'So let me get this straight

Okay, so I had this idea for a story while I was at my cottage. Here's the first chapter; tell me what you think!

I don't own anything!

'So let me get this straight.' Joe Jonas croaked into the phone, 'Since I have something wrong with my throat, I might never be able to sing again?'

'I'm sorry, Joseph. But if you continue to sing, your throat will just get worse. You might not even be able to speak again.' The doctor said, feeling bad for the young teenager, whose dreams were in the midst of being shattered.

'Perfect.' He said, sarcastically, 'But why couldn't any of the other doctors figure out what I had?'

'Joseph, I'm not entirely sure. But they all thought you had Strep throat. But unfortunately, we didn't catch it early enough, so it will take a lot longer for you to heal than it would have.'

Joe had a realization, his heart sinking. 'So I can't go on tour?'

'To get completely better, you should stay at home. Do you have any relatives that you can stay with?'

'I-I don't know. You can talk to my parents, I guess. They'd probably know.'

'Thanks, Joe. You take care, now.' The doctor said.

'See ya, Doc.' Joe said, handing the phone to his mother, who would hopefully convince the doctor that he should be able to go on tour.

A few weeks ago, while they were on their last tour, Joe had been singing, when his voice gave out. His throat had been tingling painfully for a few days before that, but he had thought that it was just from stress. They had gone to many doctors, in different cities on the tour, but none of them had been able to diagnose him with anything. And while he continued singing, it just got worse. He couldn't speak without his voice being raspy, and singing was out of the question. Finally, they had gone to the family doctor, who had known right away that it was laryngitis.

Once he was off the phone, he walked over to Nick's room, where both Nick and Kevin were in, packing clothes for the upcoming weeks on the road, traveling from city to city. 'You heard the news?' He asked hopefully, for sympathy from his brothers.

'Yeah, man,' Nick said, barely looking at his older brother, 'that's too bad. But maybe you can still come with us.'

'Maybe.' Joe sighed, walking over to the middle of the messy room, 'But I think Mom is trying to find someone I can stay with, while you guys are gone.'

Nick and Kevin continued folding clothes, and putting them into their suitcases. There was the impression that a tornado had hit, in the form of shirts, jeans and shoes.

'We can convince them to let you come for the shows around here.' Kevin suggested, looking up from his blue-and-black plaid traveling bag.

'Maybe. But I can't sing; I can barely talk as it is.' Joe wheezed sadly. 'The doctor said that I might not be able to sing for ever.'

Right then, their youngest brother, Frankie walked into the room, and gave his brother a big hug, saying, 'I'm going to miss you.'

'Me too, Buddy. But we'll talk, right?' Joe said, returning the embrace. He'd really miss his youngest brother, who enjoyed accompanying the brothers while they were on tour.

Frankie looked up into his brother's eyes, 'Yup. Everyday. But Mom wants to talk to you, that's why she sent me up here.'

Joe let go of his brother and started to walk towards the door, giving him a look. He walked down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where both his parents had been before.

'Joseph, I just got off the phone with your Aunt Linda in Seattle, and you're going to stay with her for the tour.' His mother said, setting down the phone onto the cradle and looking at her sick son.

He coughed, wincing at the pain, 'But I don't want to go Seattle. Aunt Linda hates me.'

'She doesn't hate you.' His mother tried to convince him; 'she just doesn't trust you, after what you and Kevin did to her pool.'

Joe smirked at the memory. Him and his older brother had wanted to dye their aunt's dog blue, and they had thought that the best way to do so was to put a whole bottle of blue food colouring in the swimming pool, and throwing the dog in to swim. When their aunt had found out, they had been in deep trouble, and had been grounded for weeks. Their parents had found the whole situation humorous, but Aunt Linda still gave the brothers dirty looks every time they got together for Christmas dinner, although she had no problem with giving Nick or Frankie a pat on the back, or ruffling their hair.

'And you'll go there on Wednesday, by bus, and she'll pick you up when you get there.' She said, breaking his train of thought.

'But you guys leave tomorrow. What will I do until Wednesday?' Joe asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Him and his brothers were still used to being busy for days, with concerts and appearances, so the concept of him having some free time made him wonder up the possibilities.

'We'll have someone pick you up on Wednesday to go to the station, alright?' his mom answered, picking up the phone book and leafing through it.

'Don't bother. I can get to the bus station on my own.' He said, almost bitterly. If he was going to be left alone, he might as well try to prove that he could do it right.

'If you want. But I'll leave some numbers for you, okay?' she said, getting out a sheet of paper from a notebook that was lying on the counter, and started copying down numbers for Joe to call, if he decided he needed a ride to the bus station.

Joe walked back to his room, and looked around. Like his brother's rooms, there were clothes everywhere, but for different reasons. Kevin and Nick were normally relatively neat, whereas Joe was just naturally messy. There was a laundry hamper in the nearby corner of the room, so Joe started stuffing random articles of clothing in, so that he could determine what needed washing for his trip. He didn't really want to go to Seattle, but he didn't have much of a choice. Unless his throat magically healed, there was no way that he could ever sing for anyone, since the laryngitis was at such an advanced stage. If any of the other doctors had given him the right diagnosis, maybe he would be able to sing eventually, even if it was as backup for his brothers. But none of the doctors did. They all had to think it was Strep throat.

He had two days to pack. Two days to miraculously heal. Two days to think of an escape route from his aunt's house. His head ached, and his throat throbbed from all of his recent problems, so he lied down on his still-messy bed, closed his eyes, and quickly fell asleep.