A/N:
So after almost a year of trying, it became very evident that I would never get this published. Not in this market, at least. So Im uploading it here, with the newly revised and polished version that delves much deeper into Ethan's life and sets things up for the second novel.
Please read and review. I've been writing this for three and a half years, and I have all 11 chapters complete but the main reason im putting this up is for feedback.

Thanks, and enjoy Wane.
First, some background- the year is 2008 when this story starts. Okay. Here goes!

August 29

It takes a lot for a fire to begin. See, first you need oxygen, and then you need heat, among other things. I don’t know; I never really paid any attention in Physical Science my Freshmen year. Either way, you normally needed a lot of different chemicals that I didn’t have handy at the moment, so I am not sure why I was ever blamed for this damn fire. It wasn’t my intention to set anything alight.

Nope. What I wanted were some freaking pancakes. Yes, ooey, gooey pancakes, with Aunt Jemima maple syrup and a perfect little slab of butter. Some strawberries would have been beautiful, as well. Why, I can just taste the pancakes in my mouth as I write this.

But enough of my longing and salivating. I would have to say that on my list of worries, “not consuming any buttermilk pancakes” was dead last. Puddles, my best friend, was the one who drove me to make them. Ever since we first got the shaggy little black lab six years ago, pancakes have been his favorite food by a mile. He sometimes liked doggy chow, too, but pancakes were preferable whenever they could be made (and NOT heated up. That’s just nasty.)

As I’m making the pancakes, I get a phone call. It’s from my mom, who, ironically enough, wanted to check up on me. In retrospect, it wasn’t the most brilliant idea to leave the pancakes on the stove, with the heat turned on. By the time I bade her good-bye, and told her to enjoy my little brother Ian’s soccer game, the entire stove was engulfed in flames.
See? I didn’t need all those fancy-shmancy chemicals. I just made it all happen by myself, and it wasn’t even on purpose.

It was a tad bit weird, however, when I stood out with Puddles, staring at our house being burned down. It was symbolic, it really was. Just like me and Puddles have watched life from the outside from the first day we’ve taken breaths- except he’s a dog and I’m a human.

Watching all that summer homework go up in smoke, watching my computer slowly disintegrate (or be blown to bits, not sure what would happen in this situation), and watching my life generally melt before my very eyes was humbling and symbolic of everything that had happened to me over the past several months.

Because I am Ethan. Ethan Luckless.

Fortunately, the firemen were able to extinguish most of the flames, but not before the fire destroyed the majority of the first floor of our-