A/N: WARNING, THIS STORY INCLUDES VERY GRAPHIC AND SOMETIMES RACIST LANGUAGE MUCH LIKE THE CARTOON ITSELF. IT IS BY NO MEANS CREATED TO INSULT ANYONE OR ANY RACE. PLEASE BE CAUTIONED WHEN READING THIS STORY. Themes are rated G, language rated M and violence rated T.

You sigh as you place the rest of your belongings in your closet. Picking up the empty boxes, you start for the living room. You stop at your door and take another look at your new room, deciding that you're satisfied with your arrangement, you exit and walk downstairs.

"Just put them by the door, I'll take care of them afterwards."

Your brother, Mikhail, a 26 year old doctor who specialises in heart surgery is typing away on his laptop. His hair is unkempt and his clothes are unchanged from the day before. You know Mikhail must have taken another all-nighter.

You leave the boxes by the doorway and take another glance at your brother. "Do you want me to unpack your things too?"

Mikhail takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose, his eyes tired and heavy with dark circles. He wipes his glasses on the edge of his button shirt and gives you a smile. "That's fine, Mimi. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? Explore the neighbourhood a bit."

You look out the window at your new home. This neighbourhood is certainly pretty enough, but the peace you feel from this place is a bit unnerving. You glance back at your brother, and once again he's furiously typing away on his keyboard. Deciding it best to give your brother some alone time to concentrate of his latest paper, you walk out the door and move to the garage. The sun is still high up, noon just passed. You put on your helmet and gloves and take out your skateboard. You never liked wearing the safety equipment, but Mikhail always insists strongly that you at least wear a helmet. You pat some garage dust off your white tank top and black shorts before you slide out onto the street. You take out your modest mp3 player and put in the ear buds, the sound of your favourite music blocking out the surrounding noises always calms you down. Realizing how vacant the street it, you move your gaze upwards to the trees and watch the sunlight peek through the foliage. You close your eyes momentarily, drinking in the serenity.

WHAM

Your face collides with something hard as you're knocked off your skateboard and onto the ground. Your mp3 and ear buds are thrown out and fall a few meters from where you lie. You rub your face from the impact and look up in search of the thing that hit you. You meet a pair of arrogant blue eyes on a chubby face.

"That's some board you got there. I'm taking it."

The boy who punched you seems a little older than you. His blond hair is short and chopped. His eyes are blue and squished looking on his freckled face. Your eyes move down from his face to his large white shirt with baggy beige pants.

He stoops down from his red bike and reaches for your skateboard.

You stand up and place your foot firmly on your skateboard just as the boy's hand grabs onto it. He glares up at you and you return the gesture all too willingly.

"This skateboard doesn't belong to you." You state warningly.

He thrusts his palm into your stomach and knocks you onto the ground again. You land on your backside with 'umph'.

"It does now, bitch." He holds your skateboard firmly in his left hand and gives you a final sneer before riding off.

You watch, silently fuming as the boy speeds off with your belonging. You ball your hands into fists as a few violent ideas run through your mind.

From a distance, you can hear angry cries coming your way and growing louder with every second. You turn around to see a black kid around your age running toward you.

"WAIT UP, YOU PUNK ASS NIGGA!" He pants between words, "GIMME BACK MY BIKE!"

The boy stops beside you and rests his hands on his knees to catch a few breathes.

You study the new kid beside you. He wore a white tank top with baggy blue jeans and his hair is braided into cornrows.

"Dammit, this some bullshit... that punk... jackin' my bike." He takes a few more breathes before he notices you staring at him. He glares back at you. "What'chu lookin' at?"

You ignore his antagonisms. "That bike he was riding. It's yours isn't it?"

He looks at your suspiciously, "Yea? So?"

You narrow your eyes and glower in the direction of your thief. "He stole my skateboard." You glance back at him, having established a mutual connection as victims. "Wanna help me take him out?"

The black boy sees the determined glint in your eyes and smirks. "Heh, you betta not hold me back."

And with that, you both take off after the thief, and after running down a few blocks, you manage to catch up to him. This time, you see the large boy holding a smaller kid up by the collar while examining something in his hand. After a while, he tosses the poor boy aside and stuffs whatever he's holding in his pocket. The shorter boy, now free of his captor, scurries away with a tear stained face. Your target, now satisfied with his new steal, moves to get back onto the bike.

"BITCH MAGNUS!" A loud shout erupts from the boy beside you. "YOU BETTA GIMME BACK WHAT YOU STOLE BEFORE I WHUP YO FATASS!"

The blond boy whips around, surprised. When his eyes land on the both of you, he scoffs. "Pfft. Yea, whatever."

The boy beside you growls out in frustration, and as if timed, you both leap into action. Realizing your companion is going for a frontal attack, you make a series of flips and leap behind your enemy. You wait after your ally lands a few punches to his gut before you jump and kick him in his side.

The large boy stumbles back a few steps before glaring back at you, a look that reminds you of an angry bull.

"Hn. You lil shits."

The black kid beside you grins and swipes his nose with the tip of his thumb. "Bring it on, bitch."

He charges toward you and pummels your companion in the face. You bristle and move back, narrowly avoiding a grab from his large hands. Before you position yourself for another attack, your ally charges once again and tries fruitlessly to push him back. The blond boy simply grabs his smaller opponent by the head and starts throwing numerous punches to his face. You rush forward to intervene. Leaping up, you aim a kick to his head, but before your attack can land, his head quickly whips toward you. You tense up from his glower. His bulky arm flies toward you, and you are pushed back in mid-air. You fall back onto the ground like a broken fly having just been swatted. You barely register that your companion is feeling the brunt of his punches again. Grabbing your stomach in pain, you see the black boy fall unconsciously onto the ground, his face swollen and bloody. The larger boy stares mercilessly down at his lost opponent before giving one last kick.

"Hn. Who's the bitch now."

You glower at him. Taking your hand away from your stomach, you force yourself on your feet.

The large boy turns around and scoffs at you. "Haven't had enough. Ch." He advances toward you.

You plant yourself firmly on the ground, establishing your foot hold. You inhale a deep breath of air and centre yourself. Holding up your left arm in a defensive position, you concentrate on building as much energy as possible in your right arm. You watch as your opponent slowly steps forward and lifts his hand. An inch before his fingers reach you, you launch your palm into his centre with a cry. There is a resounding impact as his flesh ripples from the point of collision. The attack blows him off his feet, knocking the wind out of him. He lands with a heavy thump on the ground and rolls around clutching his stomach. His face is leaking several types of fluid as he tries to gasp for air. You walk over and kick him lightly in the back. He coughs out a mouthful of liquid mixed with splotches of blood before taking in a deep breath of air. You stare down at his pathetic state and furrow your eyebrows.

"I suggest you go to the doctor when you can stand up. I most likely damaged a part of your intestines." You turn and make your way toward your semi-conscious ally. Having woken up during your last attack, he stares at you in awe and part disbelief. The wounded boy tries to hold himself up with the back of his elbows. You reach out to help him. Sitting up, he holds his face in pain and tries to wipe away the blood from his nose.

"You ok?" You examine his wounds.

"Shit, yo. Whut... how d'you do dat?" He lets you pick him up by the arm, and you place it over your shoulder to steady his weight. "It's a martial art move I learned from my senior a few years back." You pause when he winces. "My brother's a doctor, and my house is only a few blocks from here. Think you can make it?"

The boy beside you groans, "Shit yo, I dun need no doctor. Don't hurt one bit." He grimaces as he takes a step.

You glance over to your skateboard and his bike, leaning against the base of a nearby tree. You two move gradually toward your belongings. "I still think you should let my brother take a look at you. You might have a concussion and you wouldn't even know."

The boy quickly pulls out of your support and grabs onto his bike. His motion is ragged. "I told you, I'm fine! Damn!"

You watch as the stubborn boy takes a step forward with his bike. His frame sways and he falls over, the bike landing atop of him. You kneel down and shake him from his shoulder. He's out like a light. You frown and sigh. You pick up the bike and kick out its stand before you reach over to pull his unconscious boy over your back. You fumble around with his limb body before you feel you can safely secure his weight in this piggy back. For a boy his size, he was pretty heavy. You kick your board onto the pavement and grab his bike using your left hand while you supported him with your right. You take one more glance at the bully, who is still lying on the ground, shaking, before stepping onto your skateboard and skate off with the bike in tow. However awkward and strained this action is, you somehow make the six blocks home. You let his bike collapse in your garage and kick your board into a leaning position against the wall. With both hands, you push the boy's body upward to adjust the weight. You walk back out and onto your porch. Having no hands to open the door and being the short ten-year-old you are, you press onto the doorbell with the top of your helmet. You almost forgot that it was on your head the entire time. Your brother answers the door after a few rings and looks at you with his mouth hanging slightly ajar.

XX

Having finished examining the unconscious boy, (who is now sleeping away on the couch opposite of you), your brother starts dressing your light wounds. You watch him sit on one knee as he picks out the tweezers and cotton swab from his first aid kit. You swing your legs nervously off the edge of the couch.

"I thought we were past mindless brawls."

You wince as he lightly taps the alcohol swab across your scrapes. You glare at him. "Not my fault. Some kid randomly came and stole my board. He had his bike stolen by him too." You gesture toward the sleeping boy with a nod. "When we tried to get it back, the thief kid got violent. We were just defending ourselves."

Putting a few band aids over your cuts, he stands up and repacks the kit. "And what happened to the thief kid?" Mikhail's lips twitches as he says the two words, "You got your skateboard and bike back, I assume?"

You look away in discontent. "... He was lying on the ground. Might've given him an ulcer."

"Naomi!" Mikhail exclaims, exasperated.

You refuse to look your brother in eye and cross your arms stubbornly. "He deserved it."

Mikhail shakes his head and rubs his temples. "Naomi, you and I both know you're more mature than that. I knew letting you go with that Shaolin Monk was a bad idea."

His ramblings are broken when you hear a groan coming from the boy.

"Ughh... Where am I?" He tries to sit up and then clutches his side in pain. "Dayum!"

"Don't move. I believe you might have a fractured rib." Your brother moves to ease the smaller boy onto a pillow. "Mind telling me your name?"

He stares at your brother through his wince before he notices you sitting across from him.

You shrug. "He's Mikhail, my brother. You fainted when you tried to walk with your bike."

"Whao, whao, whao! Hold up! I didn't faint, OK?" He coughs a bit. "I was just tired, so I decided to sleep fo a while, you feel me?"

You quirk an eyebrow at his ridiculous attempt to cover for his pride. "Uh... sure."

He leans back and crosses his arms. "Damn right yo sure. I dun do no gay ass faintin'." He blinks, suddenly remembering something. "Hey, where's my bike?"

"In the garage, don't worry, it's safe." You pause before continuing. "What's your name?"

He smirks. "Name's Riley, and dun yo foget it!"

'Riley...' You can't help but think his name sounds familiar.

"Riley...you wouldn't happen to be related to Robert Freeman would you?" Mikhail interjects.

Riley blinks at him in surprise. "Yea, that's my granddad. ...Oh shit!" He suddenly grabs his head in panic. "What time is it?" He looks around and his eyes grow when he sees the darkness outside the living room window.

"It's a little past 8. You slept for a while." Mikhail glances at his watch.

"Oh no! Granddad gon kill me. I gots to go!" Riley tries to jump off the couch, but is quickly stopped by the pain that racked through his body.

"Relax. I'll go over to your grandfather's right now. We're neighbours after all."

Memory serves you as you watch your brother walk out the door. He had told you a few days ago about your new neighbour having two kids around your age.

"Whut? I didn't know you was my neighbour. Knew new folks was movin in an' all, but thought it was gonna be another rich white folk." Riley examines you in a reproaching way.

You shrug.

"You got my name, whass yours?"

"Naomi."

Before Riley can open his mouth again, your front door burst open with noise.

"I'm terribly sorry for any trouble my grandson's caused. I swear it won't happen again!"

You see a moderately old man and a boy around your age with a large afro and a dark expression walk into view.

Mikhail rubs the back of his head. "No, your grandson wasn't any trouble at all, really."

You stare at the two new strangers as they advance toward you, and you think you hear a gulp behind you.

"There you are, you little punk! How many times do I have to tell you not to cause trouble for me! I'm tired of your shenanigans! Just wait till you get your ass home boy, oh, you betta be ready to accept de ass whuppin' of your life."

You watch stunned as Riley holds his hands up in defense. "Hold up, granddad! Let me explain! I didn't do nuthin! It was Butch Magnus!"

"Butch Magnus? Why do you constantly got beef with that boy?" The angry grandfather regards his grandson crossly.

"Look, it's not me! I dun got beef with him, I ain't no hater. Butch just got beef with everybody! He's a punk ass BITCH- OW!"

His grandfather hit him upside the head. "What did I say about using bad language in front the neighbours?"

Riley starts sniffing. "Dammit, granddad, why dun you just admit it. You just hate me, dun t'you? I wish we never came to Woodcrest! This place sucks- OW!"

"Dammit, Riley. You are gonna get your ass home, you are gonna think about what you did-"

"Now, now, Mr. Freeman, there's really no need for that. Your grandson also has quite a few serious injuries. You might want to be care-"

"Oh hell no! You hear that, boy! Now I gotta take your dumbass to the hospital and pay outta my ass again. Damn, I'm an old man! I just want to enjoy my retirement in peace, why do you boys constantly have to ruin this for me?"

You stare amazingly at the comical scene before you, and before you can catch yourself, you let out a fit of giggles.

Riley and his grandfather quiet down as everyone stares at you, surprised at your reaction.

You control yourself and stifle your laughter to a light chuckle. "Sorry... heh heh. Riley, you're funny."

Riley blinks at you, with a slight blush on his face. "I-I ain't funny, nigga! Don you be laughin at me!"

You let out another chuckle as Riley's grandfather hits him upside his dead. You quiet down and adopt a more serious visage. "Riley was right, Mr. Freeman. Butch was the one at fault. He attacked us out of nowhere and stole our things. We simply confronted him to get our stuff back. He hurt Riley pretty bad and Riley was just trying to help me."

"He/I did?" Mr. Freeman and Riley exclaims together.

"I-I mean, yea! I did. I whupped his ass cuz he was gettin' all up in our grill. An' I was like 'Whut?! Don't you be hurtin' no girls!' an' he was like 'what'chu gon do 'bout it?' so I was like 'kick yo fatass that's whut!' and so I kicked his fatass."

You giggle again as Mr. Freeman looks at Riley suspiciously. You notice the other boy shake his head, frowning.

"OK, I'll let you off this time, but stay away from that Butch kid. Now let's get you to the hospital." The old man sighs and looks at his watch.

"Actually, if you'd like, I can take him to the hospital where I work. We'll run some quick x-rays before I tape it up. It'll be quick." Your brother offers.

Mr. Freeman smiles sheepishly, "That'll be just swell, and um... what will be the charges?"

"Oh no, I can't do that." Mikhail holds his hands up. "I'm not going to take money from my neighbours, much less my little sister's friends."

You narrow your eyes at your brother. 'My friends, huh?' He was scheming again.

Mr. Freeman grins at the prospect of a free surgery. "Oh yes, that's mighty kind of you, Mr.. uh.. Mr."

"Mikhail Razol Cadena Zyk Montelle. You can just call me Mikhail." Your brother gives a warm smile and offers a handshake, in which Mr. Freeman gladly takes.
"Mikhail, you're a good man, we need more people like you in the world. Why don't you just call me Robert too? No need for all that Mr. Mr. nonsense."

Mikhail laughs warmly.

The older man suddenly turns and gives his two grandsons a severe gaze. "Did you hear dat? You two better treat our new friends with curtsey, got it?"

The two boys glance at either, and then back at their granddad. "Yes, granddad."

You fight the urge to laugh again.

"Let's not dally much longer. I'll go start the car. Robert, would you mind carrying your grandson over?"

You watch as everyone start to move again. Your brother leaves the room and shortly after, you can hear his car start. Riley gives his grandfather a hard time getting picked up, whining about not wanting to look like a bitch and not needing the doctor.

"If you don't want to go to the hospital, stop getting in so many fights." This is the first time you hear his brother speak. You glance over at him, noticing that his frown never left his face.

You follow behind them as they awkwardly try to move Riley into the van.

"It's just surgery, Riley, you'll be asleep for the most of it. You won't feel a thing. Besides, you'll get a nice cool scar to show off later."

Riley stops his struggling and stares back at you. "Forreals? You betta not lie to me."

You draw out an innocent smile. "I wouldn't lie to you, Riley."

You notice Mikhail quirk an eyebrow at your comment in his rear view mirror. You look away but catch the gaze of Riley's brother instead. He stares at you for a bit before looking away. You wonder if he saw through your little act.

For the rest of the ride, you listen to Riley talk about the different kinds of scars he would like, and if Mikhail is able to stitch him up in a certain way or another, which earns him a slap in the back of his head from his grandfather. You have to admit, with these characters around, you think you might like your new home in Woodcrest.

After finishing the x-rays, Riley is rolled off on a hospital bed by a nurse while your brother walks alongside her giving further instructions before parting off to get ready for the surgery. You and Riley's brother sit patiently outside the surgery room while Mr. Freeman is busy with the receptionist filling out some paperwork.

In the silence, you toy with the idea of taking out your mp3 player.

"Thanks."

You look at the boy beside you, surprised. "What for?"

He shrugs. "For looking after Riley." His frown deepens a little. "I know he didn't win against Butch, he's tried in the past," he slides his gaze toward you, "and yet he was still able to get his bike back."

You resist the urge to smirk, "Maybe Riley learned from his past losses."

He shakes his head. "Butch's out of his league…." He turns his head towards you, his eyes penetrating. "You're the one who really fought him and won. Aren't you?"

You narrow your gaze slightly before giving him a pair of puppy dog eyes. "Why would you think that? I'm just a ten year old girl."

Unfazed, he turns and stares down at his interlaced fingers. "I study a lot of martial arts, and I can tell by the way you move that you aren't just an ordinary ten year old. Even now, your body's guarded."

'Aren't you observant….' Your interest is thoroughly peaked. "It takes quite the seasoned martial artist to differentiate the subtle changes in movement, not to the mention a person's guarded and unguarded points." You let go of your mask and offer him a genuine grin. "Ok, I'll admit it, so I'm not that helpless."

He nods in acknowledgement. "What's your name?"

"Naomi." You lean back on your seat, slightly more comfortable now that you don't need to pretend. "What's yours?"

"Huey." He leans back as well. "Where d'you learn to fight?"

You chuckle. "I was taken in by my master Rin-Shu when I was three. He thought I had a lot potential apparently, and so for five years, I lived and followed the ways of a Shaolin Monk." You point at your hair. "I even had to shave my hair an' everything. S'why it's so short."

"Huh." Huey raises an eyebrow at the hair comment.

"So? Where did you train?"

Huey stares out into the hall nonchalantly, "Nowhere. I tried teaching myself."

Your eyes widen slightly. "Self-taught? To reach your level and at this age?" You whistle. "That's quite the discipline and talent you've got there."

Huey just shrugs, not the least bit embarrassed.

You lean forward and swing your legs in excitement. "So? How about it? Wanna test your skills against mine? It'll be fun."

The stern boy looks back at you and contemplates at your exuberant expression before turning away. "Thanks, but no. I don't like to use violence unless it's for self defense."

You're a little unconvinced. "Eh…." You decide if you should provoke him.

Your musings are broken with the opening of the operation room door. You both watch your brother and his assistants walk out with their scrubs. He moves to take off his mask.

"Hey there, kids. Do you know where Robert is?" Mikhail asks in an upbeat mood after bidding his coworkers a goodnight.

"Granddad's still at the reception's desk. How did the surgery go?" Huey asks, a little concerned.

Mikhail smiles, "don't you worry about a thing. Riley will be just fine. He's sleeping right now. You can go see him in the emergency ward. We'll be moving him to a private room soon."

"How long does he need to stay in the hospital?"

You can't help but feel a bit touched by his protectiveness for his brother.

"It varies from patient to patient, but for a boy around his age, he probably only needs to stay a week at least, under monitor. Then you can take him back home, but be sure to supervise him at all times. If he were to pursue any kind of extreme sport, he might offset the braces."

You watch Huey give a tired sigh before facing Mikhail again. "Thank you for everything, Dr. Montelle."

Mikhail laughs heartily. "Just Mikhail's fine. How about I take you to where your brother is right now. I'll go get Robert after." Your brother glances at you. "Want to come too, or would you rather go home and rest?"

You quirk an eyebrow, "I'm fine. Let's go."

After your brother returns with Mr. Freeman, he quickly departs again to fill in for another surgery.

You and Huey are sitting on a couch at Riley's bedside while Mr. Freeman is rambling on again.

"Why do they always need to make things so complicated? Damn, I don't wanna sign no paperwork or give 'em my personal information. What if they bill me for something? This was supposed to be free, wasn't it…?"

You drown out his ramblings. Getting a bit sleepy, you rub your eyes a bit and stifle a yawn.

Huey notices your fatigue. "You don't need to stay here with us, you know." He looks over and calls his grandfather before you can interject. "Granddad, I'll look after Riley. Can you take Naomi back to her house?" He looks over at you again, "You have keys, don't you?"

You look over at Huey, a bit peeved. "I'm fine, Huey, really."

He regards you sternly. "You look tired. I still think you should go home."

Mr. Freeman scratches his head. "Huey's right, Naomi, if you're tired and want to go home, just say so. You've been plenty of help today; you don't have to stay with us if you don't want to."

You shake your head, fighting the sleep. "I'm really fine, Mr. Freeman. I want to stay here…." You look down make a sad face, "but if you don't want me here, I'll understand."

Huey raises an eyebrow while Mr. Freeman quickly lifts his arms in disagreement. "Of course not! How can we, you've been such a wonderful, wonderful little girl! You can stay with us as long as you like!" He smiles at you nervously and gives his grandson a stern glare, "Isn't that right, Huey?"

You look up and give a bright smile. "Really? That's so kind of you Mr. Freeman!"

Huey rolls his eyes.

The rest of the night slowly ticks on. Mr. Freeman fell asleep in a nearby chair and is now snoring away. Huey found a book somewhere and is now reading about the latest in the medicinal world. You remain where you are and try to focus on meditation to keep yourself awake, but it's getting harder as the hours tick by. You can feel yourself slowly nod off, and you know you're losing the fight.

'Ok, maybe I can doze off for just a little while…" You fall into a blissful darkness a second later.

XX

You begin to stir to the rhythmic movement of your pillow. You feel a growing soreness in your neck and back. You groan, trying to get yourself into a comfortable position. Suddenly, your mind makes a halt and you open your eyes. 'Since when do pillows move?' It takes you a moment to register that you're still in the hospital room where Riley was moved to. You look over and see him still sound asleep, as well as another senior individual. You're surprised you were able to fall asleep listening to that. You're thoughts wander to where Huey might be, and an embarrassing realization hits you when you realize it wasn't a pillow you were sleeping on.

"If you're awake, do you mind moving? My shoulder's sore."

You jump at the proximity of Huey's voice. Scooting away, you give a sheepish grin and place your hand behind your head apologetically. "Sorry. Maybe I was pretty tired."

Huey rubs and rotates his shoulder before returning to his book.

You stare at him surprised. "Were you awake all night?"

"Someone had to be." Huey replies without looking away from his book.

As if on cue, Mr. Freeman gives a loud yawn and an exaggerated stretch before waking up. He looks around drowsily and rubs the back of his neck. Sore and stiff, he walks wobbly to the door and exits while muttering something about the bathroom. You hop off the couch and stretch. You look at a clock on the wall: 7:46. You wonder why your brother hasn't come to get you yet.

You look over to the taciturn boy, bored. "Hey Huey."

"…Yeah?"

"Are there any more kids like you? Kids who can fight, I mean."

"No." He replies curtly.

You frown, a little miffed.

"But if you stay here long enough, you're bound to meet some messed up people who want nothing more than to fight."

You raise your eyebrows, amused. "I thought Woodcrest was one of those nicer neighborhoods."

Huey never looked up from his book. "Most of the time it is, but occasionally, you'll meet them. You'll see what I mean soon enough."

You give a small smile. You hear voices at the door before it opens to reveal Mr. Freeman and a very tired looking Mikhail.

"Hey there, Mimi. Think you're ready to go home?"

"Mimi…?" You hear Huey mumble behind you, and you silently curse your brother for calling you by the nickname he came up for you. You look back at Huey.

"Just go, we can take care of things from here."

You nod and turn to leave, but your brother stops you.

"Ah, before I forget. It seems Naomi will be going to the same school as you and your brother, and she'll be in the same grade as you, Huey."

You look up at your brother suspiciously.

"Ain't that something? Do ya hear that, boy? Lil Naomi'll be going to the same school as ya. I expect you to treat her kindly." Mr. Freeman points at Huey warningly.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure they'll become the best of friends. I just have a favor to ask of you, Huey. Since my little sister is new and all, would you mind showing her around on her first day? So she won't get lost."

You're doing the best you can to muster the worst glare for Mikhail right now. He ignores it.

"Sure, Dr. Montelle."

Mikhail thanks them and tips his head in farewell. You can't wait to lecture your brother.

"Have a great day now, Mikhail, and you too, Naomi. Huey'll see ya bright an early tomorrow morning!" Mr. Freeman gives his final goodbyes before the door closes.

Once out of the hospital, your brother breathes in a breath of fresh air. "Haaaa… What a nice bunch of people, don't you think, Mimi?"

You growl at him as you both walk toward the parking lot. "What was that? You and I both know I can take care of myself perfectly fine. It's elementary school for god sakes, not training in the wilderness, which I've also done and perfected, by the way. What are you scheming at? Also, you know I hate it when you call me by that name in front of others."

Mikhail smiles wearily as he unlocks the car door and you both climb in. "I knew you were going to react this way. I'm just trying to help you make friends, Naomi. You know you often have difficulties doing that. Personally, I think those two will have a wonderful and positive influence on you. Secondly, I love the nickname I gave you, it's cute."

You look away with a huff. "I don't have trouble making friends, and I was doing just fine by myself. And, that name IS cute, which is precisely why I hate it, it doesn't suit me at all."

Mikhail laughs at your comment. "Haha. Well, I happen to think you're the cutest little girl in the world, Mimi."

"You have a very biased view." You say dryly.

Mikhail laughs again.

You heave a sigh and look out the window sleepily. It was an interesting and fun day. As you continue on your way to your new home, you wonder if your first day of school will be just as interesting with Huey and Riley.

XX

PLEASE RATE AND MESSAGE!