This little scene here, or at least the end. And Glora is eleven, Wesley is either ten or just turned eleven, so their just best friends, nothing else. Thanks for any feedback 
Creeping around the corner, she stood on tiptoe and silently pulled a tattered curtain to the side, peering through the glassless window. On the floor lay a boy, who appeared older than he was due to the dust ingrained under his eyes and across his cheek. A thick blanket covered his body, black velvet acquired through a midnight journey to and from Glora's manor. Glora smiled to remember the adventure, then bit her lip guiltily as she contemplated waking the boy. He appeared so peaceful in sleep, his hands black and red from working in the mines, his lids heavy in their sockets.
"Wesley." Glora whispered. She paused. He hadn't stirred. "Wesley! Wakeup!" she said aloud.
The boy took an irregular breath, and turned on his side. His eyes fluttered, opened slowly, and then fell shut.
"Wesley..."
He sat up, blanket sliding down, eyes blinking. "Glora?" he muttered sleepily. "S'that you?"
"Yeah, wake up!"
Wesley slumped back down. "What're you doin' here?" he groaned. "Go away, it's 'middle of the night."
"Ah, get up, you lump. I've got something to tell you."
"No."
"Come on, it has to do with the Sneak!"
"Go away."
Glora grinned, sitting down underneath the window. She waited a few minutes, counting her breaths. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
"Glora?"
"Haha!" she stood up, laughing. Wesley started and jumped back. "Keep it down, alright? Mother's sleeping."
"Sorry. Come on, let's go."
"I ain't leavin', Glora. You're constantly pullin' me along these adventures of yours, at who knows what time at night, for some crazy reason or another, and --"
Glora scowled. "You have fun, don't you?"
But Wesley was silent, staring into the darkness with a hushed expression.
"Wesley?" she whispered, suddenly wishing she was on the other side of the window.
"Climb in, Glora. Hurry." her friend breathed.
Creeping around the corner, she stood on tiptoe and silently pulled a tattered curtain to the side, peering through the glassless window. On the floor lay a boy, who appeared older than he was due to the dust ingrained under his eyes and across his cheek. A thick blanket covered his body, black velvet acquired through a midnight journey to and from Glora's manor. Glora smiled to remember the adventure, then bit her lip guiltily as she contemplated waking the boy. He appeared so peaceful in sleep, his hands black and red from working in the mines, his lids heavy in their sockets.
"Wesley." Glora whispered. She paused. He hadn't stirred. "Wesley! Wakeup!" she said aloud.
The boy took an irregular breath, and turned on his side. His eyes fluttered, opened slowly, and then fell shut.
"Wesley..."
He sat up, blanket sliding down, eyes blinking. "Glora?" he muttered sleepily. "S'that you?"
"Yeah, wake up!"
Wesley slumped back down. "What're you doin' here?" he groaned. "Go away, it's 'middle of the night."
"Ah, get up, you lump. I've got something to tell you."
"No."
"Come on, it has to do with the Sneak!"
"Go away."
Glora grinned, sitting down underneath the window. She waited a few minutes, counting her breaths. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
"Glora?"
"Haha!" she stood up, laughing. Wesley started and jumped back. "Keep it down, alright? Mother's sleeping."
"Sorry. Come on, let's go."
"I ain't leavin', Glora. You're constantly pullin' me along these adventures of yours, at who knows what time at night, for some crazy reason or another, and --"
Glora scowled. "You have fun, don't you?"
But Wesley was silent, staring into the darkness with a hushed expression.
"Wesley?" she whispered, suddenly wishing she was on the other side of the window.
"Climb in, Glora. Hurry." her friend breathed.