A/N: Well, I’d just like to say a few things… if you’re one of those especially nice writers who reads something that their reviewers have written just to be nice, PLEASE don’t look at any of my other work, it’s from a long time ago when I was much, much worse than I am now. Also: I don’t own Desperate Housewives or the stars, I’m simply having my characters toss their names around to give a point of reference to what they think of as the suburbs. Lastly, this chapter is a little short because there’s only interaction between two of the eight characters.

Chapter One: My Own Suburban Freak Show

Well, I’m pretty much new to the whole normal, nice-neighborhood suburbs thing. Being a military kid for so long takes its toll, all right: you get used to places that are richer in culture than good schools and PTA meetings and have better reputations than that of Desperate Housewives Central. If my dad wanted us to have a normal childhood, he’s seventeen years too late. So he’s retiring. We’re here, standing in front of a house that has light grey vinyl and a stonewash door on the outside. It’s hopeless. I’m going to die.

Not only am I stuck in the middle of the worst possible nightmare imaginable, but apparently everyone here is colorblind. From the looks of the adults who’ve been stopping by with casseroles like clockwork, the houses aren’t the only thing in need of a good dousing of shading. I have deducted that either black business suits and white linen shirts are the only clothing items available in the women’s section of all of the shopping malls in a 50-mile radius, or the housewives here are the freak of nature variety that care more about their jobs than about the kids that they’re realizing way too late it was a mistake to have. Oh, my, I’m being pessimistic again… it’s a shame, because I’m not even good at being pessimistic. Really. I just… it comes out in me sometimes, all right?

In truth, I’m really a nice person when you get past the claws. Oh, but the fur is pretty much there to stay… just kidding. When you’re saddled with such a poor sense of humor, you can’t help but look at life through somewhat grey lenses. All of that rose-colored nonsense… well, let’s just say it doesn’t get you very far, especially when you’re looking at members of the opposite sex. I believe that now would be the correct point in time to insert a far-off look or a sigh verging on tears into my thoughtful little narrative, but I have no experience in this, so I have nothing to cry over. I do, however, watch television, and between The O.C., Smallville, One Tree Hill, and Gilmore Girls (I’ve gone through a wealth of bad TV shows, but this bunch is my guilty pleasure and legitimately well-written first pick group), I can see that the curse was not in casting Adam and Eve out of the garden but sticking them together in there in the first place.

By the way, not that you care, the “we” that I was referring to would be my brother, Tom. Well, everyone else calls him Thomas, but that’s just because I’ve had seventeen years to wear him down and they only get an average of two or three years. Don’t ask me why, but awhile ago we developed this ritual of meeting outside of our house after all of the moving trucks, cars, jeeps, etcetera are gone, simply because the best way to study something is when it’s in its natural, undisturbed environment. It escapes me how we came up with that exact phrasing… we’ve had awhile to think about it, though.

“Do you think that we’ll like it here?” he asks me, looking straight at me with those golden-brown eyes of his. It makes sense that he asks if we will like it here instead of me or him; we’ve been best friends since… well, forever, I guess.

“I think,” I answer slowly, “That we’ll learn something here. I doubt, however, that there is anything here that can hold my interest for more than a few seconds. This doesn’t begin to compare to the farm country of Iowa, or the rich scenery of Austria, and it certainly doesn’t hold a candle to Africa or North Korea.” He smiles and shakes his head.

“You make it sound so hopeless. Of course those places were exciting, everyone told us that abnormal and uprooted was exciting and wonderful and enriching, and the only thing worth our time. This, though,” he motions, “is the most adrenaline-pumping of all. We’ll spend time with people our age who have a chance to flourish in an environment untainted by anything disturbing that doesn’t come through the tube. You’ve always said that you’ve wanted the chance to be the wild one that shakes things up. Go for it.”

It makes sense that he would ruin my bad mood. He always does that to me, and I should be used to it by now. I feel myself slowly relinquishing my death-grip on the negative outlook I’ve been toting around, and even though I fight it a slow smile works its way onto my face.

“So… we’re going to enjoy it then?” I inquire, leaning my head on his shoulder, watching him transform back into the brooding, unapproachable lug that most people see him as.

“Well, I would’ve preferred Eva Longoria and Teri Hatcher, but this’ll have to do. I seriously don’t understand why every single lawn on this street has the exact same landscaping, though,” he comments, and I laugh, knowing somehow that things are going to be okay for us.

“Kids, it’s time to get ready for the day! Your father’s sorted out everyone’s boxes, and I think it’s a good idea if you unpack. School starts in four days, if you remember.” Haley cringed at the sound of her mother’s voice and Thomas shot her a sympathetic glance.

“Hey, look at it this way: you’ve done this so many times that within two or three more moves, you’ll be able to do it with your eyes closed, or maybe even in your sleep.”

“Just what I always aspired to do,” she muttered, throwing her napkin on the table, her irritation apparent. Her mother chose that moment to stride into the room in all of her glory.

“Now Thomas, I know that you said that you’re not interested in any extracurricular activities, but I took the license of checking out the school’s websites, and I think that you’ll be happy to find that this school has an even broader range of activities than your last one.”

“Mom? I think that the Yukon had a wider range of activities, and I don’t mean just scholastic or extracurricular, than our last school did. I don’t have any complaints about the people, but making the jump from Iowa to here isn’t exactly going to be easy.” The look on their mother’s face was all the warning they received before her amusing little monologue began.

“You guys know that change and transition is a part of life. You can’t let your discomfort rule your life. Haley, I don’t see why this is so hard on you. You’ve always been able to make any friends that you like.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, mom, it’s not making friends that’s the hard part. It’s keeping friends. By the way, did you finally copy your post moving-day speech down on note cards? If you did, then I definitely want a copy for my scrapbook.”

“As a matter of fact, I’d be happy to hand you the original notes as soon as you stop needing a pep talk every time that life doesn’t go your way.”

“All right, you know what Haley? I saw this really great music store in town, so how about we go there and cool off and…” Thomas was interrupted by his sister, too wound up to really pay attention to anything he said.

“Tom, forget about it. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be locked in my room unpacking all day, remember? You’re right, though: after this move, I think I’ll be ready to enter the Olympics in everyone’s favorite category.” It was a shame that Haley’s dramatic exit would only be viewed by two sets of eyes, because it was worthy of a scene in a movie.

“I certainly hope that you aren’t taking this as badly as your sister. Really, we give the girl exactly what she wants and she throws it back in our face and makes our house a living soap opera. There’s enough of that in those shows that she watches. Why on earth does she feel the need to recreate it here?”

“Well, Haley is probably suffering from an acute inability to relate to her peers and feels the need to lash out at the perceived source of the problem, not taking the time to reflect inwardly and focus on fixing her problems herself.” After a moment of silence, his mother shook her head and filled up the nearest bowl with the cereal she’d been eyeing during the whole of the conversation.

“Thomas, those type of smart remarks aren’t any better than your sister’s over-dramatics. I honestly don’t know where your father and I went wrong. You were such nice children.” She paused a moment and shook her head dramatically, tapping her finger excruciatingly slowly on the counter where she was standing. Thomas marveled at just how much like his sister she really was.

“Now, what’s all of this about my nice children? You obviously don’t remember the time when they were seven and Thomas cut off half of Haley’s hair and she drew all over his face in permanent black ink as payback.” Thomas watched as his parents kissed, frowning deeply.

“I know that your father and I aren’t exactly cool, but you don’t have to send us death rays at the table. Now, I need you to mow the lawn today and then I want you to go grocery shopping. I would ask your sister, but it’s obvious that right now her talents start and end with holing herself up alone in a room filled with unpacked boxes.”

“Is she taking it really hard? I think that I’ll go talk to her a little later on,” her father suggested.

“No, that’s the last thing that she needs. Really, Miles, the way that you coddle that girl is incorrigible, not to mention unhealthy. Eventually she’s going to have to grow up, and I’d rather deal with it now than over the summer.”

“Thomas, what do you say?” he looked up, surprised that he was being asked to take part in this conversation.

“I think that maybe what Haley needs is just a little time. Once she meets some people, gets back into her own skin, she’ll be fine.”

“Oh, that reminds me, one of the neighbors said that they’re throwing a block party tomorrow, and we’re all invited, which means that you and Haley will meet some kids your age. I understand that there are two very nice girls your age and a couple of boys, and I’m sure that Haley will be in her element here.” Simply shaking his head, Thomas got up and started towards the kitchen door.

“I’ll go talk to her… she’s not quite as likely to punch me.”

“What is it that you want? Is the music too loud? Did I leave a box downstairs? Did I forget to clean up the nonexistent breakfast I was planning on having before the Lock Ness monster stole my appetite?” She shouted over the loud guitar music as soon as Thomas rapped on her door.

“Believe it or not, for some reason I actually thought that I would send myself into the danger zone and risk talking to you… it’s a huge risk at that, but I still thought you might appreciate a familiar face.” The door swung open and he noted his sister’s tearstained face.

“That’s funny, considering that you’re one of the only three familiar faces that I would be able to identify. You know how much I hate this. Don’t try to make it go away by diffusing the short-term situation and ignoring the long-term issues. Mom has sucked the life out of me. She expects me to be involved. Can you believe it? What, am I supposed to be in the school play? Or maybe, and listen up, because this is really rich, does she expect me to try out for cheerleading? I’m sure that I’d benefit greatly from that experience.”

“Huh. You know, I actually always had this picture in my head of you with a ponytail tied in a ribbon and curled at the ends, with a cheerleading uniform on and pom-poms in your hands. You have just the sort of vibe that cheerleaders eat up. Of course, I’m referring to the straight “A’s,” the insane interest in everything paranormal, and the sweatpants to Christmas mass thing that you have going on.”

“Okay, one, if you will remember correctly, I got a “B” in Calculus AB last year, two, just because I’m eagerly awaiting the beginning of Supernatural and I weekly check up on the latest information on crop circles does not mean that I’m one of those… people… that spend all of their time looking for UFO’s and helping nonexistent ghosts cross over. I will also remind you that I wore the sweatpants to Christmas mast only once, and that time only because Grandma hates going to mast and we still go ever year, and I thought that it would be fun to join in with her rebellion.”

“Well, whatever you say, Haley. I, however, am convinced that if you let me come down and flop on your bed while you organize and reorganize and then go back and move everything around three times, you will feel a lot better due to my many wise and insightful remarks and my crucial help in establishing internet connection.”

“Now, why would I let you lie down in my bed when I just barely got it set up and put clean sheets on this morning?”

“Umm, said internet connection assistance?”

“Good point. Stay off of Mr. Pickles, though.” Thomas jumped on the bed, wincing at the groan of the springs.

“You know, the bright side of all of this is that next year, you not only have a guaranteed four years in one place, but you get a new mattress. I don’t think that this one likes you very much.”

“Uh, I’d be inclined to believe that it’s you that the mattress doesn’t like quite so much, Tom. Do you have any idea where I should put this?” Haley held up a picture of her with a blond-haired, green-eyed boy a little taller than her in front of their last house. Thomas hesitated and decided against deluding his sister.

“Why would you want to keep that? I mean, you guys did break up before we moved. Nothing good can come from holding onto that all of this time.”

“Yeah, well, we’re still friends. It’s not like I’m one of those all-or-nothing idiots,” she snapped, giving him a pointed glare. She sighed when he got up and made his way to the door, pausing for a moment.

“You know, I think you’re right… after two more of these, you will be able to enter the Olympics. Right now, though, you’re a shoe-in for America’s worst case of PMS.” As he exited, she threw a CD case at the door and sighed before crumpling down on the floor next to her bed.

“At least,” she reasoned, “this can only get better.”