As you may know, the first day of school can be troublesome whether you are 6 or 66. And if you do not know, then take your parents by the hand and put them in time out for not sending you to school. For Duncan and Isadora Quagmire, the first day of school is quite troublesome indeed.

Chapter One:

There are many types of car rides: ones that are filled with joy and songs about a certain number of root beer on a wall, or there are the ones where you are in consent fear of a man dressed as a one eyed pirate finding you and asking for a moment of your time. My dear sister, may she rest in peace, once told me about a time when she worked as a taxi driver in the city and was in consent contact with these two types of car rides. She especially mentioned the ones where poison darts were handed to her and in which case became a third type of car ride. The one car ride I hope you may never endure is one that has to do with tears, confusion, and financial advisors.

"Your parents are very smart people: handling their profits to the city's sixth most important financial advisor," an Upper Westside, a phrase which means "snooty", voice proclaimed in the driver's side of the car currently in motion.

A boy with very dark hair and wide eyes looked up, his face looking as if he ate too many tart candies. "You mean were, they were very smart.

The eldest of his siblings, the boy named Duncan was quite right. Less than three hours ago, he lost his dear parents in a fire that took over his family's mansion.

"Don't correct me young man! No one talks to Esmé Gigi Genevieve Squalor like that, much less a child!" Esmé Gigi Genevieve Squalor said, her face half covered by the oversize sunglasses in the ironic shape of the sun.

Duncan was about to open his mouth to argue, when he was elbowed sharply by his companion: his sister, Isadora. She gave him a look that came across as shut your mouth. It is quite rude for someone to give another someone looks that are not nice, but for Isadora, her thirteen years of experience with Duncan taught her that he was very argumentative and a sharp elbow to his side would shut his mouth for at least the rest of the car ride. Or until the sun shaped glasses lady talked again.

"Your parents know what the best is, and as such wanted the best for you," Esmé resumed, her voice coming out automatic and rehearsed, as if fires and death happened in her daily life.

"What is the best they had in mind for us?" Isadora asked, her eyes red rimmed from crying for two hours straight.

"The best option possible," Esmé huffed, annoyed by the pestering questions. "Now stop talking, you are making my head hurt!"

The Quagmires had no problem not talking, for no words could express their unfortunate predicament. Unlike the city's most important financial advisors glasses, the Quagmires were not bright and yellow. A fire destroyed their home and they were now whisked away in this small car to where, they do not know.

At first looking at the Quagmires, you may stop and say "now don't you two look-alike!" Usually, that may be the case for two people who are twins, or people born at the same time. But that was not the case for these two people. Duncan and Isadora did look a lot alike, but they are not twins. They are triplets, a case in which three people are born at the same time. There are only two Quagmires, yes, but we must continue with the story before I give out such depressing details.

The car came to a sharp stop, sending the two siblings forward, their heads aching from the impact.

"We are here," Esmé announced, rolling down the window.

Before them were gloomy, head stoned buildings. A chilly sensation overcoming the newly titled orphans.

"Duncan," Isadora whispered as her brother opened the door and took a step outside.

"Yes?"

"I do not believe we are in London anymore."

And that, my readers, was the absolute truth.