Good idea - not sure how to relate that to children - will have to think about that!
Children are people and move more than adults. They are even more on the go which makes it easier. Yours are 12 and 13 so starting to gain more grown up actions and movement.
My current MC is 14. Kit found his mother dead only a year before the story - his father is now in prison for her murder. He's now living with his gran who has given up on life since her daughter died. He's also mixed race and gay (it's 1989). So he's quite reticent with people, except his mate Gary and someone called The Hurdy-Gurdy Man, and he has a lot of actions that tend to make him smaller than he really is. He flinches a lot and is worried about people gossiping about him. He buys an old man's coat so he can pretend that's why they're looking at him and staring at him. Also he's big on keeping his anger under control because everyone seems to expect him to turn into his dad and he's not. He's wary and observant because he avoids school so during the day it's all about not getting caught whilst he makes money playing his fiddle.
It's at just past NaNo draft (got a long way to go):
“I would like the coat in the window, please.” He stood, uneasy, and looked round. A pretty vase caught his eye but he knew his gran would hate any tat brought into the house.
She sniffed and turned a page. A manicured, bright-pink polished finger, picked out a chocolate from the box on the counter. The chocolate disappeared with a satisfied grunt.
“Coat. Window.” This time he let a note of irritation enter his voice. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. Losing his temper in public was what everyone was waiting to see, and she probably got the pink rinse at his gran’s salon.
They won’t have the satisfaction. They won’t have the satisfaction. They won’t have the satisfaction. He breathed through his mantra.
The woman sniffed again. Folded the corner of her page down and closed the book. “Which one?”
There was only one coat in the window.
“The man's overcoat, please.” He pointed to it.
“Bit old for you ain’t it?” She eased herself out of her chair and pottered, in her carpet slippers, over to the window.
He looked out the window and checked the time on the town clock. School would be over shortly. He needed to be out of the town centre.
When eventually she returned, she threw the coat on the counter. “Have you got the five pounds?”
He handed her the ten pound note the man had given him, took the coat and put it on. It made him feel like the doctor – he’d need a scarf to go with it. It took all his effort not to girlishly twirl in front of the streaked mirror.
Once more she sniffed, and held the note up to the light. “Looks genuine.” She put it in the cash register and gave him his change. “My dad used to wear something like that. It’s too long on you.” She sat back down, helped herself to a chocolate and picked up her book.
“Thanks.”
The woman turned the page.
