Hey, it's me, your handy-dandy FanFic writer! I just realized that I haven't done any disclaimers yet, so to make this one more interesting, I'm doing it in Pig Latin.
Abby-gay Oes-day Ot-nay Own-ay Eter-pay An-pay, ut-bay e-shay ishes-way at-thay e-shay id-day!
"This is where we're staying?" Wendalynn said disbelievingly. The boy nodded.
"I really don't know what you expected," John added unhelpfully. "He did try to rob our house."
That was not what Wendalynn needed to hear right now. She had expected something adventurous, but an alley? That was too far. She was starting to consider going back home, to a nice, warm bed and French toast in the morning as opposed to the hard, cold concrete floor with a threadbare blanket and nothing but hunger until lunchtime.
"I like this. It's like an adventure, The Swiss Family Robinson or something." Michael said cheerily, eyeing the small makeshift camp with excitement.
Wendalynn had hated that book. Too nitty and gritty. Now, she was living. Why, oh why did she come up with this?
"Wait a second," she said, turning to the boy. "What's your name, anyway?"
He clenched his teeth. He was obviously not happy with this arrangement. Quite frankly, she wasn't either, but she wasn't about to let him know that.
"Shep." He said finally, sitting down next to the fire where six other kids sat sleeping. Who were they, anyway?
"Shep?" she scoffed. "You sound like a gang leader."
"Technically, I am a gang leader," he pointed out.
"Not a violent one." She paused, thinking. "You know what? I"m going to call you Peter. You look like a Peter."
Peter glared.
"What's your name, Miss I'm-too-perfect-to-call-people-by-their-names?" he said finally, poking the wood of the fire with a rusty curtain rod he had found abandoned in the corner of the alley.
She stood up a little taller. "Wendalynn Dear," she recited confidently.
Now it was Peter's turn to scoff.
"You sound like the rich snob that you are," he commented. "If you're calling me Peter, then I'm calling you Wendy."
She was flabbergasted. How dare he, to just treat her like, like-
"I let you go! You owe me!" she said indignantly.
"I let you come! You owe me!" he mimicked irritably.
Suddenly, Michael spoke up. "I'm Michael," he said confidently, sicking out his hand for Peter to shake. Peter smiled cautiously.
"Well, hello, Michael." he said, sounding surprised that he had spoken.
"But you can call me Mike," Michael added. Peter shook his head.
"No, I like Michael better. Who's your brother?"
"I'm John," John said stiffly.
"You're as uptight as your sister," Peter commented. "Is there something wrong with my humble abode?"
Apparently, now Peter as feeling cocky. Wendalynn was flustered, angry and tired. She did not need this right now.
"Just tell me where to sleep," she said. Peter cocked his head to the side, gesturing to the corner furthest from the fire.
"But that'll be cold," John protested.
"No other place to go," Peter responded off-handedly, already crawling under his own blanket.
Wendalynn sighed, then retreated toward the corner Peter had gestured to, John and Michael close behind.
"i hate this," she muttered under her breath, crabby.
"Yeah, me too." Peter replied good-naturedly from his place near the fire.
Ignoring this last comment, she burrowed into the threadbare blanket, and fell into the warm thickness of sleep.
Okay, it wasn't one of my best chapters, but it was kind of a filler. Fun in the next chapter, though!