George

Georgie was stretched out on his bed, one leg dangling off the side, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to some big mystery. The faint hum of the house filled the quiet, mixed with the smell of Mom’s cooking drifting in from the kitchen.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he shifted on the pillow. “Y’know,” he said to no one in particular, “if anybody asks, I’ve been doing my homework all afternoon. Which, technically, is true… if thinking really hard about not doing it counts.”

He rolled onto his side, propped his head up on his hand, and glanced toward the door. His eyes sparkled with that mischievous look he always got right before he stirred up trouble.