Chapter 1

Little Lana Lewis looked up at the intimidating house her parents had chosen as their dream home. She watched the movers carry her family's things into the LA home. Lana decidedly didn't like the house. It gave her the heebie-jeebies, and nothing good ever comes of the heebie-jeebies, as the 8-year-old well knew. However, she remained without complaint due to a hardy mix of bravery and a certain kind of rash boldness. Standing in the lawn, motion caught the corner of her eye. Looking over, she sees a pretty blond boy, obviously older than her, watching the commotion. Without a moment's hesitation, the dark-haired girl marched over to the pretty boy with curly blonde hair.

Upon reaching him, she shoves her hand out in front of her skinny body to greet him.

"Hi! I'm Lana Marie Lewis! What's your name?" she babbled exuberantly. The boy quietly looked at her hand like it was infected, before letting his eyes meet hers again. Lana's smile faltered and the little girl's hand fell limp by her side, before a new hope shined in her eyes. Her smile widened, and she boldly grabbed the boys hand.

"Come on! I'll show you something special!" she told him, pulling him to run behind the house with her. Lana was happy to realize that she felt no resistance from the boy. Behind the house, she slowed to a stop, the blonde boy slowing with her. Languidly, she walked around the yard, eyes trained to the ground, slowly pulling the boy along with her on her looping paths through the back yard. Her search didn't take long, her eyes lighting up when she found a dead butterfly. Releasing the boy's hand, she leans down in the grass to gingerly pick the poor dead thing up. Holding the butterfly in her small hands, she looks up at the boy and smiles.

"Look! See how it's dead?" she prods. The boy, for the first time, smiles at Lana.

"Yes, I do. Is that the special thing?" Lana scoffs, affronted at the boy's question.

"Of course not, watch!" she exclaims, gently shutting her hands around the insect. The boy, Lana happily noted, was watching her with mild curiosity. Bringing her cupped hands to her mouth, Lana blows a single puff of her breath into her hands before opening them to reveal a very much alive butterfly fluttering about. It lingers in her palm for a moment before flying off. Lana looks up to the boy she hopes will be her new friend.

"Aren't I special?" The smiles down at her before reaching down to grab one of her hands to pull her up.

"Yes, you are."

His name was Michael Langdon and he was 12 years old. Lana and Michael often played at her house, much to the dismay of his adoptive mother, Constance, but even the iron-willed southern belle couldn't keep the two apart. Lana liked when Michael came over, the house didn't scare her when he was around. And besides that, she enjoyed his company, even when he asked prying questions and tore up her toys. Like when he asked if she knew that she was adopted while cutting off her Barbie doll's hair.

Of course she knew, it didn't take but a few years to realize her pale and blonde-blue eyed parents looked different from her, so they told her when she started asking questions. They told her that her birth mother was Japanese. And she told Michael as much, before taking her Barbie away from him.

He was constantly bringing Lana dead animals, some that he had clearly killed himself. Lana liked to believe is was because he liked seeing her gift. And Michael got his own gift. Around when he turned 14, Michael discovered that he could move things with his mind.

So they became even closer. They were special together.

With Lana's gift, she cleaned up Michael's blood trail. With his, he kept racists and bullies from bothering her. Lana was happily Michael's and was even given the nickname "Laney" to show his possession of her. It was nothing romantic of course, they were simply the best of friends. They also both simply knew about the power dynamic they had. Michael was clearly both the brains and the brawn.

Lana knew Michael didn't need her friendship like she needed his, that he was simply rather fond of her. It didn't matter though. Nothing could separate them.