Ch2: Foreign Habitat

Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews for the first chapter; they're greatly appreciated. There were also some complaints about my writing being a little hard to understand so I hope this clears a few things up.

"Dylan, can you pass me that box-cutter?" I asked, irritably. I was feeling restless and uncomfortable ever since we had come to Arizona. Here, it was hotter, people spoke their minds, and apparently wore less clothing. Yeah, and I had a feeling that I was going to have a bit of trouble fitting in, not that I was expecting anything else. I was a freak, nothing more or less.

Dylan handed me the tool and began the normally swift process of opening boxes, but today I seemed to be having problems and the sharp end nicked the inside of my palm. I muttered curses.

Dylan looked up from his work with arranging our loft, first by discovering the contents of each box. "Max, you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little stressed." His eyes slowly made their way back down to the package he was fumbling with. I watched him for a moment, and he seemed to notice my eyes on him, looking back up at me. "Hey, so what do you feel about this whole school thing? I mean, you're so calm about it."

"Hmm," he pondered for a second. "I mean, the way I see it why should I have to worry?"

I didn't understand his logic. "Why shouldn't you worry? There are so many people that you haven't met before and we're not the most experienced in interacting with people…"

"I figure we'll fit in where we need to. You shouldn't get so worked up about it," he says nonchalantly, pulling old pictures from the box that Don suggested we hang to make the bare walls seem more "homely". He sets it into a pile of decorations. "After all, it's nothing like TV."

"Jeez, I know that," I drawl, but can't help getting excited. I open my navy suitcase, to see just what Don has gotten for me to wear. The first article of clothing is a button-up burgundy shirt, the second is a polo burgundy shirt, and the third is a rough wool burgundy sweater. I am seeing a pattern here. I push back all of the burgundy clothes to see underwear, bras, socks. Deep under that are more white polo's, button-ups and under that there are an overload of chinos and cargo khakis.

"What the he…"? Something was certainly wrong here. Did he really expect me to wear this?

Dylan looks up once more. "What's up?"

"Look at my clothes. I feel like I'm going to a private school with all these matching colors," I said to no one in particular. So this is what going to an actual school is like. You get uniforms, all matching the other students, and you get rules. I skimmed the code of conduct. All skirts must meet the knee, no flashy accessories, no tight clothing… I smirked. That wasn't too bad to follow.

I threw the assortment of clothes, no pun intended, back into the suitcase. "Dyl is it just me, or are your clothes as drab as mine?"

He unzips his case, and peers inside, pulling out clothes similar to mine and his dress code. He shakes his head. "Nope, and apparently, I can't sag my pants…"

"I never dreamed the day you would," I joked, finally starting to work instead of dilly-dallying while Dylan did the rest. I folded the clothes and put them into their respective drawers without breaking a sweat, managing to line up our shoes next to the exit. Dylan called me back into the room.

"Help me decorate?" He says without looking up from the pile of stuff that we were supposed to decorate with. I nodded, grabbing a few frames and electronics. I hung up a few of the pictures around the place, one in the kitchen, one in the bathroom, one my bedroom and I finally returned to his with the last picture. I set it down on his dresser, facing his mattress.

"And for that alarm clock…" I murmured to myself. I placed it in my room, remembering how lazy he is in the mornings.

I returned to where Dylan was sitting in the family room, noticing that he was finished. The room looked as if someone had lived there for years. I pat him on the back, as if to say 'good job'. "What now?"

He looked around, wondering if there was something else we had forgotten to do, but I knew there was not. If you looked inside of each cabinet, each nook and cranny, it would have something in it that showed we were normal people. That is, I soon realized, except the Fridge and our closets. The fridge was bare except for the snacks we had brought in our carrions and our closets were full of uniforms with no trace of normal clothing.

Dylan noticed me thinking, exactly as I got an idea. He knitted his eyebrows, only beginning to understand what I thought. Finally, he sighed, a sign of submission to me. "What are you thinking?"

"Well…" I started off. "I was thinking that with all the money that Jeb gave us, it wouldn't hurt to cash a little of it. We do need food to eat afterschool, and regular clothes to wear outside and to bed…"

"Do you think we should really be spending that money?"

"Well, he gave it to us so why shouldn't we? Don't you remember what he said…"?

"Take this money," he said, stuffing the wads of cash into our pockets and carrion bags. "Use this whenever you need it whether it is for food or clothes or if you want to just go to a movie. I won't be with you all the time because I have some important business to attend to here, so I'm trusting you with a huge responsibility here."

Dylan scratched his head in confusion, stuffing the money into his new leather wallet. "Just how long are we going to be staying here?"

"A few weeks…" he trailed off, his voice lowering to a scarce whisper. "…maybe a year."

"A whole year?" I exclaimed. "We did not agree to that."

"Don't worry about it, Maxie. Money is no object. If you need, I'll send you a thousand dollars next month, every month from now on. So don't worry about something being too expensive for you to get? Got it?"

I gulped as we nodded our heads simultaneously. "Good."

"…about the money?"

"Yeah," he said, scratching his head. "…let's make it quick. It's way too hot here to be out too long anyways," he said, already our room keys.

We arrived at the store a few minutes later by following the intersections on a map that we had been given earlier this morning. Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead, not from tiredness, but from the massive heat. What amazed me even more was that as soon as we stepped inside the store, the temperature dropped at least fifteen degrees and the perspiration on my neck vanished almost immediately. The wonders of the modern world. Maybe we could stay awhile.

I glanced up. The building seemed to be made up of several rooms; each one selling something completely different from the other with small stands dotted in-between selling jewelry or mobile phones. We sampled all of these, and not wanting to bore ourselves with the details of our shopping trip. What we found much more interesting, was the grocery store.

I pushed the metal, grey shopping cart down the narrow isles as Dylan picked things that we should buy. So far, it consisted of cheap produce and bread. I pick up the loaf, examining its quality in my hands. I'd had enough of his penny pinching. "Don't you think we could ease up with the cheapness? I say that as long as the cash is flowing, we should live it up."

"I guess." He reluctantly let me remove everything from the cart, replacing it with nicer looking items and canned fruit. Dylan watched me carefully, as if this were a life lesson. In fact, it was.

His eyes widened as something caught his eye in the freezer section. He slid open the glass door and pulled out a small, plastic package. He frowned a second, calling out to me about a package that needed to be put into a microwave for a maximum of three minutes. "Max, what's a mi-cro-wave?"

Wheeling the cart to his side, I sneak a glance at the package. "I… don't know."

"Do you think we need one to make this?"

"Yeah, I think we do," I reply, smiling. This was going to be the first of our many adventures on the outside, in civilization. And I was actually looking forward to it, but for now I think we may need to head to another store to find the first of many modern wonders… the microwave.