General Jacob Gallbladder and the Art of War Part V

“Okay. So what does that mean?” I asked him.

“It means I’m sick of eating gallbladder.” He frowns at his now flat second pouch of juice. “Even if it is delicious.”

I search his face for any hint that he’s trying to be funny. All I see is his mournful stare at the empty pouch, as if willpower could refill it. Or perhaps he’s afraid that it will.

“So what does that mean?” I ask him. His brow furls.

“I dunno. Not yet. But we’ll be sick tomorrow. We’ll come up with something.“

Reflexively, I rub the palm of my left hand with my right thumb. The spot where Kenny’s boot had pinched me during our escape was sore, but tough.

Hard work builds calluses.
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So that's the end of the first chapter of General Jacob Gallbladder and the Art of War. Thoughts? Was the vocabulary and tone appropriate for a ten year old audience? Do my characters sound too old? Was the pacing appropriate for target audience? Would the humor amuse them? I plan to have every chapter open and close with related observations; did it work for you? Tell meeeeeeeeeee.