Standard Disclaimer: I do not own The Ducks. Duh. If I did, I would not be writing really bad fanfiction or shopping at Kohl's or driving a car that dates back to the Bush Administration.

Author's Note: Umm...sorry I still haven't quite finished Not What Could Have Been. I keep wanting to give it a really good ending, and so far, all of my attempts at writing an ending keep falling flat. So I guess if you're one of the handful of people reading it, just imagine an ending that makes you happy, and go with that! I'm sure I'll come up with a suitable ending eventually. Or not. Honestly, whatever y'all imagine in your minds is probably going to be better than any ending I can write.

As for this one, the updates may be a little slow, because I'm very much writing this one in real time, and I like to stay several chapters ahead just to make sure I don't totally change my mind about where I want the story to go. So be patient. Pretty please.

Prologue

As she passed block after block of houses on her way to the Banks' house, she found herself growing more nervous at the thought of finally seeing where Adam lived. She was making the one mile walk over there so they could study for their upcoming chemistry test, and for the first half mile, she hadn't really been too concerned. The houses she was passing were perfectly nice, but they all pretty much looked like her house back in Maine.

I'm sure the only reason everyone makes fun of him for being a rich kid is because he's the one who's nice stuff is here. Kenny's dad is a doctor, and Dwayne's parents have a nice ranch back in Texas, and my dad's an engineer. The only difference is that we aren't from here. Jesse and all of those guys didn't have to be jealous of our Christmas presents growing up. Also, we don't have his weakness for Ralph Lauren. That's probably 90% of the issue right there! I'm sure he actually lives in a perfectly normal house, and has a super normal family."

However, as she was getting closer, the houses were slowly starting to get nicer.

Surely his house isn't one of the super fancy ones. Besides, these houses kind of look like Kate's house back home, and even though Kate's house looks really fancy on the outside, it's still a normal house. Her parents are still normal people with normal jobs who do normal things. They bought their furniture at Bargain Bonanza just like my parents….

Okay, this is the street. Dang it. These are not looking like normal houses. These are not looking like people who shop at Bargain Bonanza. Please God, let his mom shop at Bargain Bonanza. Let there be silk flowers and bad attempts at sponge painting and country blue wallpaper with geese on it. That is the least you can do for me, Lord. That is the least you can do for the world. Because really, it's unfair enough that he's absurdly good at everything, and that the puberty fairy decided to turn him into a Calvin Klein model overnight. It is only fair that he at least have to live with half finished sponge painting attempts. I mean, ideally to help level the playing field, his parents should be the most embarrassing people ever, and maybe volunteer as mimes or something in their free time, but I know that's probably asking too much. Besides, I'm sure I would have heard about it by now if his parents were mimes. But some fake cacti or something? That's a perfectly reasonable thing for me to ask!

She glanced back down at the piece of paper with his address on one last time to double check that she had the right house before going up to ring the doorbell.

Please God. Bargain Bonanza.

"Julie!"

NOOOOOO! I said Bargain Bonanza, God. Bargain. Bonanza. Not "giant marble staircase and super fancy table with a flower arrangement on it that's bigger than I am". Also, did you send the puberty fairy back AGAIN?! Because I swear, he's filling out that blue and white striped button down waaaay too well. Can't we go back to hand me downs that are a couple of sizes too big? Maybe throw in a touch of acne or something? You know, anything to bring him back to the world of mere mortals, because right now, he's looking like the king of Planet Sex God, and that is not boding well for my ability to focus on chemistry.

.

Meanwhile, Julie was not the only one who had suddenly become concerned about the size of the Banks' house.

"Dang it", Adam thought as soon as caught the look on Julie's face, "I knew my house was awkward. I should not have invited her over here. I should never ever invite girls over here. Not that that exactly comes up a lot, what with the sea of girls I've got flocking around me. Still, I sort of thought maaaybe I had a chance. Nope. Not anymore. I'm never listening to your girl advice ever again, Reid Larson. There's a reason you've had as many girlfriends as I have, and it's not just because you peed your pants onstage during the seventh grade choir concert.

Though to be fair, that probably didn't help matters."

"Oh my goodness Adam, you are definitely going to have to give me a tour of this!" Julie said laughing.

"It's kind of ridiculous, isn't it? I'm really sorry!"

"What? No, it's amazing! I'm definitely a teensy bit jealous!"

"What? Don't be! It's so embarrassing! Plus, it comes included with my parents, and that's the worst!"

Why did I say that? She's going to think I'm a horrible person who hates my parents. Which, okay, yeah, sometimes, but that's not exactly something to advertise. Nobody likes a guy who hates his parents…or I mean, I guess some girls are probably into that, but if they are, they're into like, those really deep, brooding guys like Fulton or something.

Wait, is she into that?

I don't think so. I think she's probably into nice, well-adjusted guys who have nice, happy families. And besides, I'm not very good at being deep and brooding. I can't play the guitar or paint or any of that deep brooding stuff. Plus, I think those guys are supposed to have tattoos or something, and I'm really scared of needles. Too bad she's not into awkward losers who're scared of needles, because then I'd be such a catch! I'd be her dream man. I'd be every lady's dream man. Scott would be coming to me for advice about girls, and I'd just have to be like "Don't worry man. All you need is a crippling case of anxiety and a complete lack of social skills. Just like, practice only talking about hockey or something…you'll totally get the hang of it eventually!"

"And this is the study…..and this is the home theatre room…and this my bedroom…"the tour continued as they made their way upstairs.

Oh my gosh. I did not mean to say that. She's definitely going to think I'm a pervert now. Like, I mean, I know everyone has a bedroom and all, but still. She's probably going to think I said that because I want us to go in there and have sex. Which, okay, yeah, I would really, really like that, but that is definitely not what I meant!

As soon as he said that, Julie noticed that he turned bright red, and she was relieved to realize that the puberty fairy had not taken away all of his awkwardness. He might have gotten taller and hotter, but he was still very much the same Adam.

"Oh come on now, you can't just point to where your bedroom door is without actually showing me your bedroom! You're the worst house tour giver ever!"

Okay man, this could be a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, she didn't run away screaming at the mention of a bedroom, so that's a good sign that she doesn't think you're a horrible pervert! On the other hand, did you remember to put your underwear in the hamper this morning?

Also, Mr. Fluffy.

Oh no, not Mr. Fluffy!

Please let Mr. Fluffy have fallen under the bed last night. Please please please please.

God, why I am the only guy on the planet over the age of five who still sleeps with a stuffed manatee? And why did I name him Mr. Fluffy? Manatees aren't even fluffy…

"Umm…you really don't want to see it. It's a total mess!"

"Come on now, I have three brothers! Literally nothing would surprise me!"

"Okay, but you don't get to judge"

Please don't let there be underwear or Mr. Fluffy….

.

As the door opened, Julie found herself shocked. It was nice. Very nice. The kind of nice that belongs in magazines about rich people.

But it wasn't what she expected. There weren't any signs of Adam. Absolutely nothing about the room looked like it belonged to a teenage boy. Instead, it was all oriental rugs and fancy oil paintings of fox hunts. He had a pair of sneakers lying in the floor, and a small silver picture frame on his mahogany desk, and what appeared to be a very worn stuffed manatee sitting on the bed, but that was it. Those were the only signs that the room belonged to an actual person. She thought back to the magazine cutouts and pictures of her friends and old Field Day ribbons that lined the walls of her bedroom back home, and she felt a twinge of sadness. Where were the hockey posters? The gross posters of bikini clad women standing next to sports cars? The ubiquitous surf magazines that appeared to be required reading for all landlocked teenage boys? The stolen street signs that her brothers always seemed to end up with?

For that matter, where were those things in the rest of the house? Every room had been so opulent that she hadn't immediately noticed the things that weren't there—the awkward class photos featuring lopsided haircuts and toothless smiles, the Mother's Day gifts made from glue and popsicle sticks in kindergarten, the weird vase from someone's well meaning grandmother. It was like the whole house had been scrubbed of its occupants, and suddenly she found herself longing for the sunny, sponge painted walls and bad elementary school macaroni art at her parents' house back in Bangor.

"So, this is your version of a mess, huh? Remind me to never let you see my room!"

"I, uh, guess the cleaning lady came today. I promise it wasn't this clean earlier."

"Liar!" She laughed, playfully hitting his arm, "You just didn't want me to know that you have the world's cleanest bedroom."

"Darn, you've got me. Don't let it get out, or you'll ruin my street cred."

"Don't worry, I'll never let on that you aren't actually as gangster as you look."

"Okay, good, because I really think I'm starting to get the gangster thing down!"

"Oh yeah, homie, the khakis scream 'thug life'."

…