this is a story. enjoy it, babes. 'twill be updated Saturday's.

disclaimer: i do not, nor do i claim to own, big time rush.

He'd never forget the first words she said to him. Prudence Fischer knew many things, and that included how to make a lasting first impression. She was sixteen, when they met, and she just smiled and looked directly into Kendall Knight's bursting green eyes and said, "I'm dying. Don't fall in love with me."

He thought it was a joke, so he laughed. And, since she did, too, he assumed he was right. But then she stopped and cocked her head, with a certain look in those near navy eyes that read, perfectly clear to Kendall, that she was serious. One hundred percent. So, with his hands deep in the pockets of his skinny jeans, he coughed and looked, determined, at those checkered Vans he'd been wearing for three years. He never found them more fascinating. Kendall watched as they kicked at a rock, at the end of his porch, like they weren't even his own feet. Until she smiled and leaned forward, as if to get his attention. Then, Prudence kicked the stone away from him and looked to the sky. Kendall's head shot up, not to glare, but to question. Only, when he saw her, his head continued up. Because he'd only just met this girl, and she was the most interesting thing of his halfway-over summer. He didn't know what to say, but he figured, following the rules of conversation, that it was his turn to speak. He cleared his throat, but it came out weak and strangled - like he imagined his voice would soon sound. Still, he proceeded, pointing to a cloud and proclaiming, "That one looks like a dick."

Prudence didn't laugh. She didn't say anything, for a while, in fact. Instead, she looked from Kendall, to the cloud, and back again. Prudence chewed the inside of her mouth, eying the sidewalk next to Kendall. Then, she pivoted to stand next to him and nudged, "Move over. I need to see it from your angle." So, Kendall moved, and smiled a bit. "I hope that's not what your dick looks like." Then she looked back at him, with a crooked smile, "That line, about dying. It's my own adaptation from A Walk To Remember."

He didn't know, exactly, if he was supposed to ask. But the dick cloud worked, so Kendall went for it, "So, are you not really dying?"

Prudence shook her head, eyes closed and face scrunched a bit, "Oh, no. I am. Not for another year, though. And you're still not allowed to fall in love with me. But we're going to be friends."

"What makes you so sure?" Kendall's arms crossed and he smirked, jokingly, at this girl. This new neighbor. This new friend. "I've got plenty of friends."

It looked like she was thinking, for a minute. And she took to kicking the rock he once bounced between feet. Only, she looked up on her own, and gave a sad-puppy-dog gaze, "Because, if you were any sort of decent guy, you'd never deny a dying girl's last request." Kendall bought it, and he wouldn't. Not only because Prudence was dying, but because she was fascinating, and different, and felt like she meant something, something important, to him. "And, based on your reaction to the Mandy Moore hook-line-and-sinker, you're exactly that."

"Which is?"

"Decent. Or, decent enough." She shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head.

His arms dropped, his defense followed. Kendall's hands went back to his pockets, more casually, and he watched her closely. In between conversation, she didn't look at him, she looked past him, at the flowers his mom insisted on planting - red, white and blue for the impending Fourth of July. She swatted at a fly, and cooed at a bird, but not once did she look directly at Kendall, when not talking to him. He laughed a bit, unintentionally, he thought, and rocked on his feet for a second, "What's your name?"

She looked up. "Finally. Your rules of conversation are unorthodox, but refreshing." She examined. "You know, you're supposed to ask that before I drop the terminal disease bomb."

"You didn't really give me the chance." Kendall defended.

"I'm Prudence Fischer, and I'm late."

Kendall had started to introduce himself already, and Prudence was starting off down the street. His eyebrow, thick and in all it's glory, arched upward, in confusion. His arms swooped out into a shrug, "Wait, where are you going? Late for what? I didn't even get to introduce myself!"

"If you do that," Prudence turned and shouted back, her dress lagging in time and blowing in the quick, almost fleeting summer breeze. She grinned, wide and proud, "Then we won't have anything to talk about tomorrow. And it's none of your business, what I'm late for. We're not friends."

Her smirk was even visable from 100 feet away. Kendall laughed and shook his head. She was something else. He nodded to himself for a moment, then saluted her, "Well, good riddance, then."

And, walking backwards around the loop, Prudence laughed and shouted a final comment to make Kendall chuckle, on his way up his porch, "Yeah, yeah. You and your penis cloud won't be missed." After that, she turned, and smiled politely at Brooke Diamond, the mother of James' best friend. She gave a disapproving look, climbing into her BMW, and eyed Kendall on his porch.

He raised a hand, waved, and hollared, "Hey, Mrs. Diamond!" Before stepping back into the air conditioning of his two-story, Willowbrook-style home.

She moved in, the day prior, when it was too warm for manual labor, or even lifting a refreshing glass of water. When the sun seemed to burn the asphalt of the cul-de-sac. The third house in the circle, two away from his, had been on the market for two years, since Kendall started High School and Danny Tyler - the boy who used to occupy said house - went to Stanford just like Mister and Missus Tyler planned. That day, the chain of Sherwood High School hockey players occupying Hoover Hill Estates was broken. So, together, the remaining four - Kendall and his three best friends, James Diamond, Logan Mitchell and Carlos Garcia -waited for that void to be filled. And, like a Godsend, that summer day, clad in a green tank top and jean shorts, their solution came. Staring out the bay window of the Knight's cookie-cutter house, James, Carlos, Logan and Kendall watched with their XBOX controllers in hand. James was immediately interested, this tan, tall, leggy and admittedly attractive girl was living next door to him. All his prepubescent dreams come true, provided her window was across from his. Carlos was more concerned with the arguement he was having, via text, with his cousin Alex, over who would win in a fight: The Situation or DJ Pauly D. Logan was wondering, aloud, why they chose noon to start moving in - as it was the warmest time of day. And Kendall, he could have cared less. The only neighbors he talked to were the guys, and he didn't plan on that changing. And like fate, out of the entire cul-de-sac, Prudence stepped up to his yard, the sidewalk leading up to his steps, and talked to him. All because the pug begging at his feet, named Charlie, needed to go outside.

Considering everything, however, it wasn't all bad. Kendall closed the light wood door at the front of his house and, out of habit, turned the deadbolt locked. Katie, the youngest Knight, scuttled down the stairs, obviously annoyed. She called out, "Mom!" three times, all before reaching the bottom of the staircase, where Kendall ruffled her hair. Katie, ever-sassy and always quick-witted, looked up at him, "Look, big bro, just because you're high on talking to the new neighbor chick, doesn't mean there aren't pressing matters within this household."

Kendall's hands went up in surrender, taking a step back. He smirked a bit, which evolved into a smile as Katie took off through the foyer, into the kitchen. Kendall kicked off his Vans and followed, sliding like it was Risky Business, and for once he was home alone. He stopped himself in the archway of the kitchen and greeted his mom with a loud, exaggerated, "Just take those old records off the shelf!"

Jennifer Knight, playing her housewife, supermom role flawlessly, gave her time to laugh at the only son she had and then turned back to Katie. Her daughter was rambling, talking a mile a minute, and hands flailing, "Look, Katie. I'm sure Mandy intentionally ditched you and your project, but I've got an annual Fourth party to bake for." Jennifer glanced at Kendall, sighed, and continued to listen to Katie's rushed words. "Yes, write a strongly worded text. There's a thesaurus in the office. Did you need something Kendall."

The towering blonde watched his retreating sister, then hopped up on the barstool, elbows leaning comfortably on the island, "I could go for a milkshake, a burger and fries. If you're not busy, that is." Kendall smirked, Jennifer didn't. He leaned back, "It was a joke." He then picked at the pie, cooling on the counter, before Mrs. Knight slapped his hand away, "Mom, stop stressing. The Hoover Hill Hags will love your pie, just like they do every year."

"One, don't call them hags. They're my friends, and your best friends parents." She made a valid point, pulling another pie out. "And, considering that your father was never good at keeping secrets, I happen to know just how much of a hag you think Mrs. Mitchell is."

"Jesus, Mom." The sixteen-year-old rolled his eyes, and ignored the knot in his stomach at the mention of his Dad, "I was eight, and she pulled me out of the pool when I thought I was going to die. I was delirious from trauma. That doesn't count."

The two fell into a mutual, comfortable, mother-son silence. Jennifer fidgeted and fretted about the kitchen and Kendall had his gaze fixed outside, in the backyard. Tomorrow, it would be filled with those who remained in the neighborhood for the holiday. Kendall supposed, if he had fought for his independance, he might care a little more about it. As it was, however, he didn't want to - nor was he planning to - join any Armed, Naval or Air force. He had bigger dreams, involving the Minnesota Wilds and his three best friends. It was only when Kendall's stomach growled that either of the two Knight family members said anything. Naturally, it was Kendall, "What's for dinner?"

"Whatever you find in there," Mrs. Knight pointed to the refridgerator, "Or in there." Then to the pantry.

Kendall scoffed, pushing off the wall of the island to scoot his chair back, "Parenting, Mom. You're doing it right."

"Speaking of parenting, you were talking to the new neighbor girl?" Her son, from the cupboards, gave her a wary look, as if to ask if she was eavesdropping. Jennifer shook her head and took to preparing a third, hopefully final, apple pie. "These halls echo, and mother's hear everything. Other than that, Katie's got a loud mouth."

He let out a breath, shrugged, then closed the hardwood cupboard door, gently. Stepping over to the fridge, Kendall leaned casually on the door, peering inside like he'd found the portal to Narnia and was now debating entering or not, "Yeah, I talked to her."

"And?"

He stood, switching to the freezers, hoping for Pizza Rolls, "And, what? I just met the girl. Though, I know you're already mentally planning our wedding. She's cool, alright?"

"Cool." Mamma Knight repeated, nodding and doing some form of "surfer" hand motion. Kendall laughed, "Then you wouldn't mind taking this," She handed her son a pie, which he hesitated taking, "To this mysterious, unnamed girl and her parents, as an invitation to the Annual Fourth."

"Her name is Prudence." He said, simply, taking the pie and setting back on the counter, "And, I doubt she'll be there, or want to be disturbed. She said she was late for something."

"Ooh, she is mysterious."

Tall, blonde and eyebrows nodded his head, "Just as mysterious as the caserole you made last year, right, Mom? I'll go invite her later, without the help of your cooking. Alright?"

Jenn laughed, fanning the deserts, herself, and setting the oven mits down, "Just promise you'll behave tomorrow."

Dipping his finger in the pie, ducking his Mom's swing and licking his finger clean, Kendall nodded and left the kitchen, "Scouts honor, Ma."

He climbed the stairs, like always, two at a time, and made a B-line for his bedroom door - just to the left, past the bathroom. With the door closed behind him, Kendall took a minute to remember the day Joanna Mitchell saved him from near death, in the Garcia's pool. Then, with a shake of his head and a flip of his bangs, he plopped down on his bed and opened his laptop. Only a few minutes after, passed with pointless Facebook browsing, Kendall heard voices outside. He'd normally ignore, of course, the occasional neighborhood rukus, but a recently familiar, melodic and female voice flew through his open window. So, he dragged himself off his bed and stuck his head out. Sure enough, there was Prudence Fishcer, halfway inside a white Impala when he saw her and she noticed him. She smiled and waved, frantically, "Hey, Dick Cloud!" Then, she turned to the much taller, much bulkier man behind her, "Dad, that's Dick Cloud. The boy I was telling you about."

Her dad stopped fumbling with the keys to the out-of-date vehicle and looked up. Almost the spitting image of his daughter, or vice versa, he smiled and waved, too. "The boy from the stoop! Hello, Dick Cloud!"

Kendall's eyes had never been so wide, but he'd also never been so amused. With a grin, and ignoring the joggers, lawn-mowers and occasional sunbathers, he waved back and said, "It's nice to meet you!" With a hand cupping his mouth, as if to amplify it through the humid, summer air.

Mister Fischer, with a shrug, nodded his head at Kendall, adding, "We'll have to meet properly, when we're not running behind."

When he got in the car, Prudence looked at her father, then back to Kendall. She waved once more, and Kendall smiled, then she followed her Dad's lead and instruction, climbing into the car and fastening her seat belt, carefully. Kendall watched them pull out of the Hoover Hill gates, then returned to computer, mindlessly scrolling and wishing James wasn't working. Though part of him remained happy. Kendall met her first, Prudence approached Kendall. He had full bragging rights. Hours later, after the sun had set and he'd feasted on Lays, Kendall's phone rang, a loud, generic ringtone, and he blindly felt for it, behind him, on his nightstand. Once it was in his hand, he smirked at the caller, and answered, "You saw."

"As did Logan, and neither one of us think James will be too pleased." Carlos' voice stated, matter-of-factly.

Kendall could hear Logan mumbling something in the background, "We made the 'dibs' rule in seventh grade, I'm sure there's some "she came onto me loophole." Besides, it's not my fault he got the prestigious position of cashier at Dairy Queen, alright?" Kendall's reply was foolproof.

Logan took hold of Carlos' phone, "A pact is a pact. You're playing with fire."

It wasn't Kendall's place to say anything personal about Prudence. Though, he figured, if she were here, she'd have already told Logan and Carlos her excessively morbid news. Still, he kept if vague enough and shrugged his shoulders, feeling the tension from a bad-night sleep, "I don't even know the girl. Neither does James." Then, he took a second to change the subject. "What're you guys doing?"

Carlos shouted in the background, mouth - no doubt - full with food, "It's pizza night at Casa De La Garcia. You should ditch your internet porn and come over."

"Oh, hah hah." The party of one on the line scoffed and stood from his bed, looking out the window, next door, at Carlos' house. "I'm on my way."

Down the stairs, shoes slipped on, and with a quick peek in the kitchen to excuse himself, Kendall was out the door. His mom shouted something about taking the pie, take the pie Kendall! But, he was gone. Like fate, as soon as Kendall stepped back outside, he saw Prudence climbing out of the shabby Impala of her father - a McDonald's milkshake in her hand. He looked at The Garcia's behind him, back to Prudence Fischer and then made the choice to jog over towards the girl who chose not to know his name. His shoes clapping on the pavement announced his arrival before he said anything. She turned, as did her Dad, and smiled, "Dick Cloud!"

"Hey, there." Kendall acknowledged her father, who greeted him with his less-than-desirable nickname. Prudence smiled at both of them, but focused her attention on Kendall when Mister Fischer stepped inside, "Uh, there's this annual cook-out, for the Fourth of July. Most people call it the Annual Fourth. Point is," He sighed, grinning, "I'm here to officially invite the new neighbors to join."

"This isn't a Stepford Wives thing, is it?" Prudence's sculpted brow lifted, and the right corner of her mouth - as if attached by a string - followed. Kendall laughed and shook his head, "Good, because it's just me and Craig."

Kendall was confused, of course, and proceeded to ask, "Craig."

"Uh, Dad." Prudence corrected, "Sorry."

"Can I ask what happened to your Mom?" Kendall didn't want to prod, so he felt he should add, "It's just me, my mom and my sister. So, I know what it's like...I guess."

Prudence cocked her hip. It wasn't intended as a defensive move, and it was almost friendly and inviting, but she replied, "Can I ask what happened to your Dad?" As if to challenge Kendall.

He shook his head, sheepishly, jokingly grinning. "I'd prefer you didn't."

She shrugged, "We have an entire year to find out everything about each other." It sounded depressing to Kendall, and it was almost unnerving how collected and calm she was when it came to the subject. He'd heard of coming to terms, but it seemed this new girl, this mystery girl, was too comfortable with it. Still, he said nothing, "Including tomorrow, when I get to find out your name. Until then, goodnight, Dick Cloud."

For the second time that day, Prudence backed up, this time pretending to tip a hat. Kendall laughed, mimicking her, "Prudence Fischer. I'll see you."

And then, off to the Garcia's he strolled.