Andrielle DuPont was the younger of two sisters, born and raised in France, had beautiful blue eyes, a beautiful smile, and purple hair. It was completely natural, in fact her whole family was known for odd hair colors. She was also nine months pregnant. As she lay in the hospital bed, she mentally noted the lack of a man to hold her hand. The father of her child was… well, he and Andrielle had met one night at the bar and one thing had led to another. She never got his number to tell him he was a father. She thought it best to just forget about him, she wasn't the type to hold a grudge.

She had always been very artistic, bubbly, and happy. Her sister had been very left brained, but Andy was very right. No one could hate Andy, it was simply physically impossible. She was hardly ever sad; the only time she had ever really cried was six years previously, at the death of her sister. And so now, on September 30th, 1992, her doctor walked in and said it was time to push.

After much screaming and crying, with one great push, the child was born. The doctor picked him up and smacked him, and he began to cry, which is a good thing in this case. He had a face like his mothers, and a single, purple hair. "What will his name be?" The doctor asked. "Odd DuPont," she said, gasping. The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Pardon, did you say 'Odd'?" The woman nodded. "It's Norse. It means 'Tip of the Arrow'." The doctor shrugged and wrote the name down. "Well, baby Odd seems very healthy. A little scrawny though." Andy smirked and said "He's not scrawny, he's svelte."

After a few days, mother and son went home, to Andy's small apartment. She shared it with her best friend, Martha. "Oh, look at him, he's so cute!" She said, smiling. Andy smiled and nodded. "Oh, someone called earlier. Some man named Jeff," Martha added. The name rang a bell. "Jeff? Hmmm. I'll call him." She picked up the phone and dialed the number on the Caller ID. "Hello?" Andy took a deep breath. "Jeff? It's Andy. You remember me?" There was a pause. "Yeah, Andy, with the hair. Someone told me you were pregnant." Andy paused this time. "Yes. He has to be yours." There was some kind of half laugh-half scoff on the other end of the line. "I can't deal with this. I can't. You weren't supposed to be anything more than one night. Listen, Andy. I'll send you a check or something."

"I don't need a check! What I need is a father for my baby!" Andy said, in tears. "Well, you ain't gonna find one here, babe. Check's in the mail." There was a click and the line went dead. She sat on the couch and for the second time in her adult life, she cried.

A few days later, Andy received a check for $1,000. It was in American Dollars, not in francs. "Figures, he's American," Martha spat. Back to her old self, Andy said "Well, it's a lot of money, and that's always a good thing. I wouldn't care if it were Dollars or francs or Vietnamese dongs." "Vietnamese whats?" "Dongs, Martha, dongs. It's what they call their currency. At any rate, money is money."

That money, in dollars and not dongs, along with welfare checks, made sure that Odd grew up happily. As he grew, Andy was happy to see that her son was just as bubbly and artistic as she was. He loved to color, and Andy was happy to let him as long as it wasn't on the walls. ("If it was my house and not Martha's apartment, I would let you", she said.) He loved animals, too. When they went on walks in the park he would always chase after the ducks. And he even looked like his mother, except for his hair. It was blonde, with the exception of one purple splotch in the middle. Andy loved it, and she loved Odd. By the time Odd was two, mother and son were inseparable, and she saw no need for a father.

Martha, on the other hand, thought otherwise. So one day, she arranged for a friend of hers, recently back from a tour of duty in the French Army, to meet Andy on one of her walks in the park with Odd. So when Andy was sitting on a bench, her son chasing and feeding the ducks, a tall man with buzzed short brown hair and a strong, chiseled face sat down next to her, smiling. "He's cute," he said with a chuckle. Before she knew what she was saying, Andy replied "You too." She covered her mouth, blushing and giggling. "Thanks, ma'am." "Oh, it's Andrielle. Andrielle DuPont. Call me Andy." "Brock Della Robbia," the man replied. "Tell me, could you get a babysitter? I'd like to get to know you a little more." Andy chuckled. "I could call my friend…"

Martha, for some reason, was happier than usual to watch Odd. So Brock and Andy went to a Parisian café, while Martha drew pictures with Odd. They left around noon, and weren't back until 8. Andy opened the door, giggling as Brock blew her a kiss and walked away. She ran over to Odd and gave him a big hug. She then looked up at Martha and said "You set this up, didn't you?" She shrugged. "Well, it just so happened that Brock is a good friend of mine, and that he just happened to be single." "Well, thanks. He's wonderful… such a kind man, and strong. I think he could be a father to Odd, and he seems to like the idea."

And apparently Brock did like the idea, because a year later, on July 7th, 1995, Andrielle DuPont became Andrielle DuPont-Della Robbia. At his mother's request, Odd also took the last name Della Robbia. After Brock and Andy went on their honeymoon to Italy, the new family moved to Brock's house in Paris. Odd had a backyard to play in, and his own bedroom. He was promptly instructed by his mother to color on the walls. Brock looked like he was about to say something, but an elbow in the ribs took care of that.

Two years passed. Odd grew older, Brock and Andy grew closer. Odd never referred to his step-father as "Brock" but simply "Dad", as he had never actually met his father, and didn't really care to. Odd entered Kindergarten, and his teacher and classmates loved him and his antics. They were one happy family, until Brock received the news that he was being called out for duty again, a standard two-year tour of duty. Odd would go through first and second grade without a father.

The third time Andy cried was when a bus came to pick up Brock. His hair recently shaven, he walked outside in a uniform and beret and after giving his wife and son a hug and kiss, he boarded the bus. Like many soldiers before him, he watched from his window until he could no longer see them.

Odd was what one would call a "class clown", always making jokes, always doing something funny. And in art class, or music, he was always the star student. However, he wasn't too keen on learning about history, science wasn't fun unless the chemicals did cool things, and he was horrible in math. Overall, he managed to keep a C average. His mother didn't really mind, as long as he wasn't failing and he was happy.

And Odd was indeed very happy, especially one day in Second grade when Odd's teacher walked over and said "Someone's here to see you." She pointed to the door and there standing was Brock Della Robbia, with a huge grin on his face. He was still wearing his uniform, it was clear he hadn't even been home yet, it was Odd he went to see first. "Dad!" Odd cried, and ran over to him, hugging him tightly. Brock returned the favor and picked him up. "I hope you don't mind if I borrow Odd for the rest of the day, but I haven't seen him in two years. We've got a lot of catching up to do." The teacher, who was smiling, said "By all means, go. And he's lucky, he gets to miss math."

After a few hours of solid talking, mostly Odd, the family was all caught up. "The best news is that two years of shooting people gets great pay. I was talking with some buddies of mine on the ride home, and I think a private school would be a good thing for Odd. Better teachers, maybe he'll do better in math, and if it's a boarding school, we won't have to deal with him so much." He chuckled and ruffled Odd's hair. "I don't know about right now, but there's a very good school in that town you're from, Andy, for sixth grade and up. It's called Kadic Academy. The place costs a small fortune but it'll be worth it. With my military pay and whatever it is you do, we should have enough for full tutition by the time he's old enough." Andy nodded. "Great idea. Now who wants lunch?" Odd's eyes lit up. The one thing he loved more than coloring was food.

A few more years passed. Odd was now in fourth grade, and he was on a four year streak of C averages. He came home one day to find his mother and father in the room with some blonde guy, and none of them looked too happy. "What's going on?" Odd asked, setting his bag down. His mother said, trying but failing to sound normal, "Odd, this is Jeff Johannes. He's your real father." Odd looked blank, he didn't know how to react. Eventually, he said "And where have you been?" "That's what I said," mumbled Brock. Jeff spoke up. "Well… I just couldn't deal with being a father before… but you know, I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I came here to see if I could help. Maybe… be an uncle or something."

Odd paused. His normal happiness was replaced by an eerie seriousness. "No. You're not my father. You're some man who looks like me and knew my mother for one night. You haven't helped her, you haven't contacted her, and you barely know who she is. Now get out of her house. I have a father." Brock grinned, and Andy stood up. "Well, that settles it. Mr. Johannes, get out of this house. Maybe if you need help later I'll send you a check." Jeff's jaw dropped and he said a few expletives and left. "Odd, first thing, I have never loved you more. You are awesome. Secondly, if you ever say those words I will take away your crayons. Now come here and hug me. How was school?" In a single statement, Andy had completely changed the subject and somehow made it clear that Jeff was not to be brought up again. Odd ran over and did exactly that.

Odd finished that grade, and the next still holding on to his C streak. Secretly, Brock thought Odd could do better than that if he focused, but he never said anything, preferring to follow his wife's method. Honestly, in his and in his wife's opinion, Odd never did much wrong anyway. He was shaping up to be an artistic genius; they had once given a painting of his to a Children's art exhibit at the Louvre, and someone had actually offered to buy it. Odd preferred it stay in the museum. He also loved to use his dad's camcorder, making his first serious movie just before fifth grade. He was still no whiz at math though, and history still put him to sleep.

Fifth and Sixth grades were like any normal grade for Odd. He joked, he slept, and he painted. His teachers laughed at his jokes and frowned at his test scores. However, Odd made a friend that year that would stick with him for the rest of his life. He was walking home one day, snacking on some fruit he had saved from lunch when he heard a bark from behind him. There was a small dog following him; it looked like some kind of terrier. He had no collar, and he looked underfed. "Must be a stray," Odd mumbled with his mouth full. Ignoring the dog at first, he continued home, only to hear the pitter-patter of dog paws behind him. He turned around, patted the dog's head, and offered an apple. The dog refused. "All I have left is this," Odd said, offering the dog a kiwi. The dog yipped happily and took it, but still followed Odd home. "Well fine. I guess I'll take you home to mom."

"Oh, wonderful, wonderful!" Mom said happily, petting the dog. "Are you sure?" Brock asked, looking at him. "Yes. What's his name, Odd?" Odd thought. "Kiwi," he said. Andy shrugged, saying "I like it." From then on, Odd and Kiwi were the best of friends. Kiwi slept in one of Odd's drawers; they took walks every day together after school, and Kiwi even ate his math homework once. He even brought him to school on pet day. Odd liked Kiwi because he was funny, but not too smart, like Odd.

Odd finished sixth grade with a C, just like every other year. After his last day, his mother and father spoke to him. "Odd, you may not remember, but your mother and I have been saving up money for a long time for you to go to a boarding school. We think it'll be better for you, a better education. Maybe you'll get a B one of these days," Brock said with a chuckle. Andy glared. "What do you think?" She asked. "Can I take Kiwi with me?" Brock opened his mouth, but Andy spoke first. "Only if you don't get caught."

And so, on his first day of seventh grade, Odd had hid Kiwi in his duffel bag. He stepped off the bus and bumped into some guy wearing a red sweater. "My name's Jim. Welcome to Kadic."

You know the rest of the story.