hangs heavy between us.
"I think he already has," I reply gently, glancing back toward the house where her father watches from the window.
She nods slowly, a small flicker of hope lighting up her eyes as she squeezes my hand tighter.
I lead her past her driveway, onto the sidewalk.
Our hands are still linked as we walk slowly, our footsteps matching.
The streetlights cast long shadows that stretch out before us, and the night air feels cool against my damp cheeks.
I hear Carla's breathing become steadier with each step beside me.
A car passes by, its headlights briefly illuminating our path.
Carla flinches at the sound, but she doesn't stop walking.
She tightens her grip on my hand instead.
We don't speak - we just keep moving forward, our shoulders occasionally brushing together.
"Do you think he'll ever forgive me?" Carla's voice is barely above a whisper, but the weight of her words hangs heavy between us.
"I think he already has," I reply gently, glancing back toward the house where her father watches from the window.
She nods slowly, a small flicker of hope lighting up her eyes as she squeezes my hand tighter.