I'm trying out something different this time. Enjoy :))

DISCLAIMER: I do not own MR.

Martin

It all started out when the new kid moved in. It always starts out with the new kid.

In this case, I was the new kid. Not that I was totally new to the area; I had been here once or twice to visit relatives, although they were a block or two down. The neighbors might have looked familiar, but they were still just faces to me in the meantime.

Being the new kid when you're seven is easy enough. You're eager to go out, to get dirty, to interact, and to do whatever because you're seven. So I was eager to go out, to get dirty, and to do whatever I want. Maybe right after I put all the boxes in their respective rooms, but still.

The house we moved in was pretty old on the outside, but you wouldn't have thought of that once you got in. Everything inside was so pristine, exactly how it looked when we first came to have a look around for possible residence. The best part though, and the sole reason that we immediately took the house, was the tree house in the backyard. Sure, it was your average tree house, but it was huge. Huge as in huge. Probably as big as the master's bedroom, though no bigger than that. As my sister would say, it's a friend magnet.

The tree house was also one of the reasons this started. You can't have a tree house that big and not want to share it. Right after we had most of the basics assembled and put away in our house, my mother told me that the two of us should get a good look at it again, for "design inspiration" and stuff.

"All this needs is a huge, low table, a lot of throw pillows, and maybe a cooler, and voila, a perfectly decent clubhouse." My mother said, stepping into the middle and spreading her arms out. "Though I definitely wouldn't stop at that."

"It also needs people." I pointed out.

"It sure does." She nodded in agreement. "Why don't you start a club?"

"A club?" The seven- year- old me brightened up in excitement. I already had a gazillion ideas going through my head, even if I couldn't get hold of even one. I could imagine meetings with a gavel, cool membership cards, maybe a shirt, club- y stuff like that. Anything but the idea of getting members, which could take a long time though I had no clue about that since I was seven.

"With your awesome tree house, you'll have enough friends to start a club." My mother assured me. "Now let's go down, because I think I heard the doorbell."

I was still excited about the idea of starting a club as we got down and went inside the house. The doorbell was actually ringing- my mother guessed it was neighbors coming out to greet us. She was right; a mother and her daughter, both with rich mocha- colored skin, were at the door, holding pie and a plate of cookies respectively. An all- American friendly neighbor greeting.

That girl was the first member of our club.

Monique

My parents pretty much get awards like Most Outgoing, Most Friendly, maybe even Mr. and Mrs. Congeniality. But as social as they were, it was a mystery their only child was a shy and introverted kid. Later on, I found out the answer via Biology: Mendel's postulate of dominance and recessiveness. But enough about that; that's not what I'm supposed to talk about right now.

Since my mom and dad were extremely welcoming, they were the first to know about our new neighbors. My mom baked a pie and my father tried to help her with cookies; in reality though, he ended up having a tickle fight versus me on who got to lick the spoon. After more than an hour's worth of watching dough turn golden brown, my mother straightened her appearance and mine, and we both set out across the street to where our new neighbors lived.

A blonde, curly- haired woman opened the door, accompanied by a boy younger than me. "Good afternoon." She greeted with a warm smile.

My mother smiled back in response, and gently prodded me with her elbow, a sign that I should smile too. "Hi, we're the Wilsons, and we live just across the street. I'm Natalie, and this is my daughter, Monique."

The blonde woman shook hands with my mother and then smiled at me. "Well, we're the Johnstons. This is my son Martin- he's seven- and my name is Lisa. Come in."

We entered the house, with Mrs. Johnston thanking us for the pie and the cookies and offering my mother some tea. She then put the cookies into a Ziploc bag and told Martin that he should show me the tree house.

"A tree house?" I asked as we headed towards the back yard. "The last time I went here they didn't have one. It must be really new." Even from the back door, the tree house was obviously huge. Huge as in huge. And when we got inside, I could see that all it needed was a bunch of cool furniture.

"I'm Martin." He said, waving, and then opened the bag of cookies. "Want one?"

"I'm Monique. And thanks." I replied, and took one from the bag. "But you should try one first before I take a bite."

He did, and he had that obviously overly- satisfied face that everyone has whenever they try out one of mom's cookies. "They're great!" He exclaimed a few crumbs falling out of his mouth.

I smiled and took a bite from my own cookie. It's sort of a requirement for people who socialize well to also have excellent cooking skills. Even if I couldn't socialize as well as my parents did, at ten I was only a few baby steps away from cooking the most awesome batch of cookies.

Martin sat down in the middle of the tree house, the bag of cookies on his lap. "My mom told me I should start a club."

"A club? That's cool." I said, sitting down beside him. "So what's your club's name?"

"I don't know yet. You want to join?"

"Sure. Maybe I could help you in naming the club?"

He smiled, showing perfectly chocolate- chip- stained teeth. "Cool."

"We need something different, something awesome." I said, taking another bite and tilting my head in thought. "Like everyone should have a cool nickname or something."

"That's it! We should have a club where everyone has cool nicknames. Or like, weird nicknames."

Although the name wasn't official yet, The Odd Nicknames Club was definitely born.

Maria

"Mom, I am not joining some kid's club. I'm thirteen. Emphasis on the 'teen' over there. It means I'm a teenager."

My mother crossed her arms at my defiant response. "Maria, your Aunt Lisa moved in yesterday and you didn't even come over in the afternoon to say hi. And you didn't even try to bond with Martin when we went there for dinner last night."

"Well I'm sorry for being busy and tired. If it's what you want, I'll go there first thing tomorrow morning and play whatever it is Martin likes to play nowadays. But no way will I be joining a kid's club, I'm-"

"Too mature for that, I know." My mother finished. "But can you at least pretend to be interested? If his club gets a lot of members his age then sooner or later he won't even notice you're there."

As convincing as that response was, I was still making a stand with my decision. I crossed my arms the same way as hers, and she immediately understood the unwritten message.

"Tell you what, Max; during the days that you go to Martin's club, you'll get out of doing your chores. Remember, I will find out if you're lying or not."

"I will consider that offer."

A little background: My mother's sister, Aunt Lisa, had gotten a divorce with her husband, and during the court session it was agreed that she got custody of Martin while his sister was with his dad. They moved all the way here, for some familiarity and non- monetary support (apparently Aunt Lisa's lawyer was so good that her ex-husband had to pay a lot). My mom is supportive, but most times she's only tolerant; she had always hated her former in- law, and her sister for marrying him in the first place. But Martin? Too damn adorable; plus, he's only seven.

I love my mother, even if it wasn't obvious during that argument. She knew that I hated being treated like a kid. But like every other concerned white- picket- fence mother, she was used to those kind of arguments that regarded me and the fact that I was closer to puberty than she remembered. She called it, of course, a "phase".

I never did remember how I used to decide back then. Even if I already considered myself an adult, it wasn't always about the pros and cons. But in the end I gave up and decided that a couple of hours of trying to be invisible could possibly be better than my chores, which usually related to some form of cleaning with soap and water. If I was lucky, it was the dishes; if I wasn't, it was the animal cages at the clinic she worked at.

"I will go, though I am taking your word that I'll be invisible in no time. I have one condition though."

"I'll consider that."

"You have to convince James to come with me." I answered. James was my best friend, and though we still weren't what people would say "joined at the hip", they had a much worse comment which was that "we would be married someday". Not the most accurate prediction.

In the end? Not being invisible in that club somewhat turned out to be a good thing.

Somewhat.

James

"Thanks a lot for dragging me into this." I dryly told Maria, my best friend, as we trudged up to her aunt's house.

"I am going to ignore that sarcasm and instead convince you that we are going to have fun." She replied in an equally dry manner. "Besides, my mom forced me into this and no way am I going to suffer alone."

"You could've just asked me to help you sneak out."

"First of all, according to my aunt the club is going to 'hang out' in their tree house. And second of all, both my aunt and my mother have the talent of keeping an eye on people, which they aim at me most of the time. So that's not going to happen."

"What's the club thing about anyway? And wouldn't you be more noticed if there was the two of us?"

"I don't even know if there's a chance of me not being noticed."

While a part of me was sort of pissed at having to join her in whatever kids' club we were going to be in, Maria was my best friend and she knew she owed me one. A thing about having a long- time best friend of the opposite gender: you get insight of the aforementioned opposite gender. Even if Maria wasn't what you would call extremely feminine, she knew more about girls than I ever would. And she also had much knowledge about your average guy, thanks to me. The bad part about that is that people are convinced the two of you were going to get married someday. I would have to get past the friendzone first. Also, I would have to like Maria in the first place. She was a girl and often acted like one, but don't let the name fool you. Like I said, she wasn't what you would call extremely feminine.

We had finally gotten to her aunt's house, and though the exterior looked like it was about to crumble, the interior said anything but. At the backyard, a small blonde boy, who Maria told me was her cousin, was playing with a girl slightly older than him. The humungous tree house was pretty hard to miss, and I had to admit that it sort of looked awesome.

"Thanks for coming by, Maria. I thought Valencia wouldn't be able to convince you."

She shrugged in reply. "Anything for Martin. I see he's made a new friend."

"Yeah, she lives just down the street."

"The Wilsons?" I asked, and her aunt nodded in reply. "Of course. The first friend is always the most outgoing one."

Looking back on the friendship between Maria and me, I realized that I didn't remember who met who first and who made the first move. All I remember was a figurative explosion, and then we were best friends just like that. Neither of us was more outgoing than the other.

Anyway, soon after I realized that there were more important things to look back on than how the two of us became best friends.

Nick

A random factoid about me: I like being alone. Being alone wouldn't necessarily mean being isolated from people, but I aimed more for a definition of not having people bug me as I bask in the silence and they do whatever they want. I may have been in a crowded room or in a large crowd, but as long as no one intentionally got my attention, I was pretty alone. And I liked it that way.

That random factoid was also the reason why I did not want to join a club. And it being a kids' club made it so much worse on so many levels. It combined two of the things I hated: socializing too much especially when you're not in the mood, and being treated like a kid.

While I was usually considered as an extreme introvert, my parents were pretty normal by standard. True, their socializing skills were nothing compared to those of the Wilsons, but they were still out there. My mother, in fact, was part of a book club created by none other than Mrs. Wilson. And when Mrs. Wilson told them how her daughter Monique had started a club with their new neighbors, my mother decided it was high time I got a little exposure.

"Oh come on, Nick." My mother pleaded. "You should really try and make a couple of friends. Or at least make friends that you'd want to bring home to hang out with."

"Mom, if I ever wanted to get friends to bring home, I would choose ones my own age." I told her. A thirteen-year-old with friends ranging from ages six to ten basically screamed "desperate".

The thing was, I did have what people would typically consider as friends: there were people from class that I would greet if I felt like it and vice versa. We would have the occasional chat about school and outside social gatherings that our mothers would force us to attend, but it wasn't like I took the time to directly share my personal life with them, and it was the same thing with them. I don't remember if it was my parents or the guidance counselor or the inspirational hobo downtown, but I remember being told that you'll know that a person is your best friend if you want to share a story with that person first before anyone else.

Whoever said that was right in a way.

I ended up losing the fight and had to trudge up to the new kid's place. Then I still had to go to the backyard and make the climb of shame to the tree house. Thankfully, I wasn't interrupting anything.

"Are you Nick?" A small blonde boy, who appeared to be the youngest, asked. I nodded in reply and sat in my own corner of the tree house.

The Wilsons' daughter, who was slightly older than him, clapped her hand once in satisfaction. "Great, now we can start." She said enthusiastically.

Thankfully, I wasn't the only reluctant one.

Third Person POV

Six kids, with their ages ranging from seven to thirteen, gathered at the low table at the middle of the clubhouse. Two of them had excited grins on their faces, the other two were busy talking about something that they only had knowledge of, and the last one stared off into the distance with a very bored expression, and perhaps thoughts of escape that unbeknownst to him, were the very same thoughts the second couple had.

"I'm Martin." The small blonde boy started with an awkward wave. "Thanks for joining my club."

The eldest girl, who was also his cousin, stopped chatting with her companion and feigned enthusiasm. "What's your club called?"

Martin grinned at the other girl, the mocha- skinned one, who also grinned back. "This is The Odd Nicknames Club." She announced.

The eldest girl's friend played along with her. "So what are we going to do?"

"First of all, we have to introduce ourselves, like say our name and something interesting about ourselves." She replied, with a hint of shyness in her enthusiasm. "I'm Monique, and even though I'm a Wilson, I'm not very good at talking to people like my parents."

"I'm Martin, and I think the best things ever are the fireworks displays during the Fourth of July. Especially if you're the ones making them explode."

"I'm Maria," The eldest girl said, "and I'm a quarter Spanish, not exactly obvious which is why the name is already weird."

Maria's friend went next. "I'm James," he said, "and I am not a ginger. My hair is strawberry blond. Or pale blond, whichever of the two you want. But not ginger."

"Can I just leave?" The last boy, who was James' and Maria's age asked. James nudged him in a half- angry manner.

"Dude, the kid's seven. Seven. Can you just play along for now?" James whispered.

With a reluctant sigh and a realization on how rude he had been, he spoke up. "I'm Nick," he said, "and I'm sorry for being rude."

Martin smiled at him in reply. "That's okay."

Monique took the cardboard box at the middle of the table and poured out its contents. Five 'HELLO, MY NAME IS' sticker labels that had been stuck to cardboard and cut appeared along with one permanent marker.

"So for us to be called The Odd Nicknames Club, we need odd nicknames. Everyone has to write an odd nickname, for anyone here, on the name tags." She said, and after writing a name on her own card, passed the marker around for everyone to do the same. Then she asked all of them to put the cards in the box.

"We only have one rule." Martin said as he shook the box. "Whatever name you pick out, you'll stick with it forever. Or else you'll get kicked out and the gods of nicknames will put curses on you."

"Reasonable enough." James spoke up.

"Let us all bow our heads in silence to praise the gods of nicknames." Martin said, and when he felt that everyone had bowed their heads long enough, raised his, and said, "Let's start picking!"

What do you think? I had to do all the first person POV's like everyone was looking back or something because I still haven't mastered the skill of completely thinking like a seven year old.

(It's obvious that you guys know the nicknames, but the question is, DO YOU KNOW THE ORIGIN? I'm hoping for some unidentifiable plot twists this time. Hint: I already have some of them there.)

Anyway, I'm sort of late with starting, because I waited for the school year to end. Hopefully I'll be pretty active this summer.

See you in an indefinite amount of time =D