Our story begins early in the morning on the first of September, the first day of school for our children and teens. We've come to Belladonna Cove to follow six families and their relationships and their evolution. The Seguras, the Lancasters, the DeBateaus, The Dempseys, the Christakis family and a single woman who you can't call a family, Andrea Masen, but her brother, Rodger, lives with his wife and daughter in Docksville. We will now go to the Tech Center Flats apartments, Unit C (third floor), where we find the Dempseys.

The Dempseys: (Tech Center Flats)

Nolan Dempsey threw his backback over his shoulder, heading towards the front door. He finished off his glass of orange juice, dropping the plastic cup in the sink on his way out.
"Bye, Dad!" he called over his shoulder, with no reply. Typical. His dad didn't have to get up for another half hour and he needed all the sleep he could get, what with how late he would be up, tossing and turning every night. Maxwell Dempsey had yet to get over his wife, Theresa, leaving him about a year ago. Moving to Belladonna Cove had mostly been Nolan's idea, but it seemed to help a little.
He walked down the stairs toward the ground floor, waving at their downstairs neighbor, Dr. Masen, on his way down. Andrea Masen had moved in shortly after they did in July and she worked as a surgeon at Belladonna General Hospital. He waited down on the corner for the bus, which came a few minutes later. He sat in an empty seat and hoped that this day would bring neither humiliation nor unwanted reminders of what he'd lost.
They made it to Starweather Bay High School about fifteen minutes before the first bell and Nolan held tightly to the information that had been mailed to him. He stuffed the things he didn't need into his locker and headed toward first period.
He moved through the day like he was going through maple syrup and all but collapsed into a seat in his sixth period class, sighing in relief. He wasn't late and the day was coming to its close, he would ride the bus home, do his homework, eat something and paint until he fell asleep. the drama class was not his first choice, but he would rather be learning something he didn't know than listening to an art teacher tell him to go back to basics with the rest of the class. The other seats began to fill and the ratio of girls to boys was apparently 2 to 1. That wasn't the worse thing that could happen, he just hoped none of the girls reminded him of his mother. She was the reason his father worked late and on weekends, the reason they lived in a tiny, two bedroom apartment in the industrial sector.
To his left sat a boy he couldn'y remember the name of that was also in his homeroom and a beautiful Hispanic girl sat on his right. The teacher, Adelice Klemz, had each of them say their names aloud and Nolan remembered the boy's name this time around Rolland Lancaster. The girl's name was Yvelle Segura and the award for strangest name went to the girl to the left of Rolland: Electra Christakis. The commendation for the most snobby went to Tara DeBateau, the red head in the front row who's Daddy probably paid the school more in a month than his own father made in a year.

The DeBateaus: (Conerstone Condominiums)

After sixth period Tara grabbed her deerskin bag and walked out to her waiting car and river, Celeste. "Good afternoon, Miss Tara," Celeste said, but Tara gave no reply, as was proper. The drive home was fairly short to the Cornerstone Condominiums. She dropped another suggestion into the landlord's in-box about elevators before she began the ascent up three flights of spiral stairs to Unit D on the top floor. She unlocked the door and walked down the hall to her bedroom, dropping her stuff on top of her desk and changed out of her school uniform. Tara finished off her homework and started painting, hoping she would get her art scholarship before she had to go off to Lancaster University.
Late in the afternoon she heard the door swing shut. "Tara, I'm home!" Armand DeBateau called from the foyer.
"Coming, Daddy!" she said, placing her palette and brush on the table by the easel. She ran out into the hall to meet him, sliding across the marble into his waiting arms.
He chucled and looked down at his red headed daughter. "How was school?"
"It was fine," she sighed, "I met some people who might be worthy of our friendship."
"Oh? Who?" They started to walk towards the kitchen together, his arm around her shoulders.
"Yvelle Segura and Electra Christakis," she replied, neglecting to mention that she found Nolan Dempsey to be the hottest guy in tenth grade. Armand would never have allowed her to go out with a boy from the Industrial Sector.
"Did you meet the Lancaster boy?" her father asked.
Tara vaguely remembered the well mannered brunette boy in a couple of her classes introducing himself as Rolland Lancaster at lunch. Who names their son Rolland? "I did. He seemed nice," she deadpanned, guessing that he was the son of someone important and that her father wanted to make a connection with that person.
"I'm glad, not that I had much doubt about any child of Kalista's," Armand said, "But the point is that I want you to be friendly, his mother works with me and his father is very nearly the mayor's second-in-command and the boy is the great-great-grandson of the founder of Lancaster University. I'm not saying you have to become friends with him, just be the angel you are."
"Okay," she said, opening the refrigerator to pull out the rest of the ingrediants for baked salmon.

The Lancasters: (400 Audrey Avenue)

The Lancaster family was gathered around the dinner table, the yougest, Brienne, recounting her tale of her first day at Lark Point Elementary School. She mentioned a boy, Alexandros Christakis, and Rolland was fairly sure he met his sister, not that he mentioned it. All he wanted was to finish eating and go to the piano in the converted out-building that would have been a groundskeeper's home if they'd had one. Luckily, his father, Marcus, had not asked to have "a talk" in his office after dinner. Those talks always ended with Rolland feeling awful and very stifled and Marcus thinking his son was not good enough.
"So, Rolland, did you meet anyone interesting?" his mother, Kalista, asked.
"Not particularly," he replied, trying to escape the question.
"Now, I can't believe that," Kalista said and she stopped eating entirely. Darn it.
"Well, it's true. They were all painfully dull. Not that we aren't, that is." He scowled a little.
"Rolland," his father warned, looking a slight bit dangerous. Marcus was frightening when he wanted to, sharp features and dark hair in sharp contrast with his pale skin. "We are anything but normal."
"I know, I've heard it before," he said, rolling his eyes, "But not normal doesn't necessarily mean not dull. we have more responsibilities, more pressure and more people who want to be around us that shouldn't be. The whole matter becomes irrevocably tedious." Brienne continued eating, untroubled, while Rolland stared down with his father. Kalista simply looked as though she was going to be sick. But then again, watching her husband and son fight always made her sick.
"Could we please not do this tonight," she pleaded, "All I wanted to find out was if Rolland had met Tara!"
"I did," Rolland said, bored.
"And? What did you think?" Kasmira leaned forward a little, pushing her platinum blonde hair out of her face.
"I thought she was arrogant and above her surroundings, there was nothing to please her," he said.
"Well," Brienne interjected, "she kinda has the right, you know? She's rich and everyone knows her dad."
"Perhaps, but she ought to at least emtry/em to be pleasant!" Rolland stormed.
"Were you?" Marcus asked rather accusingly.
"Actually yes."
"Then you must have fractured perception."