Imagine a picture of David morphing a Golden Eagle

Cover Quote: Get ready, there's a brand new Animorph…

With great power, comes great responsibility...

CHAPTER 1

I'm David. Yea, it's a typical name for a boy my age; big whoop. I really could care less what you call me, if you want to know the truth. I've been called lots of things over the course of my life. It's gotten to a point where it doesn't bother me anymore. So if you want to call me David, alright. If you want to call me moron, that's fine too; I'll shrug it off like any other comment. You can call me jerk, geek, loser, or even hey you! Trust me, I won't bat an eyelash. I could really care less about someone else's opinion of me. I mean, is it really going to make the kids at school like me anymore if I say, 'Yea, I really am an idiot?" No. No it will not. I've learned that, in life, there are going to be a lot of people who don't like you. Call me a cynic; I don't care. I think of myself as a realist. People think in different ways.

You see, I move around a lot. And I mean a lot! I've lived in over a dozen homes in the last five years and in at least six different states in my entire life. You name it, I've lived there at some point: Chicago; Philadelphia, Florida, New York City, and even Alaska for a few months. My dad's in the Secret Service, and he gets stationed in different places every so often. It's sort of cool, I guess. I got to meet the President once when I was six. I've flown in jets and have ridden in limos and stuff like that. And my dad makes a lot of money, so I get a lot of presents for Christmas and birthdays. I have pets too. I have a cat named Megadeth, and a real live King Cobra named Spawn. You're really not supposed to have those, but my dad got me one. Sure, it had the poisonous sacs taken out, but it's still pretty freaking cool! I mean, how many kids do you know with a live cobra living in their room? Not many, I bet.

So yea, I move around a lot. So I guess you can't blame me for not wetting myself with excitement when it came to moving into yet another small town. Sure, it looked nicer than most places I've lived in—there was this one place in Philly that looked like New York City during the night time—but so what? Just because a place looks nice, doesn't mean the people living there are all sweet and friendly. Trust me; I've been to a lot of places, so I've met quite a few assholes in my lifetime.

Oh, that's another thing you may want to know about me; I swear an awful lot. Then again, a lot of people my age do. I'm just not the type of person who goes out of the way to avoid swearing just to be polite. Even in my assignments at school I can't seem to stop myself from letting a swear word slip into the paragraph. I wrote this one paper on the Catcher in the Rye, and my teacher told me that I reminded him a lot of Holden Caulfield. But he didn't mean it as a compliment. Then again, I doubt if one can think of a comparison like that as a compliment. Holden wasn't really an easy kid to get along with. He was very opinionated.

So there I was, riding in the back seat of my dad's convertible, staring blankly out the window at another nameless town. My cat was in the crate next to me, and Spawn was being kept in the trunk. My mom doesn't like Spawn. Snakes make my mother nervous. She nearly killed my dad after he got me the snake for my birthday. I like a lot of cool and unusual things; which is why I named my pets Megadeth and Spawn. A lot of kids I know thing I'm bragging whenever I talk about Spawn. But I couldn't care less what they think. A cobra is freaking cool, no matter who you are.

My dad kept talking about how this was definitely the last time we'd be moving like this; which was a huge lie. I was five when he said that the first time. The last time he said it had been when we moved to New York, and that lasted about three months before he was shipped to another place I could care less about. And now he was going on and on about how nice the house was, and how many great programs the school had to offer. And he was berating me about making friends, and how I had a fresh new start.

"You can be anyone you want to be, David." My Dad said, grinning from the driver's seat. "Nobody knows you here. You don't have to worry about people passing judgement on you."

The entire time I was mouthing his exact words. Like I said, I move around a lot, so I've heard this speech before. Dad's not always an easy going guy, but he's alright most times. My mom, on the other hand, is a handful. She always makes a big deal whenever my dad and I try to have fun; like when we went hunting that one winter before Christmas break. It was hunting season, and we had a hunting license, and she still made an issue of the whole thing. And she was always criticising me, like when I name my pets.

"You might want to try to avoid sounding like you're bragging about things," my mother added. She said it lightly, as if she might have been joking. But it still sounded condescending either way.

"I don't brag about everything." I snapped. "People ask me about myself and I tell them. How is that at all bragging?"

"Well, honey," my mother said. "People might take it as bragging. If you talk about your snake and your father's job…"

"Which you aren't supposed to be bringing up, by the way." My father added.

"All I'm saying, David," my mother sighed. "Is that you have to make an effort if you want to fit in."

"What was that, David?" My father asked. I had been mumbling.

"I said, 'I wouldn't have to make an effort if we weren't moving around all the time." I said, louder this time.

"Like that's my fault." My father muttered. "The only reason you have a snake, or a cat, or a pool or anything that other kids your age is because of my job."

"Stan, stop yelling." My mother said. "He's only a foot away from you."

"Hey, I'm not yelling." My father said. "He's making it sound as if it's my fault that we're moving so much."

"Well, your job does have a lot to do with that." My mother replied.

"And now you're going to start with me?"

And blah, blah blah! They kept going back and forth like that for some time. I've learned to just tune them out when my parents start going at it; loose cannons that they are. It' weird though; they have such short tempers, but they never actually yell at each other. Instead, my parents exchange condescending remarks in the guise of jokes. I don't know if that's healthy for the marriage. I try to ignore them.

"We should be pretty close now," my mother said, after a moment's silence.

"Should be another couple of blocks." My father said. "You're going to love the house, Dave."

"I've seen it before, Dad." I mumbled.

"What was that? You were mumbling."

I rolled my eyes and repeated my sentence; only much louder.

"Yes, but imagine all our stuff in this place!" he said, excitedly. "This is definitely the last time will be moving. Trust me Dave; we're going to have a lot of memories in this place."

I decided that I shouldn't bother to comment. My dad was in too much of a good mood anyway. So I just kept my opinions to myself.

We pulled up into the driveway of an admittedly stunning house. Even from the outside it looks pretty great, but I'm not one for description. You'll just have to take my word for it when I say that it was a nice house.

Don't get too hung up on this house, David, I told myself. You guys will be moving to another house in a few months; if not a year!

"Like I said, David." My dad said. "This is a new town. You can be anyone you want to be."