Quiet and peaceful New Hampshire, normally remained just that; quiet, peaceful New Hampshire. What, you expected it to change?

Being that I'm from New Hampshire, also means that I'm acquainted with my family's pastime of farming. I'm not one to complain, ever, about anything. I love my family's farm. I've loved growing up here. I've loved tending to the animals that are more a part of my family than livestock, and I love the atmosphere. It's the kind of atmosphere you can't find anywhere else.

But if there's one thing I love more than the old, McAnnok family farm, it's the town I've grown up around. I've known most of the people there since my mother was wheeling me around in a bright pink stroller, taking me from street to street in the warmth of the summer sun, underneath the great, azure sky, dotted with it's cotton candy clouds and flocks of sparrows and blue jays.

Most of these people are much older now, that's sure, but they treat me like their own grandchildren. Plenty of them don't have grandchildren of their own anyway, so I guess I serve as a place to give all that grandparent love that they would otherwise have to tuck away.

Hey, like I said. I'm not one to complain, and when you're getting half a dozen cards each year on your birthday, each stuffed with a crisp ten dollar bill, you wouldn't complain either, would you?

"Britt, wake up Hon."

At the sound of my mother's cheery voice, I did the instinctive thing, and buried my face ever deeper into the confines of my pillow, blocking out as many rays of sun as possible.

"Britt Marie McAnnok, get up."

My head slowly lifted from my soft down pillow, dark blonde hair sticking out at odd angles and tangled in the back of my head. In other words, I'd been tossing and turning again last night.

"Yeah Ma? You woke me up at ... five AM for ... " I murmured, rubbing the sleep from my honey hazel eyes, "the heck of it?"

"Aunt Jesse's here." She beamed, wiping her hands ineffectively on her dirty apron.

At that my head shot back up from the pillow and my legs swung over the side of the bed, banging against my cherrywood end table as my feet fell flat onto the floor.

"Now?" I gasped as my hand shot for the brass handle on my dresser, tugging the drawer open sharpy.

"Yes." My mother replied calmly, resting against the doorframe.

I stopped short, and glanced at her sideways, noting her dirtied apron and the splotches of flour on her hands and arms.

"Mom, why'd you wake me up?" I asked curiously, combing my fingers through the ends of my hair as I took a seat back on my still warm mattress.

My mother sighed heavily, and brushed out the wrinkles in her apron, "I need you to make up the other spare room."

"The other, other spare room?" I asked incredulously. I never had to make up the second spare room.

"Mmhmm." She nodded, "Owen brought one of his friends."

My eyes followed my mother out my bedroom door as she shut it softly behind her. Huffing, I collapsed into my comforter, staring up at the ceiling.

Owen was enough of a handful being the girl crazy, city boy that he is, but another one? A clone? Someone so alike Owen that I just may have to inflict bodily harm on the two of them?

I never signed up to baby-sit two spoiled 16-year-old brats while I try to tend to my social life this summer.

"Why me, oh God, why me?"

"Sometime this morning Britt!" My mother called from below my room in the kitchen, where she proceeded to smash the handle of her broom into her ceiling, my floor, causing enough earsplitting racket to hurry me off my bed and into my closet.

On came a freshly washed pair of denim jeans, a fitted 'Panic! At The Disco' T-shirt, and my dirt encrusted converse. I threw my hair up into a messy bun, and hurried out of my room, pulling blankets and sheets out of the linen closet down the hall.

Down came two pillowcases, a large, fluffy, off-white colored comforter, two sets of sheets and ... my mother's sewing kit, all atop my poor, unprepared head.

"Ouch is an understatement." I murmured, whimpering as I bent to gather the various needles and pastel colored threads off of the floor.

"Aw, Britt, honey, what happened?"

"Go away Owen." I murmured, shoving aside the comforter, as I ran my hand over the floor in search of a any stray needles.

"C'mon, Britt, what do you say to keeping the peace these three months?" Owen asked, crouching down beside me, his bright blue eyes sparkling as he smirked at me, and picked a needle off the floor, holding it up in front of my face, "hmm?"

I snatched it away grumpily, tossed it into the copper sewing kit, and slammed the lid shut, "stay away from my friends and I won't harm yours."

"So you heard then?" Owen asked, grabbing the comforter off of the floor, trotting down the hall after me as I turned and hurried into the second guest room, tossing the crumpled sheets and pillowcases onto the bare mattress.

"I may have heard something." I replied nonchalantly, shaking out the wrinkles in the off-white sheet.

"Alright then, cuzzy, let's make things interesting." Owen smirked brightly, helping me pull the sheet across the mattress, tucking it under the corners of the full sized bed.

"Did you just call me 'cuzzy'?" I asked, laughing softly as I pulled the second sheet over the first, and tucked the corners under the mattress.

"Cuzzy, Cousin, same thing. So what do you say?"

"How interesting?"