Author's Note: This is my new multi-chapter Fosters AU. It's Brallie. If you guys like this chapter, I will continue. Leave me feedback and tell me if you'd like to be a character!

Brandon rested his head on his palm glancing out the window of his mom's clunker of minivan, watching as the school approached. He was 17, but his hopeless hand eye coordination resulted in him being the only junior that was driven to school. As the vehicle lurched to a stop in front of the building, he grabbed his tattered navy messenger bag and kissed his dark-haired mother, Lena, goodbye on the cheek before heading into the school with his normal slouched stance. He was tall and lanky for his age, but his faded flannel and dark jeans caused him to hide in the sea of colors students at his school sported, hoping to garner the attention of theit 'one true love'.
Brandon scoffed mentally as he watched a choir student practically pull down her already plunging v-neck as she attempted to make conversation with an already preoccupied basketball champion. Teenagers, he'd long ago decided, new nothing about love. They were just a rush of hormones, lust, and limerance...any feelings they supposedly had was obviously a thing of fiction. He saw the way his moms, Lena and Stef, seemed to live in perfect sync, with the physicial replationship being minor, and knew that that's how love wa meant to work. It was meant to be a thing of understanding, of pure caring with reason for no reason at all.
Maybe this was pessimistic of him, and maybe he felt this way because he'd never had any sort of romantic entanglement, but seeing the sickly portrayal of threadbare relationships forming and breaking constantly around him, he had no reason to test whether a high school girlfriend could go beyond lust. Brandon glanced at his reflection in a nearby girl's locker mirror and was reminded that even if he wanted to land a date with someone, he was practically a nobody in the hierarchy of school and no girl had ever found him to be any semblance of attractive. He just floated around, with aquaitances here and there, but no real group of friends he could call his own. And he'd like to think he was fine the way he was, thank you very much.
Shaking these over analytical thoughts out of his head, Brandon grabbed the necessary textbooks from his locker and found his way to his favorite and first class of the day, Pyschology and Sociology. Few people took the class, due to the insane course load, but Brandon loved nothing more than learning about the human psych.
He located an empty desk somewhat near the rear of the classroom, away from the neandrathals causing a racket in the front. As he slipped into his chair, the bell rang and students mulled about, dejectedly taking thier own seats. Strangely, Mr. Bradley, their always on point teacher was missing from the classroom. He was known for being a stickler on time, and him being tardy was as a strange as could be. Brandon shuffled his homework, unsure what to do as the rest of the class murmured rumors, theorzing the reason for Mr. Bradley's untimely absence. Just as students began to plan class riots due to the lack of a teacher, the door to room opened and in walked Mr. Bradley followed closely by what seemed to be new student. The elusive new student, evidently female, wasn't visible from Brandon's vantage point as the guys in front of him got up and shamelessly wolf whistled. Wondering at what kind of skankily dressed whore had joined the ranks of their class today, Brandon craned to catch a glimpse at this new girl.
Brandon leaned back and rolled his eyes. He was sure he'd hear about her soon enough if she was worth this much of a ruckus. As he leaned down to pull out his textbook from his bag, suddently skinny jean clad legs came into view and he heard a soft Australian accent question him, "Is this seat taken?"
Popping his head up in surprise, he was surprsied to see to see a stranger, the new girl he figured, gesturing to the desk on his right. He nodded, and couldn't help but stare. She was not, after all, clad in makeup and revealing clothing. She wad dressed simply, a lavendar button down, jeans, and white converse. Contrasting with her shirt, dark brown curls framed her face and brought out her chocolate brown eyes. Damn it, she was kind of beautiful.
And for once the moronoic guys in the front had it right. This new girl had curves that he could trace with his eyes and lips the color of summer fruit. She was her in such close proximity, the rest of the hour was blur. He learned nothing about chapter 6, but knew that this new dark haired vixen was to be called Callie.
He walked out of the classroom and scolded huimself. Not only did he learn nothing for an entire hour, but he'd fallen victim to the prowess of physical beauty. What a hypocrite he was.
Brandon strolled to the gymnasium for his next class, and on the way he noticed the exotic Callie hanging of the arm of resident rebel and heartbreaker, Wyatt. How did Brandon even oercieve her as beautiful? Of course she was another airheaded female pushover.
He took out his ipod and put on his headphones, blocking out the awful world filled with dumb girls who were pretty but never special. He closed his eyes and sat on the gym bleachers, bobbing his head to the tune of Iron Maiden.

A/N: Not sure if I want to continue. Feedback? The good, bad, and ugly are fine, as long as you're not downright rude. Thanks for the read!