I wrote this story after using the exercises in this class to form the basis of George's character. Hope you enjoy.

 

George jumped out of bed, excitement shining in his eyes. Today was special—his twelfth birthday. He dashed down the hall, his small feet thumping on the floor. In a flash, he leaped onto his parents' bed, bouncing like a rubber ball. "It's my birthday! It's my birthday!" he shrieked, his voice ringing through the morning air.

"Happy birthday, son," his mother exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him. Her voice was warm with excitement.

"Happy birthday, George," his father added, his tone more reserved. He fixed his gaze on the boy's deformed hands.

"So, what's your big secret?" his mother asked, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. "You've been quiet about your birthday wish. Come on, spill it."

George's face lit up. "A dog. I want a dog. Please, can I have a dog?" His voice trembled with hope.

His father's scowl deepened as he stared at George's hands. "A dog?" he repeated, skepticism lacing his tone. "Really, George? Can’t you wish for something... safer?" A terrible thought occurred to George's father. What would he do if his son were further deformed by the dog?

George's face fell. He remembered when a girl in his class brought her husky to school. The other children gathered around her, treating her like the queen of the playground. He wondered what that would be like. Surrounded by classmates, he imagined their awe instead of the fear and disgust they had for him now.

George wouldn't give up. "I want a dog," he said with determination.

His mother stepped in, her voice soothing. "Honey, he wants a dog. Don't you think our son deserves something special for his birthday?" She placed a hand on her husband's fingers, her eyes urging him to consider their son's plea.

George's father took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing in thought. For a long, uncomfortable minute, silence hung in the air. Then he spoke, caution mixing with negotiation. "Fine, you can have a dog, but only if you prove you can handle it. Pass your maths exam. No exceptions."

A wave of despair washed over him. It mixed with frustration at his father's strictness and pain in his mangled fingers. His father knew maths was tough for him. School had never been easy for George. A dog seemed impossible now. His father had always valued practicality over dreams, shaped by his tough childhood.

On his birthday, George trudged to school, a scowl on his face. He should have felt excited, but reality hit hard. No dog for him, and the only way to change that was to work a miracle. To get a miracle, he had to pass his Year Seven maths exam.

As he walked through the school, George glanced into the library, making a silent vow. He would try, no matter what. When the final bell rang, George's maths teacher, Mrs Grant, found him in the library. This sight surprised her.

Mrs Grant sat down beside him, listening as George shared his motivation. "If I pass, I get a dog," he said, determination in his voice. A warm smile spread across her face. She spent the next half hour helping him, explaining concepts and encouraging him. As she left, she whispered a prayer, hoping his hard work would pay off.

Later that afternoon, a sticky glob of glue hit George on the back of the head. His struggle to pull the glue from his hair left his fingers aching in pain. A cold shiver slithered down his spine, as if someone had poured ice water over him. He turned to see Ralph's wicked grin cutting through the laughter of his mocking friends. They twisted their hands in grotesque mockery. Their laughter sliced through the air like a knife and echoed in the hallway. He felt not the sting of their words, but the weight of every expectation resting on his shoulders.

The taunts cut deep, making George's face burn with embarrassment. He tried to ignore them, but their cruel words lingered long after he went home. That night, George shut himself in his room. Anger and frustration fuelled his determination. He pored over his maths textbook, determined to prove them wrong. The clock ticked away, but he didn't stop until he felt ready. The next day, he stumbled through his classes, exhaustion weighing him down. But when the maths exam finally arrived, George was ready.

He answered the exam with all his knowledge and effort. That night, he slept like a bear in hibernation, exhausted but content.

A week later, he got his results. His eyes widened in surprise at the passing grade. He had done it! Excitement overwhelmed him. Now, he knew he would get a dog, as he had promised. He beamed with joy, feeling like he was walking on air.

But Ralph noticed his happiness. Ralph, who had failed his own exam, seethed with anger. Jealousy and inadequacy fuelled his burning hatred for George. As George lined up for the bus home with a sense of pride, Ralph spotted him.

In a sudden move, Ralph grabbed George, pulling him away from the bus stop and around the corner to an empty street. The atmosphere turned dark. Ralph's eyes blazed with fury. He struck George first in the nose, bloodying his face. Then, with a ruthless fist, he punched George in the chest. George crumpled to the ground, weakened by the blows. In that moment, all he could think of was the dog he longed for, the dream slipping further away.

As George lay there, crying and helpless, Ralph forced open his fingers to get to the exam paper. George howled in pain, his bones bending in ways they weren't supposed to. Blood from George's nose smeared across the page, but Ralph didn't care. Anger and envy consumed him. George's cries echoed through the empty streets, but they fell on deaf ears.

As Ralph seemed unstoppable, the sound of an approaching bus broke the spell. Panicked, Ralph abandoned George, racing off as the bus pulled up to the stop. George lay there, alone and injured, his happiness replaced by pain and despair. Moments ago, he had been daydreaming about a dog he hoped to own. Now, reality crashed down like a heavy weight.

By the time he struggled to his feet, the bus had vanished into the distance. He checked his watch. The hands were ticking with a relaxed rhythm. He sighed—another bus wouldn't arrive for at least thirty minutes. With a heavy heart, he decided to walk home through the park, a route he usually enjoyed, but today it felt like a chore.

As he trudged along, he encountered a tall fence that wasn't there last time he had walked through the park. Its wooden slats were daunting. He knew he had to get over it to reach home. The problem was his hands were too crippled to grip the wood, let alone pull himself up. He hesitated before making his way to the creek, the only gap in the fence. The water sparkled in the sunlight, and he held his exam result with a strong grip, feeling pride in his hard work.

When he emerged on the other side of the fence, he came face to face with a snarling wild dog. At first, he thought it would attack, and he took off in a panic. But when he fell, a dog's sloppy lick hit his face. The dog's three legs quivered as it approached. Its soulful eyes mirrored the pain and perseverance in George's heart. George's fingers ached; he struggled to push himself off the ground. The dog came to lick them, like a mother kissing her child's injuries.

The three-legged dog stumbled alongside him as he walked the rest of the way home. When he arrived, he paused outside the door, worried about what his father might say. What if his father went against his promise? George didn't know if he could forgive his father for that, not after the day he had. 

With fear burning in his heart, he rang the bell and waited, his heart thumping. His father answered the door. He was bleeding and tired. But George couldn't wait to show his exam result to his father with pride. His heart raced as he handed over the crumpled paper. He feared what his father might say.

George's father didn't look pleased. He was at first more concerned for his son's wellbeing, wondering what had happened to the boy. George persisted, begging his father for a dog. He ignored the pain in his aching fingers and the blood dripping from his nose. And despite his gruff exterior, his father asked what kind of dog he wanted. George's eyes lit up as he pointed to a dachshund on three legs, a beaming smile spreading across his face.

He thought about how the kids would look at him at school tomorrow when he brings his very own animal to greet them.