If I were asked to describe my life in one word, it would be: moving. My family is always moving. We have this crazy-cool haunted house Halloween thing going, and during months other than October, we usually live in an apartment in whatever state we're in. The Halloween house stunt is loads of fun, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

But, naturally, I have a desire to make friends. And, obviously, that's a bit impeded by our lack of a stable home. I don't even make temporary friends at school, since I'm homeschooled (it's more convenient, since we move so much, that I can keep up during October). I occasionally make some friends wherever we stay, but they learn well in advance that I'm always on the move, and so I always feel a bit distanced from them.

Then we stopped in Danville for Halloween weekend. There were apparently loads of kids there, making it our final stop for the month. There, I met some really cool kids named Phineas, Ferb, Isabella, Baljeet, Buford, and... um... their redhead sister... Candy, or something like that. They decided to take on the haunted house when I used my usual "I don't wanna go in there" trick. What's awesome is that they actually had ghost-busting equipment on them. My mom and dad pulled out all the stops to scare them. Heh, I even took them across "the river". Even I don't know how my mom and dad work that, but the zombies in it are awesome. Then they smashed apart Pumpkinhead. That... well, we were gonna have to repair him.

We revealed ourselves: myself, Russell, my dad, Waylen, and my mom, Mona. Isabella commneted on how our names were practically themed for Halloween. I didn't even mention that our last name is Triks. Unfortunately, we had to leave soon afterwards (and we're gonna have to get whole walls repaired on that house, thanks to some crazy mob and a werecow).

Nearly two months have passed, and it's Christmas time. I've really missed the Danville kids. I wonder what they're up to, anyway...

"Hey, Russell, you've got mail!" That was my dad. I was fairly surprised. My "friends" normally distanced themselves a bit, to avoid getting heartbroken when we leave. I didn't usually get mail.

"Coming, dad!" I yelled.

I ran into the room of the apartment that could loosely be called a living room, and my dad chucked a letter at me. I caught it and ripped it open with a bit of an overzealous excitement. It was a postcard, with a picture of the Danville kids, minus Candy, having a snowball fight. There were words in the corner.

"Merry Christmas, Russell! We made an any-distance GPS tracker to find your location to send this card to you. Sorry that Candace isn't in the picture; she was taking it. We're looking forward to Halloween to see you again. Search us out if you have time, and you can join in one of our-" I squinted. They were running out of space, and the test was cramped. "- Big Ideas. Your friends, P., F., I., C., Bu., and Ba."

I smiled. Just a little more than 10 months before we're on the road.