He liked to chew on it when he was thinking. His notebook was on his chest and his pencil was clamped between his teeth. Sammy was tuning his banjo, which he wasn’t supposed to have in the treehouse, while Jack laid on the floor. He and Sammy were in Sammy’s treehouse, avoiding Sammy’s little sister. “I just don’t know what I’m gonna do with my life.” He groaned. He wasn’t entirely sure how he could transfer his scribblings into a career, though. He was always scribbling something in his notebook. He didn’t start fights unless someone was threatening Sammy. He was quiet, keeping to himself most of the time. It was easy to forget Jack, even when he was right in front of you. Then again, though, Sammy had always been considered peculiar by many others. Sammy had a forceful personality, big dreams, and a drive that was second to none. But he couldn’t help but be jealous of him sometimes. The other boy was his best friend, practically his brother. He liked writing, poetry especially, but he didn’t exactly have the same passion for it that Sammy did for music. They’d always known he was going to go into some career involving music.
Sammy’s mother loved to tell stories about how Sammy as a toddler had stumbled up to the piano and started banging away at the keys. He’d been that way ever since he and Jack had been kids. He felt pretty bad about that, especially since Sammy lived and breathed music. And since it reminded me of BATIM Inktober, which I really enjoyed, I thought I’d do it.
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