Okay, so I decided to slow the plot down a bit xD Hope you guys don't mind. If you don't like it, let me know D: Instead of starting in high school, it now starts with Jenna as a child. Don't worry, there's probably going to be a bit of a time-skip later. She still meets Allen in high-school. Sorry for the derpiness! Hope you guys will give me a few chapters' leeway to get this ball rolling, haha.

Jenna had always been plagued by the disfavor of others. She often ran off to hide in a secluded place to cry the tears her pride wouldn't allow her to shed in the face of her peers, which happened more often than not. Today was no different.

She was hiding in a playground, tears flowing quickly down her cheeks in a futile attempt to wash away her classmates' stinging words, when her father found her. She knew it was him because of his brown leather shoes and his suit pants, which wafted his familiar cologne scent to her when he walked. His feet stopped next to the yellow slide she was hiding under, stirring up a tiny cloud of dust.

She shifted away and faced her back to him, sniffling. "Go away," she commanded, voice thick with misery. He squatted so he could see her, one hand on the slide for balance.

"Why?" he asked. His voice was not accusing or judgmental.

Jenna's lower lip protruded and she didn't answer for a while. More tears raced down her face, hot and sticky and humiliating. At length, she told him resentfully, voice uneven, "Because I hate you."

He didn't seem upset by this declaration. Instead, he answered patiently, "Why do you hate me?" It was what he always asked when she had a tantrum, but he didn't seem bored or impatient. Just concerned.

She replied with a very descriptive, "Because."

In truth, she didn't hate him at all. She loved him so much, it hurt. She just wished he didn't look the way he did. His dark skin and unusual forehead markings made him the target of many of her classmate's jokes, as well as their neighbors'. As a young child, she didn't nearly have the right mind-set for this kind of mental abuse, and her natural instinct was to lash out to relieve her own pain.

In a way, she was very glad to have taken after her mother in appearance, what with black eyes and hair and pale, porcelain skin, because, although she thought her father was very good looking, what with his dark skin and contrasting golden eyes, she wasn't teased for looking like a foreigner. Dark skin wasn't what you would call common here.

It started drizzling, but neither of them moved. After a lengthy pause, he held out his hand and said, "Come on, let's go home."

When she made no sign she'd heard, he picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulders, where she sat sniffling into his hair.

They began their walk home, not speeding up or slowing down even when it started to rain harder. By the time they'd got home to their little apartment, both were soaked through.

"Go warm yourself up in the shower. I'll make some dinner," he told his daughter, who presently sneezed. He smiled at her, and she managed a scowl back.

The shower was warm and soothing, and she stayed a little longer than she might normally have, allowing the rhythmic jets of water wipe away her tear stains.

By the time she emerged, a fluffy towel around her neck, the kitchen was warm and toast with the smell of spaghetti on the stove.

"Right on time," her father said cheerfully, pouring the boiling water out of the pot and allowing the noodles to cool. His wavy black hair, slightly longer than the average male's, was pinned back, sticking up oddly in places. He'd replaced his bulky sweater with a sky-blue apron and had rolled up his sleeves (unevenly, she noticed) so that they didn't get caught in anything while he cooked.

She sat at the counter and rested her head on her hands, still sulky, but that didn't last as long as she'd have wanted as her father slid a steaming bowl of spaghetti under her nose. She breathed in the fresh, mouth-watering aroma that was rising off the bowl and wasn't surprised when her stomach gave an answering rumble.

Before she could muster up a proper 'thanks', he'd dashed off to the shower, sneezing, with a "Eat up!" thrown over his shoulder. She heard rather than saw him throw the apron onto the sofa.

Alone, Jenna found it easier to admit that her anger had drained and left her very, very hungry. She scarfed down her first bowl, barely stopping to blow on the hot food and getting burned in her eagerness. Halfway through her third helping, her father reappeared looking refreshed.

"How's the food?" he asked as he pulled out his own plate. "It's my specialty, you know!"

Jenna rolled her eyes. He said everything was his specialty. Then again, it was good. She bobbed her head in reply, mouth full of the Italian cuisine. He chuckled and ruffled her hair as he walked around her to sit next to her, his plate piled high with food. Feeling stuffed after three bowls, she just sat back to watch him inhale the noodles.

"Not gonna ea'?" he asked, mouth full, watching her out of the corner of his eyes.

"Already ate," Jenna said nonchalantly, not adding that she'd finished three bowls.

"There's a bit left," he informed her, looking guiltily at his own enormous helping.

Impressive, Jenna thought. How much did he make? That pot doesn't even look that big! She shrugged. "You can have it."

"You're really going to make me fat," he accused, eyes laughing. She hid a smile by turning to look at the clock hanging on the wall.

"It's this late already?" she gasped. "I'm going to bed!" She jumped off the stool, and, after a small pause, hugged her dad around the middle, making him start with surprise. Before he could swallow his mouthful and say something, she muttered, "night," and hurried off to bed, face red.

"Good night!" he called, somewhat belatedly as Jenna slammed the door. He sighed. "Kids."

Okay, there's the short chapter one! Hope you didn't hate it too much. And young Jenna seems to be quite a daddy's girl, huh? xD Let me know what you think? If you want me to go back to the old one, that's fine too.