Chapter One

Three days before the start of school and we have started moving into our new house. It's nice, I guess. A large two story with four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, a huge basement that has a den off of it (my new room), and a state of the art kitchen. If I wasn't so pissed about having to move, I'd be excited about the house. That being said, I've already begun my misanthropic behaviour by isolating myself in my new room and laying on my futon relaxing. It's not that I have one of those angsty teenage relationships with my Dad and two brothers; it's more that I prefer to be by myself. Luckily my family understands and respects it since my fabled mother was the same way I am.

I never got to know my mom, since she died in a car accident a year after I was born. We don't talk much about her, just like we never talk about the unborn sibling she had been carrying, but my eldest brother, Matt, has told me that I not only look exactly like her, but our personalities are shockingly similar as well. My other brother, Caleb, doesn't see it and tells me mom would never have been as much of a "freak" as I am. You've got to love brothers.

Personally, I can't imagine any mother being like me, or rather, me being like any mother. I dislike people and crowds with a burning passion, preferring my dogs to any human company. I read and write more than any other 15 year old, and like video games more than most girls. I don't dress up unless I'm being threatened to look presentable by my Dad, and I have an extreme aversion to young children. My Dad always jokes that my personality and appearance are such a huge contrast, that the struggle is shown in my partial heterochromatic eyes. Each of my eyes is half blue, half brown; pair that with my black wavy hair, delicate features, and slim frame; I look apparently "sweet and exotic," but my personality is "mysterious."

Since I'm not much of a people person, I'm not much of a talker and usually spend my time quietly enjoying the company of my three dogs where I don't need to worry about using the right words to show my feelings to them – they just know. My dogs are my best friends; each one was a rescue that I couldn't turn my back on. Sym is a beautiful tan male retired racing Greyhound that was my first adopted dog two years ago at age three. A little while after I brought him home, he showed some separation anxiety so I adopted Picasso, a two year old male white Shepherd from a local shelter. They became best friends and slept together every night on the dog bed in my bedroom. Finally, a month before ago, I adopted a female two year old red Doberman named Aurora from a rescue organization to complete my pack.

Aurora is still getting used to being a part of a family now, and is finding it a bit hard to play with the two boys. She is by my side at all times – if I shower she's sitting beside the tub with her head poking around the curtain to keep an eye on me. I was told when I adopted her, that she was abused and abandoned, so I should be prepared for her extreme attachment to me. I don't mind though, since having a Doberman at my constant side means I can walk anywhere at any time of night without fearing for my safety. She's not as aggressive as Picasso tends to be, but makes up for it in looks.

I glanced over at the three dogs snuggling on their "bed" (a mixture of old pillows and blankets piled into a nest like fashion) and smiled lovingly. These dogs can be likened to my children. I feel the same love, attachment, protectiveness, and pride that any mother must feel. Checking my watch, I saw that it was 3:30 pm so I figured it was time take the dogs out for a walk and explore the neighbourhood of suburban Danville.

"Come on kids, time for a walk," I tell them and immediately three fur covered bodies jump up and rush to find their gear. Aurora is the first to return with her leather lead. I clip it onto her more as a formality rather than necessity since she never wanders away from me. Next is Sym with his martingale collar and lead attached. I slip it on over his head and scratch behind his ears fondly. Finally Picasso returns carrying his backpack and leash. I pop a couple bottles of water for the dogs as well as my wallet and cell phone into the backpack and clip it onto Picasso's back. He holds his head high and proudly while wearing it, because it gives him a job and purpose, plus it tires him out faster. I then clip the lead onto his collar and slip on my sunglasses, before leading the dogs upstairs.

"Dad!" I call out, "I'm taking the dogs for a walk." I stuff my feet into my Vans, grab my keys, and gather the three leads in one hand.

"Don't get lost Elena, and make sure you're home by 6:00 for dinner, or call," my Dad's deep scratchy voice calls back. I open the door and head outside, the dogs calmly walking beside me. If there's one thing that can be said about these three, it's that they're the best behaved dogs most people have ever seen. I could, if I wanted, put my face down beside their food, and they would simply back away.

That's the problem with most dog owners. They treat their animals like cute little children, instead of acting more like a dog – and pack leader – themselves. As a result the dogs lack discipline, purpose, and leadership. I hate people who buy toy dogs to keep in a bag with frilly outfits. I honestly think it's as damaging to the dog as dogfights are. Unfortunately, though, I'm one of few who believe this.

As I go to walk down the driveway, I notice Matt is working on his truck, I walk over to him and smile as Picasso nudges his leg.

"Hey Elle," he says smiling at me. "You guys going out for a walk?" I nod at him and he chuckles. "Well watch out for boys, and if you need me, hook me a text alright?" I smile and stand on my toes, kissing his cheek. He laughs a bit before ruffling my hair. "Get out of here kid, before Caleb finds you." I laugh softly and make my way to the sidewalk, before deciding to turn left in the direction I remember seeing a dog park.

The dogs were excited to be out and exploring with me. Sym tried to meet everybody we passed, while Picasso's hackles raised at any male older than 15. He had been beaten almost to the point of death by two teenage boys before I got him, and it was only through a lot of serious and extensive work, that I've managed to get him to the point where he's friendly with my family, and no longer lunges at every man we pass. He's still wary, and will snarl if somebody gets too close to me, but there's no need to muzzle him anymore.

After about ten minutes, I heard hammering and sawing from a backyard. Curiously, I headed towards it, planning on just taking a quick peek – enough to satisfy my curious nature – and then quickly move on. When I peered through the wooden boards, however, the sight caused my breath to hitch in my throat.

Standing amidst what could only be described as a warzone of construction were two boys and a girl, all roughly my age, building what looked to be a car from scratch. The girl had black, pin straight hair and was dressed in a preppy fashion, with flip flops, jean shorts, and a pink top. She wasn't helping the boys, so much as chatting away at them - more so to the boy with fire red hair. He was the shorter of the two boys and was talking to the girl exuberantly. He wore baggy blue jeans, sneakers, and an orange t-shirt while in his hands was what looked to be blueprints. He started pointing out some detail to the final boy. This last one was tall – easily 6'0" or more – with forest green hair that was straight and hanging into his face. He was wearing purple skinny jeans, and a white V-neck shirt. I could see that he was built with lean muscle as he was working on the engine in the car.

While I was spying on my new neighbours, Sym must have focused on some sort of small animal because the next thing I knew, his lead was ripped from my hand and he took off through the gate and into the yard.

"Fuck," I swore under my breath. I unclipped Picasso's backpack and told him, "Get Sym." Picasso took off after Sym. I knew he wouldn't catch him, but the Shepherd had a much better chance than I ever would. Aurora followed dutifully as I ran into the yard. "Sym, heel!" I called, knowing he probably wouldn't listen. Greyhounds were sight hounds and once they got fixated on their prey, they rarely are able to be recalled, even one as well trained as Sym. Luckily there was no other exit to the yard and Picasso managed to snatch Sym's lead off the ground. I grumbled under my breath as I ran towards them.

The red haired boy approached Picasso and his hackles began to rise as I yelled, "Stop!" The red haired boy froze and looked over at me. "He hates men, especially strangers," I explained.

"Sounds like my ex-girlfriend," the boy joked and I smiled.

"Picasso, Sym, heel," I commanded and obediently Picasso led Sym over to me. I placed Picasso's backpack back on him and buckled it up, the whole time chastising Sym quietly. "I'm really sorry about that, I didn't notice Sym – the Greyhound – had fixated on something. Do you guys have a cat or squirrels that lurk around?" I asked somewhat quietly. I could feel the back of my neck getting a bit red out of embarrassment. I hated having one of my dogs misbehave, but didn't fault them for it.

"We have a platypus named Perry. My name is Phineas by the way and this is my brother Ferb. That's Isabella, our friend," the red haired boy, Phineas, explained.

"I'm Elena, and a platypus?" I questioned.

"It's a semi-aquatic mammal with a duck bill and a beaver tail. They also lay eggs," I looked over at the green haired boy, Ferb, shocked at the sound of a silky British accent. Up close, he looked like a hipster. His dark blue eyes were framed by big chunky glasses, on his full lips was a lip ring on the lower left side, his ears were gauged, and peeking out from the collar of his shirt looked like the edge of a tattoo.

"I know what a platypus is," I snapped at him, "I just was surprised they could be kept as pets." He raised his eyebrow and smirked slightly. I didn't have the patience for guys like him. They thought that they were God's gift to women and if a girl didn't faint at the sight of them, the girl was playing hard to get rather than just not being interested. Definitely not the type of guy I'd want to associate with on any level.

"Hey, where is Perry?" Isabella asked. Phineas looked around and shrugged while Ferb continued watching me intently.

"I guess he's hiding," Phineas said. I blushed slightly, knowing Sym was to blame. Looking down at the culprit though, I couldn't help but smile. Picasso was scolding him with low grumbles and soft woofs. Sym may have been the oldest, but when it came to the rules, Picasso wouldn't stand for anybody disobeying them. "So, got enough dogs?" Phineas asked. I looked up at him and chuckled a bit.

"They're my best friends," I explained, not ashamed of saying it, "Especially now that I'm new in the area. The Greyhound is Sym, the white Shepherd is Picasso, and this shy girl is Aurora." Aurora was sitting behind me, her head peeking around my leg watching the new people carefully. She trusted me to take care of her so she wasn't necessarily afraid, but she was a shy girl at heart. Isabella took a tentative step towards them.

"Can I pet Aurora?" she asked softly. I nodded and tugged Aurora's lead, forcing her to come out of hiding. I knelt beside her and stroked her head gently, whispering reassuring things to her as Isabella came over and held out her delicate, manicured hand. Aurora stretched her head out to sniff her carefully, before placing her head under Isabella's hand, allowing the new girl to pet her. My heart swelled with pride as I saw all of my hard work finally paying off. "She's so beautiful Elena, I've always wanted a big dog, but I have a Chihuahua named Pinky," Isabella said softly. She sat on the ground before Aurora and continued petting her.

Sym and Picasso seemed to be getting jealous so they began pushing their way into Isabella's lap on either side sending Isabella into a fit of giggles, trying to show attention to all three of the dogs.

"So, you said that you're new here?" Phineas asked. I nodded at him, trying to avoid making anymore eye contact with Ferb who was still watching me with his intense stare.

"I'll be starting at Danville Senior High as a sophomore in a few days," I explained.

"That's awesome," Phineas said, "Myself and Isa are starting as sophomore too. Ferb is a junior there though. Where are you living? You should hang out with us at school." I smiled, grateful that I could start this year off on the right foot.

"I live about a block from here, over by the gas station," I explained.

"Do you need a ride to school on Monday?" I glanced over at Ferb, he was still smirking a bit as he asked. I shook my head.

"No, thank you. My older brother is driving me." I looked down at the dogs and Picasso moved to stand before me, watching Ferb with his hackles up. Ferb didn't notice him, but continued staring at me. "Anyways, I should go. The dogs still need to be walked, and I need to finish unpacking." I gathered the leads as I said this, my face turning slightly red at Ferb's unending attention. It was unnerving having him watch me like a hawk. I hurriedly left the backyard after muttering a quick goodbye and heading back in the direction I came from, reeling slightly from the interaction. They were a strange group, but none as strange as Ferb and how he stared at me with those intense navy blue eyes.

When I got home I led the dogs directly into the backyard where there was a door leading into my basement. I when inside, and took off the leads, Sym's collar, and Picasso's backpack, putting them all in a basket beside the door. I removed my wallet and phone from the backpack and went into my room as the dogs had something to drink in the hallway. I placed my phone in my pocket and put my wallet on my bookshelf before grabbing a box to begin unpacking.

A few hours later, I was completely unpacked and organized. Everything was as it should be, from the books spilling off of the six foot bookcase, to the clothes spilling out of the closet. My TV with my Playstation was hooked up and even the cable was now working. On my desk, my computer was set up and connected to the internet. Everything was as it should be. Even the dogs seemed more relaxed now that all of our belonging had been unpacked. Aurora lounged with me on my futon as I read while Picasso and Sym played tug-of-war. A knock at my door drew me out of my book, and I looked up to see Matt grinning at me.

"Hey Elle, dinner will be here soon. Dad didn't feel like cooking so he ordered Chinese food," Matt told me as he sat on my floor to pet Sym and Picasso. "Hey boys, did you protect Ellie from all the horny teenager boys out there?" I snorted.

"Actually Sym caused me to meet to horny teenage boys," I told him, and launched into my afternoon adventure. When I was done, I could see that Matt was a bit tense. "What's wrong Matty?" I asked him. He shook his head and grinned.

"Nothing, I'll drive you to and from school though, okay? My classes work around your school schedule perfectly," I nodded, not surprised by his overprotective behaviour. After our mom died, he apparently felt like it was his responsibility as the oldest to take care of me. I've never objected, it helps having a brother like Matt. He then stood up. "Come on, dinner's probably here by now, and I'm starving."

I got up off of my futon and headed upstairs, dogs in tow. They rarely let me go anywhere without them. As I went into the kitchen, I smiled at my Dad and grabbed a plate, loading it down with food. That was another thing about me that was unique from most girls; I ate. I managed to keep my body slim, though, by walking my dogs for at least an hour two or three times a day.

I sat at the round table inbetween Matt and my Dad and ate silently, while the dogs ate their dinner. I listened as Caleb complained, Dad told him to buck up, and Matt talked about the improvements he's making on his truck. After I finished eating, I cleared my plate and headed downstairs with my pack to read myself to sleep.