"Runt, listen up."

It's funny exactly what can be the one thing to ruin what would otherwise seem like another, boring yes, but ultimately still satisfactory summer day. I suppose report cards for those unlucky many who actually view these pieces of paper as a death sentence signed by the Grim Reaper himself, can be quite the kill joy. Grounding always can just zap the summer spirit right out of you. Hectic work hours, summer assignments, break-ups, make-ups, failed driving tests, failed lives, sunburns, third degree burns, allergies, near-fatal sickness oh the list can go on and on. But for me I suppose few of these negativities could rival having to endure the insipid droning of any given sibling on any given day.

Since birth I'm sure I was already labeled as the runt, never mind the second youngest was only four by the time I was studying the nutrient labels of my formulas in diapers. But that's the price I suppose for living in a family eleven small, and having to learn how to peacefully coexist with said other eight dominions of evil. Oh wait, that's too harsh isn't it? The number is probably around seven. Anyhow, back to the matter at hand. Here I was taking some time out of my busy vanquishing schedule on WoW to try and at least show my face to the walls of my house, that wasn't the attic (and yes my room is in the attic; be jealous). I was surprised that there wasn't a tone of disbelief in the man's tone of voice. The one who so lovingly addressed me was none other than enemy number one in my household, aforementioned second youngest Jasper Azari. As if you could get away with calling him that. I have of course, but in the long run, why waste the effort needed? It's summer. Which means my inactivity level skyrockets from 23.7 hours of the day, to the 24.3 that is in truth a complete rotation of Earth's axis as we travel around the sun.

So of course without raising my head, eyes still scanning the page of my ever-present book at hand (the novelization of Shakespeare's King Lear this time around), I merely retorted back equally to said minion.

"My ears are in working order so I have no choice but to listen to you, Jesse." I turn a page, quite satisfied with my answer. This exchange never grows old. And as if by clockwork, only seconds later I'm pulled up from the chaise I was lying on up to forced eye level with my brother. Perhaps I take the time to describe him at least?

Jasper, more commonly known as Jesse Arazi just celebrated his twenty-first birthday the beginning of this month. And true to his maturity level, I figured mentally he finally reached the ripe, adult age of twelve. The face scowling across from me was similar I sadly must admit, the family resemblance present in at least all nine of us, somehow. This brother had his hair, a slightly lighter shade of brown and perpetually curled as tight as a mattress coil, shoved under his usual striped, grey and white beanie. Askew it was slightly at an angle, with his dark eyes and thick eyebrows turned in towards each other as his distaste for me oozed subtlety. Going down Jesse's attempt at skater, at the age of twenty-one, look only reached attempt at best. Navy hoodie, Active logo printed across the front in white, pseudo-faded ink, pulled out ungraciously over his sad attempt at jean sagging. Top it off with shoes that somehow defy written law and stay on even though they have never even had the laces in any formation close to a knot and you get a picture of what I deal with. And he's only number one in this family of dimwads. But there I go being overly judgmental again.

I wish I can say, no wait never mind. His personality leaves a lot to be desired I can assure. Nasty temper, prone to fits of unbridled rage, and he still has a constant group of people to associate with ladies and gentleman! I always figured it's because they're all too busy loitering and rolling around on their boards on wheels to even have to hear Jesse's mouth for long. But back to the present shall we?

I felt the collars of my two shirts digging into the nape of my neck, his hands scrunched over the trademark red, sweater vest. And it's here I can say I have some common sense. I could say "Watch the vest", or I could want to not spend the rest of the day with a frozen steak plastered over my eye (And yes, my mother honestly adheres to that stupidity fostered by The Brady Bunch. Gotta love those 70's screwballs). So with this I narrowed my eyes at his reaction, silently cursing the fact I also have my height to play an accurate description for the "runt" card. It's hard to reach the floor when your six feet, two inch brother manages to lift your seven inch smaller self past the reach of your legs. But why worry about height now of all times? "Violence this early Volcom Vole? And here I thought your brain wasn't functional before noon."

As expected my first insult ran right over his head, his grip staying consistent as my face was brought closer to his. "Shut your mouth for once runt. All I want to know is where you hid them." I fought the urge to roll my eyes, his paranoia nothing new to me. When you're the youngest, I'm sure you're always the first one to be blamed if something goes missing correct? I kept my gaze steady, and deadpanned back, "The Vietnamese orphans you were trafficking? Sorry Customs called. Apparently it's illegal to stuff them in a basement-"

His grip tightened, nearly eliciting a cough on my part. "No you idiot! My mmeen." "I don't speak mumble." "Memoomhm!" "Maybe when you were in high school but I'm pretty sure Cow isn't offered anymore as a foreign language…" "MBEEMDHM!" I didn't even bother with a retort, just a raised eyebrow and a "What?" "God dammit why do you have to be so stupid?" With a grunt I fell back a few feet on the floor, thankful only for a second he just threw me down before I kept my confounded look, knowing it only bothered him more. "Well I can pretend I read minds and go for yours, but then again I like my mind to be kept from experiencing anymore stupidity than already is prevalent in this world so…"

His fists curled up, steps taken towards my body still acquainted with the floor. This time his voice was a hissed whisper, eyes slanted even more. As anyone who's lived with this jerk his whole life can vouch for, this is pretty much the last warning signs before an outburst is present. And ordinarily I would take care not to push him that much. This early anyways. But really, I had no clue what I could have possibly hid now.

"My freakin' weed. Where. Is. It?"

I actively tried hard to not face palm myself, knowing it would be a foolish move on my part. The equivalent to holding up anything in front of a bull ready to charge really. But come on! His bag of plants goes missing, and I'm the first one he goes to? Although his reluctance to say so originally now made sense. Alcohol and drugs are all but forbidden in the house, under my father's strict watch. And since I so am the picture of teen rebellion, I must certainly be hiding it somewhere.

"Wrong person Jesse." I took this time to get up, straightening out the wrinkled cotton that had become of my vest. Eyes scanned the floor as well, looking for the discarded book. I would hate to have lost my page after all this. Spying it over-turned to the right of Jesse I made my way over, and couldn't help but sigh in exasperation as his foot stomped down right on the spine. It was a new book too… "What is your problem? Go ask Ronny or someone. I'm sure he has to be taking something to act as stoned as he seems 24-7." "That's who I got it from runt."

My hand slapped on to my forehead, splayed over the brow. And people think they know what I have to deal with?

And as divine intervention often works, the door down the fall from the loft we currently were located opened up, eyes squinting at us. But more at Jesse. "Chill out man. It's barely ten in the morning." My brother, and also the fourth oldest Ronny's voice grogged out, the human sloth that was him certainly pulling the energy required to get out of his bed and address us two from somewhere. I didn't waste this opportunity however, and shoved over Jesse's leg as I grasped the damaged book and got up. "Bill here thinks I stashed his bag of wonders somewhere. Talk some sense into him Ted?" I muttered this on my way out, making the way down the stairs onto the ground floor. Ever since the start of last year it had only been Jesse, Ronny, and myself, and it probably only took about a week before the change to only revert everything back to how it's always been. If anything worse. All other siblings of mine have either moved out, gone to college, begun to live their lives…

I scoffed. Scratch that. Everyone else is just off doing their own thing. Save for the three eldest. They still manage to hang around enough to make it seem like they never left. This applying to the two oldest, and also twins, Donny and Danny. Really would prefer them both, the former especially, to just stop being here so much. Just the thought of Donny already brought my face into a scowl again. He and Jesse were in the same league in my opinion. Danny mindlessly listening to whatever his elder twin said, so he was just as bad. But the third oldest, I could live with.

"Your face is going to forget how to smile Noah. Then what are you going to impress her with?"

Not missing a beat I looked up at said sibling, third oldest and perhaps the only one I could comfortably tolerate and state is related to me. "I don't know… my brains? Dashing looks? Physical fitness? Online vanquishing skills? My pedantic wit?"

And as usual she let out a small laugh, hand instantly going to my hair. Smoothing down the perpetual cow lick that curtained my neck she gazed down at me, her hazel eyes flecked with the familiar brown of the family seeming to shine. But then again it was easy for me to make her amused. "Of course Noah. Why need a smile to warm her instantly inside when you can just poke fun at your mutual peers?" Inching my head away I straightened myself up next to her, hoping at least since the last few days I've seen her, the fact she was three inches taller would be null and void.

No such luck… "Hey to you too Remy." For her sake I allowed my frown to turn back up a few centimeters, although the evidence from my run-in with the idiots still present. "So tell me, I heard some interesting things up there." She draped an arm over my shoulder, leading me through the foyer to the left, up against the back wall to where the breakfast nook resided. I placed the book on the table, taking a seat in the closest chair. I let my eyes scan over the giant, bay window that lit up this area of the house, the wooden deck, patched up grass, and oak on the far side of the yard only a few of the landmarks that have been engraved in my mind since childhood. A time when everything was, not that I want to say different, but just not how it was now. It was certainly easier to shock everyone in this house then, to a point they didn't take it as a threat that their eight year old brother could complete the eldest's college level math work. But that was beside the point.

"So something about orphans and cows and a bag of wonder Noah?" She teased; always finding it amazing exactly what kind of insults the boy could come up with on the spot. Her voice snapped him out of whatever trip down memory lane he was taking, and she noted his smirk as she placed two bowls in front of themselves.

I reached over for the box of Count Chocula, the sugar and chocolate concentrated cereal enough to stop most health conscious nuts in their path. But of course, why would I humor their insanities and try to follow a nutritional lifestyle? Watching my bowl fill with what I consider my act of rebellion against healthy eating habits I shook my head. "Don't bother unless you want a play by play of what exactly I had to already go through with this morning." I gestured faintly to my fallen book, reaching for the milk packet as I poured it in. Eyeing the milk to cereal ratio I glanced briefly at her. "May I ask why you're here anyways? Or more rather where our parents are?"

Satisfied I began to dig into my cereal, although a bit curious to why no immediate response. "Remy?"

She looked dazed for a second, her eyes glazed over before blinking and snapping too attention. "Oh sorry." I eyed her, sensing already something had to have been up. But like I would ask for another's well-being. "You seem… out of it? By now I would have only been halfway I'm sure through a line by line diatribe against those 'lousy mudrackers ' back at the studio." I referred to my sister's current job as journalist in the local newspaper. She was working her way up to News Correspondent for television, somehow, and I would often have to sit through exactly who did what wrong, and why he/she/it had to go. Not that I minded. If it went long enough I was given time to think myself, as long as I habitually grunted in affirmation.

Rolling her eyes at my use of quotes she pushed the bowl back, yet a grin playing at her lips. "Don't tell me someone actually cares on the going-on's at my work?" "No," I shoveled in some more spoonfuls, "I just like normalcy. And right now you," I shook my milky spoon at her, "Are anything but." She should have known me of all people would have been perceptive enough to realize this, and true to my word she got up, taking her empty bowl and dumping it in the sink. I dropped my spoon back into my bowl, not amused. She leaned over on the counter, head propped up off her elbow. "Fine. Long story short, dad and mom aren't going to be here for about a week." I straightened up in my chair, and I'll admit a bit thrown at what was just said.

"What?"

"Our parents have left this house for about seven days…"

"Don't be sarcastic. It's not flattering for you."

She let forth a scowl of her own before returning back to her perpetual mask of complacency, used to by quips by now surely. "I honestly don't know myself why. They just called me, Danny, and… Donny over this next week to take extra watch of the house." She hesitated on the latter's name, and for good reason. If precious father asked Donny to self-serve his head on a silver platter, he would only ask if gold was preferred instead. The man, while twenty-eight was a grade-A suck up, and no surprisingly our father's favorite. He didn't even act like a kiss-up half the time. Just proclaiming to our father at age thirteen that he would follow in his footsteps as eventual owner and manager of our family's mechanical shop "Carablanca" (and yes that's the name. This is why you don't have Moroccan immigrants naming their own businesses), guaranteed his love for life. Not that I cared. Despite my obvious genius at an early age, when my father saw that my interests lied in anything but the family got tinkering shop, I pretty much lost out to the race of priority in his eyes. So Donny coming here could only mean he would force onto all of us his established rules to a T.

I pushed my bowl away, suddenly not hungry. "So Doggy Donny shall certainly make himself at home this upcoming week?" Remy walked back to the table, taking my bowl and disposing it in the same manner as her's. "That's where you're wrong actually. I managed to put in my two cents, and convinced him that surely you of all people were old enough to not be watched. It's not like you and Jesse are best buds," she and I both shuddered at what that would mean, "So the point that he might influence you to help organize a party is void." "You're telling me our parents, Armand and Giselle Arazi, have voluntarily left their house? And plan to stay away for a week? Without telling you or anyone here why?"

I got up, walking past Remy to the foyer again. If what she said was true, then my summer seemed to have brightened up once more. I took note of her nod, her grinning as she saw my joy level rising in that peculiar way of her's. "I mean Donny probably knows, but he is going to have to be in charge of dad's shop, so even then I doubt he'll bother to stick around here. I have to stay here of course, and thankfully the bedrooms here haven't really changed much since when we all crowded in here before…" She raised a hand to the back of her much lighter brown hair, nearly beige or light tan in color. She got her looks from our mother, as most of the girls in the family did.

I waved my hand back at her, already having the other hand on the door in the foyer. "All I need to know for now." She sighed, making her way back to me. "Out to celebrate this recent turn of events?" "Of course." "Bookstore?" "Is there any other way?" "You have money?" "Nope." With that she made her way to her purse still on the table near the stairs. "One of these days you're going to need to get a job." As the necessary funds were appropriated towards me I merely mock-tilted a hat towards her, door open already. "Find me a job that requires nothing more than letting my presence known once every hour then you have a worker. "

As I left the sounds upstairs seemed to rise once again. "And it seems like Bill and Ted are not in for an excellent adventure… so good luck." With that I shut the door, not feeling all that guilty. Remy could usually handle these things. She did seem more like our mom sometimes than the real thing did.

But why worry about such trivialities? Money in my pocket, me walking distance from quite a satisfactory bookstore, the promise of no strict and pointless commands of my father, passive and mildly nagging pleas of my mother, or constant sign of the Ding and Dong twins in the family, and I was satisfied. Of course as I made my uneventful walk down to the business district of Kingston, Ontario, I would be met with a lovely slap in the face from the universe. It loved me you know. Wasn't it obvious?

Although not that physically inclined I made my way to the line of shops in about my usual time of fifteen minutes, the green, metal sign of the bookstore hanging over the sidewalk like it faithfully has for years on end now. The show window crammed with bookshelves that were equally crammed with books, scattered chairs in the small store able to be seen here and there, the peeling paint of the store's name, Newton Bookery on the door… second home away. Yet of course, of course this sense of balance wasn't for long.

I heard her before I saw her, or more rather heard whatever racket was coming out of her headphones. And yes headphones. Someone didn't get the memo that we lived in the age of iPods apparently. Her eyes were shut I had to guess, for right as my hand reached for the door handle I found myself sprawling in, cursing that these doors pushed open. The bell tinkled, as if to introduce this particular scene. With a grunt I fell on my stomach, arms out and grasping the shag carpet that I was familiarly becoming acquainted with apparently. Annoyed I raised my head and twisted my neck back, trying to get a glance at the ballerina that let us both in.

Her music was still blasting off (seriously was that a Walkman?), ruining the comfortable silence that usually coexisted peacefully with the book patrons. The colors she was wearing clashed horribly with the muted décor of the building, serving fit to be as ostentatious as a parrot in England. And she let out a chuckle that seemed to echo in the room, only a chuckle mind you but still it seemed like it came from the deep pit of her belly. As if she really found this funny. I felt a vein twitch in my forehead, brow creased in frustration. And right when I was about to open my mouth and ask if she was aware of the city's "Obnoxious Before Noon" law she pulled herself off me, the weight off my back welcoming but still not enough to forgive this whole event.

And then, she had the nerve to lean down, hand offered in front of my face as I was able to gaze into her viridian eyes clearly for the first time.

"Hehe. Heyo Stranger." She cocked her head at me, expression slightly nervous, but more… what was that? Knowing? Anticipating?

I quirked my eyebrows up at her, frozen in place just as she was offering her hand. But slowly, I dropped my head first. Frowning at the carpet, I ignored her hand.

"Glad to see you treat all potential rapists and killers with respect then."

And then, she did exactly the opposite I expected from anyone, least of all her in this ridiculously short while I've been in contact with the girl. Uncomfortable silence most likely. Some stray mumblings on her part perhaps; even a snap back and that being the end of it.

But no.

She laughed.

I took her hand, and I still swear that I heard somehow, somewhere, the universe laughing along right at me.

Preview for Chapter Two:

"Somehow that explains so much…" "Oh shut up. You try dancing down a street in the morning and avoiding the dirty looks you're given as you head to a quiet bookstore, then we can talk." "Well you straddled me from behind after carefully entering said bookshop. I say we're intimate enough with each other to at least be able to talk about that." "… Oh shut up."