"Yes! He shoots, he scores! This boy is one fire!" Bob Moffatt’s exclaimed in his best sports announcer's voice.

It felt good to be outside after a morning of unpacking. The Moffatts had relocated from their previous home in Nashville, Tennessee and had arrived at their home in the suburbs of Calgary early that morning. The house was beautiful, six bedrooms, each son finally getting their own, a big backyard with a swimming pool... it was newly built as well. But nothing, not even their beautiful house, could compare to the glorious early June day that was unfolding outside.

It was a cool day, hints of May still lingering in the air. The sun was already shining down intensely, but it wasn't too hot yet, noon had just begun to show it's face. The breeze that passed through every few moments was warm, but thankfully not humid.

Bob pushed his chocolate colored hair out of his face as he caught the ball and began to evenly dribble it, contemplating his next shot. Hew suddenly jumped when he heard clapping coming from behind him. He whirled around to see a tall and skinny African-American girl standing at the end of his driveway, clapping her hands at his performance.

She had long toothpicks of legs jetting out of a pair of tiny khaki shorts. On top, she was wearing a loose fitting navy blue tank top. Her dark hair was haphazardly twisted back in a messy bun; wisps of it billowing around her face when the wind set in. Bob noticed that she was holding her black thong sandals as opposed to wearing them; but she was wearing a big friendly smile on her face. He returned the silent salutation.

"You're pretty good." she commented.

Bob shrugged modestly, dribbling casually as she approached.

"I'm Timber Moore." she said, extending her hand. "I live across the street."

Bob's smile grew. "Bob Moffatt." he said, shaking it. "Do you play?" he asked her, holding up the basketball to illustrate his question.

Timber laughed. "Not well." she replied.

Bob laughed at her statement." Do you want to play?" he asked.

She briefly checked her watch. "Sure, but I can only stay for a few minutes." she said, tossing her shoes over onto the lawn.

He bounce passed her the ball. She caught it swiftly, dribbling. Bob had to laugh at the way she did so, she bent over with her backside sticking out behind her, and she held her free hand up, as if to provide guidance. She glanced up at him when she heard his chortle.

"What's so funny?" she asked, knowing very well what he was laughing at. "I know... I'm not the most graceful dribbler the world of basketball has ever known..." she trailed off, advancing towards the net.

"You're a natural." Bob giggled, doing a half-ass job of blocking her. He soon gave up and just let her take her shot.

SWOOSH! The ball entered the basket with ease.

"Nothing but net!" Bob exclaimed, giving her a high five. "That was awesome."

''Beginner’s luck." she insisted, retrieving the ball and passing it to him.

"So Timber, tell me about yourself." Bob suggested, dribbling casually.

"What do you want to know?" she asked thoughtfully, not thinking of anything about her life that would spark his interest.

"You got family?" he asked, taking a shot at the same time and sinking it almost perfectly.

"Kind of." she replied.

"Kind of?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he passed her the ball.

"Well, my older brother Chandler is twenty. He goes to Harvard and lives on campus; my parents are work- aholics... they are rarely ever home, only to sleep, sometimes..." she trailed off.

"So you basically get the house to yourself?" he asked.

"All the time." she said wryly.

"I so want your life." he said, thinking of how great it would be to have some time away from his brothers.

"I'm sure you'd change your mind after just one day." she assured him, taking a shot and missing by a great distance. "I told you I suck." she laughed.

"So you don't like being alone all day?" he asked, standing on the driveway while she jogged onto the lawn to get the ball.

"It's not like I'm even alone anyway, I mostly hang with my friends." she replied, jogging back, basketball in hand. "What about you?" she asked changing the subject. "What's life like in the Moffatt household?"

"Complete chaos at times, but you get used to it." He replied.

"So you're on a break of something?" she asked.

Bob nodded. "Thank God. We get a month off... I am SO happy." he said.

"What do you have to do when the month's up?" she asked, bouncing him the ball.

"We go on tour in Europe for two months, then we come back." He replied, taking a shot and making it.

"Wow, you really are good at this game." she said in amazement. "I'm jealous, cause as you know, I suck."

Bob laughed. "This is a good day, believe me, you don't want to see me play basketball on bad days." he assured her.

Timber grinned then checked her watch. She was surprised to see that fifteen minutes had already passed by. "Shoot, I have to go, but it was nice meeting you. Feel free to stop by whenever." she said, going to the lawn and getting her sandals.

"It was nice meeting you too, feel free to stop by also." he said pleasantly.

She waved him goodbye as she headed towards the end of the driveway. Bob watched her as she started up the street. She's nice. he thought to himself, holding the ball in the crook of his arm.

* * *

He ran his hand through his curtain of bleached blonde bangs, pushing them back into the regular brown strands that occupied the rest of his head. A contented yet slightly bored sigh escaped his full, pouting lips. It felt good to get out on his own after being cooped up with his family for hours of unpacking when everyone was tired and highly irritable. Thank God for malls...

"Scott Moffatt?!?!" a blonde haired girl shouted loudly as he breezed past her.

Scott whirled around in surprise.

She was an inch or two shorter than him with chin length blonde hair that was either over volumized, or a wig; two dragon clips were situated on either side. She reminded him of someone out of one of those grungy girl bands, with her tight jeans with the holes in the knees, and her even tighter shirt with "Cowboy" printed across the front in cursive. On her feet were a pair of fury, leopard print platform shoes, matching her belt and shoulder bag. He couldn't help but grin at how ridiculous she looked with her hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Remember me?!" she spat coldly.

Scott bit his lip to hold back a loud guffaw that was aching to get out. She had at least five piercings in each ear and she was wearing gothic makeup; he assumed he would remember a girl that looked like her.

"Scott!" she cried, trying to regain his attention.

He looked up at her, an amused look plastered on his face. His piercing blue eyes met up with her dark brown, almost black, ones.

"Should I... remember you?" he trailed off, knowing that if he said anymore, he would burst into laughter.

"A month ago, Toronto, your concert, your dressing room..." she said, expectantly.

Scott raised an eyebrow. Her expectations were too high.

"I gave you head for Christ sake!" she shouted angrily.

A mother with her young son and daughter gave her a cross look.

"Look sweetheart." Scott began, shifting his weight to his left foot. "I get a lot of head, you'll have to be more specific." he said arrogantly, knowing it would piss her off beyond belief.

"You said you'd call and you never did!" she screamed, not caring who heard her.

Scott stared into her eyes, never faltering in his now austere mien. "Sorry." he said shortly, turning to leave.

"Do you even remember my name?!" she cried to his departing back.

Scott spun around on his heels. She was getting on his right nerve and now he was going to destroy her. "Honey," he said, in a tone that made her want to rip off her skin. "I barely recognize your face. Barely."

"I've changed." she snapped. "But I can see you haven't. You're still the same prick. And my name's Racheal."

Scott paused for a minute. "Racheal?" he asked. He did indeed remember her. "You used to be a brunette." he commented.

"Oh, so you DO remember me." she said dryly.

"Yeah of course! I remember you were dressed like a tramp, about twenty pounds heavier, and you gave the worst head ever. I think I might still have the teeth marks." he replied with a smug smirk.

Her jaw dropped.

"Bye now!" Scott simpered, giving her a sweet little wave. He turned on his heels and headed off to the restrooms, where he was going in the first place.

"YOU ASSHOLE!" Racheal screamed.

"Bye Racheal!" he called over his shoulder.

Scott made his way through the foodcourt which was already crowded with mall-goers, though it was only around noon. There was a sign over a large door that read 'restrooms'; the promised land for someone who's bladder was on the brink of exploding. Scott power walked through the door and rounded the corner where the telephones were. He started down the small hallways to where the men's room was located.

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, he slammed face first into the door of the ladies room. Stars twinkled before his eyes and he stumbled backward in surprise. Black crept in from the sides of his vision and he fell backwards, blanking out.

"Oh my God!" a heavily accented voice cried.

Scott slowly blinked his eyes open. There was an angel crouched over him. In his delirious state, he could have sworn she was. His angel was beautiful. She had a round face, equipped with silver wire framed glasses. Her eyes were dark brown, the same color as her big curls that hung down around her face as she crouched over him. Judging by her voice and appearance, he could tell that she was from Western Europe, she looked to be Spanish or Portuguese.

He suddenly felt her pressing something against his bleeding nose.

"Are you alright?" she asked, concern seeping out of her words.

Scott attempted to sit up, and realized that wasn't the best idea after he did so. Pain seared through his face. "Ugh." he moaned.

"I'm so sorry... are you okay?" she asked again, flustered.

Scott looked over at her. She was absolutely breathtaking. Was he dead? Was she really an angel?

"I'm fine." he replied, still gazing into her eyes.

"Do you need ice?" she asked, touching his shoulder gently. "Your nose is bleeding pretty badly."

"Naw, that's alright, I'm good." he said, smiling. Screw his damned nose, she was amazing. "I'm Scott." he said, but with his hand pinching his nose it sounded like he said 'I'm snot.'

"Pardon me?" she asked, giggling.

Scott removed the Kleenex from his face, inspecting it. "I'm Scott." he repeated. "Scott Moffatt."

"My name's Angela... Tendero." she said in return, tipping his head back slightly and getting a close look. He face was only inches from his, and his heart sped up for some reason.

"That's odd..." he thought to himself.

"I'll get you some tissues." she said, getting to her feet and going back into the bathroom. Scott watched after her, his eyes not wanting to be peeled from her beauty for too long.

Angela returned with a handful of toilet paper in her hand. "Sorry, there wasn't anymore Kleenex." she apologized, handing him the small wad.

"Thanks." Scott said, taking it, his fingers brushing hers. He pressed them all to his nose at once, blood was profusely leaking and he knew that wasn't exactly healthy.

"You have a beautiful accent." he said, turning to her. "Where are you from?"

Angela sat back on her heels. "I'm from Madrid, Spain. I just moved here a year ago." she replied, studying his face.

His eyes met hers and she blushed, knowing that he knew what she had been doing. "That's a beautiful city." he commented, staring deeply into her eyes as he did so.

Angela smiled, and blushed and even deeper shade of red. "Is your nose doing okay?" she asked him, swiftly changing the subject.

Scott nodded, getting to his feet. She followed suit, dusting off her jeans. She had to be about five feet six inches.

"I'm so sorry." she said again. He could tell she felt terrible.

"Don't worry about it." was all he said. "Accidents happen all the time." "Just look at Bob, Dave and Clint..." he added silently to himself, grinning.

"I have..." she pointed in the direction of the exit, still staring in his eyes. "... to go." she finished.

"Well it was nice meeting you Angela, despite the circumstances." he added.

She laughed. " You too. Goodbye Scott."

"See ya." he said as she turned and walked away. He hoped to God that he would see her again.

* * *

Bob stormed into the kitchen, basketball tucked securely under his arm, and went straight for the refrigerator for some water.

"There's nothing in there Bob." his younger triplet informed him. Dave continued to eat his honey nut Cheerios straight from the box.

Bob's identical triplet sat across the table from him, flipping through a Victoria's Secret catalog.

"Sheila's going grocery shopping with Dad in a hour or so." Dave continues between bites.

"That would explain why Dave here is eating dry cereal from the box." Clint explained nonchalantly, not bothering to look up from his favorite selection of reading material.

Bob frowned. "Damnit." he cursed plainly as if saying the sky was blue. "But I'm so thirsty!" he whined with a pout.

"Awww shame." Clint said, with an annoyingly content smirk on his face.

Bob shot him a quick dose of the evil eye before going to the faucet and turning it on full blast. He stuck his index finger under it, testing the temperature and patiently waiting for it to get cold.

"You aren't going to do what I think you are..." Cling started to say, but was cut off when Bob stuck his face into the sink and slurped at the water running form the spout.

"Bob..." Dave said, shaking his head in disgust.

"That's so gross!" Clint screamed, covering his eyes with his magazine.

"What's gross about it?" Bob asked, coming up for air, then going back down for another sip. He finally came up for good, shutting off the faucet then turned to his brothers. The hair on the right side of his face was completely soaked. He wiped the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Are you going to eat out of a trough now?" Clint cried.

"No, judging by the way he's dominating that box of cereal, I'd have to say that's Dave's job." Bob replied.

Dave didn't seem to be paying attention.

Clint eyed his brother. "At least use a glass Bob." he said, turning his attention back to the matter at hand.

Bob grinned at his perturbed triplet.

"I can't even believe I shared an egg with your stupid ass." Clint mumbled, going back to his catalog.

Bob walked over to the table and shook his head off, flecks of water from his hair splaying all over his two siblings.

"Bob!" Cling cried. "Ugh! You little prick!" he snapped.

"It's not little." Bob said with a grin.

Clint clenched his teeth, completely pissed off. He got up from the table and shot his brother a look that could kill before stalking off towards the staircase in the front hall. Bob plunked down in his seat, resting the basketball in his lap.

"Cheerios?" Dave offered, tipping the box toward his brother.

Bob smiled from ear to ear. "Don't mind if I do." he replied, grabbing a handful.

Just at that moment, Scott entered the house from the side door that led to the kitchen.

"Hey." he said, going for the refrigerator.

"There's nothing in there..." Dave sang, just as his older brother pulled open both freezer and refrigerator doors open at the same time.

"Damnit." Scott said flatly, slamming them shut.

"Sheila and Dad are going grocery shopping in a bit." Bob passed on, dribbling the basketball against the tile floor.

Scott turned back to face his brothers. "Hook me up with some of them Cheerios Dave." he said, going and taking a seat at the round kitchen table with his brothers.

Dave held the box out to him.

"So Bob," Scott began, taking a handful. "Who was that chick I saw you outside with earlier?" he asked.

Bob smiled, still dribbling. He had left the remainder of his handful of Cheerios on the kitchen table in front of him. "That's Timber Moore." he replied. "She's really nice, she lives across the street."

"She's like Clint," Dave stated. "Tall and skinny."

"Yeah." Scott said.

"She's really nice." Bob said again, not especially paying attention to anything but the bouncing of the basketball.

"You already said that." Dave stated.

"Huh?" Bob asked, looking up.

"You alread said that!" Scott yelled.

"You don't have to yell Scott, I'm right here." Bob said calmly.

Scott rolled his eyes. "Dad and Sheila better get some food." he said, changing the subject.

"What's that honey?" Sheila asked, entering the kitchen while digging in her purse for the car keys. Frank followed behind her, looking over a long shopping list he had scrawled down at the last minute.

"Are you guys going to get food?" Scott asked hopefully.

Sheila laughed at her stepson's zeal. "Yes, we are." she replied, finding the keys. "We'll be back in an hour or two."

"Maybe three..." Frank commented under his breath, referring to how long the list was.

"We'll see you guys later." Sheila said, opening the door that lead to the driveway.

"Be good, and Bob, no ball in the house." Frank added, looking up at his sons.

"Sorry..." Bob groaned.

Their parents exited the house. Their three sons in the kitchen waited until they heard their fathers large, black, Ford Expedition pull out of the driveway and away before a huge smile appeared on Scott's lips.

"What should we do first?" he asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Who said we had to do anything?" Dave asked nervously; he knew what happened whenever Scott suggested they do something. They always got into trouble.

"Oh come on Davey," Scott began, with a cheesy smirk. "Parents are out, we don't have anywhere to go being as how we're new to these parts... how about some brotherly bonding?" he suggested. "Where's Clint?" he asked, not giving the other two a chance to protest. He headed for the steps.

Bob jumped up and followed, leaving Dave alone in the kitchen with the ball.

"Awww hell." he moaned, getting up and following them, leaving the box of Cheerios on the table.

* * *

"Clint!" Scott called out, loudly rapping on the bathroom door.

"What?!" Clint snapped angrily.

"I think you disrupted his bonding time with the Vicki's Secret catalog." Bob joked.

"Shut up Bob!" Clint shouted through the door.

"Whatcha doing in there C.T.?" Scott asked with a grin that was a mile wide.

"Taking a shit, now go away." Clint replied.

Bob and Scott broke into laughter.

"Psssst! Scott!" Dave hissed in a whisper, catching his older brother's attention.

Scott turned around. "What?"

"Pick the lock." Dave mouthed.

Scott beamed, punching his youngest brother's shoulder as a way of commending him for a good idea. He jogged down the hallway to his parents bedroom.

"What're you guys doing out there?" Clint asked suspiciously.

"What're you doing in there?" Bob asked, smiling.

"Yeah Clint," Dave said. "We know you aren't taking a turd because you took one yesterday." he pointed out.

"Oh God!" Clint exclaimed. "You little pervert! I don't even want to know how you know that! Go away!"

"Okay Clint, we'll leave you alone." Bob lied, seeing Scott emerge from his parents bedroom with one of Sheila's bobby pins in hand. He started stomping his feet loudly on the floor and gradually got softer and softer, trying to create the illusion that he was walking away.

Scott tiptoed to the door, and the three pressed their ears against it, listening carefully. Clint let out a low moan, and they could faintly hear the sound of skin sliding on skin. He was definitely jerking off.

Bob covered his mouth to suppress a giggle that tickled in the back of his throat.

Scott nudged him aside, sliding the bobby pin into the lock. He twisted it and jingled it until there was a loud click and the door flew open.

Clint jumped and tripped backwards as his pants were at his ankles. He landed with a thud, ass first on the tile floor and ripped a towel off the handle to cover himself. His face a bright crimson and he looked as angry as a raging bull.

His brothers burst into laughter, Dave collapsing to the floor, Bob holding the door jamb the keep from doing the same. Scott held his stomach as he shrieked, tears coming to his eyes.

Clint fumbled to get his pants up and he started buttoning them hastily.

"Hey... hey Clint..." Scott tried to speak. "You've got a little... a little... what's-it on your hands!" he cried.

Clint gave him a look that seemed to jump on his back and stab him in the chest a million times. Scott was immune to it, his laughter too intense. He went to the sink and began to wash the sticky fluid off his hands, water splashing up from the sink as he furiously rubbed his hands together.

Dave picked up the Victoria's Secret catalog that was sitting on the back of the toilet by the corner between his index finger and thumb. "Poor Tyra Banks." he said, referring to the smudge of bodily fluids across her face. Clint snatched the magazine from his obnoxious brother and stormed out of the bathroom mumbling something about his brothers being immature.

"Talk about being caught with your pants down!" Bob guffawed, now down on one knee.

He struggled to his feet and hurried out into the hallway, headed for Clint's bedroom; but was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. He did a bee-line for the staircase and took them down, two at a time, jumping the last four steps to the bottom. He was still laughing slightly as he swung open the door.

"Hey Timber. Wusssap?" He exclaimed cheerfully.

"Hey Bob. I'm having a few friends over, I might even have a party later, and I was wondering if you and your brothers could come hang out for a bit?" she asked.

"Okay, that sounds cool. What time?" he asked.

"Uh... right now!" she said with a shrug. "A few people are already here, we're just deciding whether or not to have a party so... you can come whenever you want." she rambled on, her eyes darting around the porch.

"Uh okay... we'll be over in a few;" he dropped his voice to a whisper. "We're having a little crisis with Clint right now..." he said.

Timber laughed, "Okay, see ya."

"Uh huh, thanks for the invite." he said.

"Anytime." She headed down the porch.

Bob shut the door and turned to the bottom of the steps. "YOU GUYS!!!! WE'RE GOING TO TIMBER'S!!!" he called, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound of his voice.

* * *

"Hey guys!" Timber exclaimed, opening the door to her house.

"Hey!" Bob said. "These are my brothers: Clint, Dave, and Scott." he introduced, pointing to each one respectively.

"Hey." she said. "Timber Moore." she shook each of their hands.

"That's a cool name." Dave commented.

"Thanks, come on in you guys, we're in the basement." she said, leading them in.

Scott was last to enter and closed the door behind him.

Her house was really nice. It was large and spacious, not covered in furniture, and it was mostly black, white, grey, and chrome, looking very futuristic and high tech.

"I know it's kind of art-deco-ish." she said, reading Scott's thoughts. "My parents are really into the whole futuristic thing, they're lunatics."

The boys laughed at her last statement.

"Then we come to the basement which is basically my domain." she announced, opening the door and leading them down the steps.

Christmas lights lined the perimeter of the ceiling, lighting up the entire area. There was a large, black, leather couch off against the back wall. The bar was over in the opposite corner, with seven cylinders filled with water and decorated inside to look like fish tanks, but with fake fish inside. There were tiny chrome side tables scattered about, each with a different color lava or glitter lamp on them. There were three bean bag chairs, one with a leopard print cover, another was designed to look like a giant 8-ball, and the last was black and white zebra print. She must have had four or five inflatable chairs all around the room, in florescent green, pink, blue, purple, and orange. There was a large oriental rug in the middle of the floor that was black with large white characters at each of the corners and a big one in the middle. She had a monster sound system over in the corner by the sofa and various posters hanging up all over the walls, the one behind the bar saying: "Fuck milk, Got beer?" with a large mug of beer on it. There were bead drop curtains covering other rooms that branched out from the main one, only one having a door, which was assumed to be the bathroom. There was a pool table that had become the home of a myriad of discarded Barbie dolls; but the main attraction in the room was the huge kayak that was sitting in the middle of the floor in front of the big screen television set.

"This room looks like something out of Austin Powers." Scott commented.

Timber laughed. "Make yourselves at home." she said.

There were two other girls in the room. One had short, dark brown, boy-cut hair with golden highlights in it. She had a natural, deep, tan, and an awesome body. She had to be about five-feet seven inches, her legs were long and smooth. She smiled up at them, her full glossy lips curving perfectly. Her brown eyes scanned each of the boys.

The other girl looked a great deal like the first one, same skin tone, same hair color, except, her hair was to her chin and held back in a headband. She was definitely preppy, with her casual, yellow, sun dress and straw shoes. She was a typical daddy's girl. Her eyes were a dark blue color, and her lips weren't as full and sexy as the first's. She was very tiny, only standing to about five-feet two inches; but her chest was rather large, a small amount of cleavage coming out of the neckline of her dress.

"These are my three best friends, Jeanine Alba," Timber introduced, pointing to the first girl. "Her cousin Kelly Temboli," she pointed to the second. "And... well Angela is around here somewhere. I think she might be in the kitchen. And girls, this is Bob, Clint, Scott, and Dave." she trailed as she climbed into the kayak and had a seat. "Take a seat guys. We're still deciding whether or not to have a party."

"Party?" Scott asked, raising an eyebrow. A smile formed on his lips, he liked the sound of that.

"I'll take that as a yes vote from you." she said with a grin. "It's so boring around here. I just want to have fun."

"A party's definitely a good way to take care of that..." Dave said.

Timber laughed. "Yeah it is... Hey, do you know a guy named Ben Stiener?" she asked him.

Dave pondered her question for a moment.

"Ben! Benjamin Stiener... Ben-Jammin'!" Clint laughed.

"Oh yeah! I knew that name was familiar. We went to like preschool with that kid, he was my best friend for like a million years! But I haven't seen him in like 5 years." Dave said, grinning.

"Yeah, I saw him today at the grocery store, we go to school together, and said something about seeing you today and he said he knew you. I'll invite him to the party, that kid's awesome." Tim said, leaning back in the kayak.

"Yeah... whatever." Jeanine mumbled. She had dated Ben for a few months and he had just recently broken up with her. They were still very close friends, so she had no reason to be bitter, but she still couldn't help herself against the wry commentary every now and then.

"Timber, I couldn't find your address book." Angela started, appearing at the bottom of the steps.

"This is Angela guys." Timber said.

Angela smiled at the four boys. Her eyes fell on Scott and she waved to him, smiling. He smiled back. He somehow knew he was going to see her again.

"Do you guys want anything to drink?" Timber asked, starting to get up. "I myself feel like some kool-aid." she commented.

"I'll make some Tim." Angela offered.

"I'll help." Scott said, getting up off the zebra bean bag chair.

"Oh, thanks guys, I am feeling way to lazy to do anything." she laughed.

Scott followed Angela up the stairs.

"Make the green kind!" Timber called after him.

All the time while conversation was unfolding, Kelly was staring at the boys, taking in their features. She was a fan of theirs, a BIG fan... the number one fan in her opinion, and it took all she had not to just dive over to them and totally rip Scott's clothes off. She had been sitting on her hands for since they sat down. Timber had forewarned her that they were coming, but Kelly still felt her heart thud abnormally when she heard them coming down the steps.

"So how old are you guys?" Bob asked, getting comfortable on the blue inflatable chair.

"Kelly, Angie, and I are fifteen." Jeanine replied.

"Oh, so how old are you?" he asked Timber.

"I'm the baby of the group." she laughed. "How old do you think I am?" she asked.

"I thought you were fifteen." Bob said.

"You're tall." Dave added.

"I'm not going to grow anymore." she stated sadly.

"Fourteen?" Dave asked.

"Thirteen." Jeanine said.

"Really?" Bob asked.

"I'm tall." Timber offered. "How old are you guys? You're triplets right?"

"Yeah, and fifteen. Then Scott's sixteen." Dave answered.

"Wait, so if you're thirteen and you guys are fifteen, how do you know each other?" Clint asked, completely addled by then.

"We go to school together." Jeanine replied, sitting up in the Cheetah bean bag.

"I don't get it." Clint said.

"Long story." Timber interjected, picking up the double sided paddle of the kayak and balancing on the front.

"She's a brainiac." Jeanine supplied.

Bob and Dave laughed. "That must suck." Bob said. "Being the only thirteen year old going-to-be-sophomore at your school."

"Not really." she said, wishing that the attention wasn't focused on her. "No one knows until I tell them."

"Well then that's not so bad." Dave said.

"Oh, wait, so you skipped two grades, so you're in their grade." Clint finally pieced together.

Everyone in the room seemed to give him look that said: "No shit Sherlock" in unison.

"So I'm a little slow..." he said, defending himself.

"Where are they with that damned Kool-aid. I'm thirsty." Timber said, sounding suddenly irritated.

* * *

Angela entered the kitchen, going straight for the refrigerator. She hadn't even taken notice to Scott following her until she swung open the freezer door and nailed him right in the nose.

"OH MY GOD!!!" she cried, slamming the door shut and dropping to the cold tile floor where he sat back clutching his nose.

"My nose and I have had the worst luck with you and doors today." he joked.

"Ugh, is it bleeding? I am SO sorry..." she said, brushing some of his hair out of his face to get a closer look.

"It's... going to be okay." he said, removing his hand and inspecting it. There were no traces of blood.

"Oh, what can I do to make it feel better, I feel so terrible!" she said miserably.

"Angela, it's alright hon, I'm fine." He assured her, smiling at her emotion.

She looked up at him. Their eyes locked for a moment.

"... but my mom used to always give my bo-bo's a little kiss..." he added, his blue eyes penetrating her brown ones. She looked slightly shocked at his proposal, but quickly masked it.

Angela leaned towards him and gave him a quick peck on the nose, blushing when she pulled away.

"You're good at that." Scott said, grinning.

"I have a one-and-a-half year old sister." she explained softly.

Scott brushed back one of her curls.

"Hey, are you guys crushing the powder for the kool-aid yourselves or what?" Timber joked, waltzing into the kitchen. "... or should I come back later?" she added when she witnessed the situation that was unfolding on the floor.

"No, no Timber, stay." Angela said, getting to her feet.

Scott was surprised at her not wanting to be left alone with him.

"I don't want Kool-aid anymore." Timber said passively, wandering to the cabinets. "I think I want some Clearly Canadian. That stuff is so good. I love sparkling water..." she rambled on, with her back to the two.

Scott got to his feet and stood by the refrigerator staring at Angela, slightly sad that she didn't want to kiss him. She looked over at him, then quickly looked away, her face turning bright red. Scott was slightly annoyed with himself for being so bothered over her not wanting to kiss him, he had never really cared before, girls were like ear-plugs to him; you change then after every concert. But the fact that his angel didn't want to kiss him deeply bothered him, he wanted to find out why she didn't like him when he liked her... no, that's absurd, he didn't like her, she was just a pretty face. It would take a lot more than a pretty face to make him swoon. So he didn't give a shit anymore. He wasn't going to let himself give a shit.

"Scott?" Timber sang.

He looked up at her.

"Welcome back, do you want a Clearly Canadian?" she offered.

Angela already had an armload for the others.

"Uh, sure." he replied, going over to her. "Let me get those Angela..."

"I've got it." she said softly.

"Oh, but what kind of guy would I be if I let you carry all those heavy bottles downstairs by yourself?" he asked, charmingly.

Timber raised an eyebrow. "Gag me." she mouthed to herself, turning back to the cabinet and shutting it.

"They aren't that heavy..." Angela trailed off, as he took them out of her arms.

The trio headed down the steps to the basement where the other five were laughing hysterically about something.

"Oh Tim, I just called Ben and told him to come on over." Jeanine informed her friend.

"Cool." was Tim's only reply.

Scott set the bottles of sparkling water in the middle of the floor.

"Oh I LOVE that stuff!" Clint exclaimed.

"What happened to the Kool-aid?" Bob asked, pouting. "I love green Kool-aid."

"We can go make some if you want." Timber said, getting up.

"Oh, well, it's not that big of a deal." Bob declined.

"No, come on, I feel like some too." she said, grabbing two sparkling water bottles off the carpet and pulling him up by the hand.

They ran up the steps.

Kelly studied Scott's face. He hadn't looked her way yet. He had been constantly staring at Angela. She felt her heart sink. She knew what that meant, she had seen that stare before.

"So do you guys like it here? I'm sure it's nothing in comparison to any of the other places you've visited, but..." Kelly babbled, suddenly feeling stupid when all eyes turned to her.

"Yeah, this place is cool." Scott replied. "We grew up in Canada though, so there's no place like home." he said with a smile.

Kelly blushed tremendously when she saw his pearly whites.

"The good part is that we'll be home a lot more than in the past." Clint added.

"So we'll be seeing a lot of you guys." Jeanine said, smiling at Dave.

"Yup." Scott said, directing his comment at Angela. "You won't be rid of us that easily."

"And we still have a party to plan." Jeanine added, completely off subject.

* * *

"Goddamnittohell!" Timber exclaimed in anger. "I cannot find anymore Green Kool-aid packs!"

"That sucks." Bob said, leaning back against the counter. "Green is the best kind."

"Besides Purple." they both said at the same time, then laughed.

"I think I have a stash somewhere in my room, come on." she said, running out of the room with him at her heels.

They ran out into the front hall then up the steps. Timber's bedroom was the second door on the left side. It was very small and simply decorated. White furniture, white painted walls with no posters, she had a big chrome trunk, an inflatable chair, a black comforter with light blue colored sheets, one red pillowcase, one green, one navy blue, and one purple, though her bed was only twin sized. There were four big stuffed animal cats situated comfortably on top. On her dresser was a silver based glitter lamp with pink fluid and glitter, and a few bottles. He noticed that her room had no light fixtures, just a big chrome lamp in the corner with a chrome umbrella shade. Her bedroom was very homey and original.

"I like it in here." he commented.

"Thanks, I try." she joked, digging through the big chrome trunk on the floor at the foot of her bed. "Found them!" she exclaimed, holding up several packets of green and purple Kool-aid. She pushed a wisp of hair behind her ear. Her ears were pierced once in each lobe and had a tiny platinum stud in them.

"Let's go make that stuff!" he said eagerly, turning to leave and coming face-to-face with a giant Hello Kitty stuffed animal. It had to be at least seven feet tall, sitting against her wall. "Whoa!" he said, jumping in surprise.

She laughed at him, and tossed a few back of Kool-aid at him. "Come on." she said, grabbing a worn red Abercrombie and Fitch hat off her inflatable chair and putting it on backwards.

The girl's got moxy. Bob thought to himself, using one of his secretly favorite words as he followed her down the steps.

"Ever eat this stuff dry?" she asked him as they make their way into the kitchen.

"All the time." Bob replied.

"I dare you to eat a whole back in under a minute." she proposed, going through the cabinet for a pitcher.

"I will if you will." he laughed, wondering how the idea had come to her so randomly.

"Okay, then we have to make the rest of them and drink them all in under a minutes." she added, upping the ante.

"Impossible." Bob stated, disbelievingly.

"Possible!" she contradicted him, cutting open a pack. "Whoever eats this whole pack dry first wins." she proposed.

"Well you'll be eating those words along with that pack because I'll wup your ass at it." he said arrogantly.

"Like hell you will!" she contradicted him, mixing the other four packs into two seperate pitchers. "Okay, here's the deal, whoever eats the dry pack, then drinks their pitcher first wins."

"Don't say I didn't warn you!" Bob continued with a regretful sigh.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Go." she said.

The two teens began to pour dry drink mix down their throats, both simultaneously stopping to cough, colored dust spewing from their mouths. Neither were very competitive, but both were having a blast. Bob took his pitcher and poured as much as he could into hers.

"Not fair!" she cried, trying to push his pitcher back, but was laughing too hard.

Bob laughed equally as hard.

Timber pretended to be annoyed with his amused disposition and took the whole pitcher and threw it at him, soaking his upper half along with the entire kitchen floor.

"You're dead!" Bob cried, not being able to cover up his amused chortles. He poured his pitcher over her head, soaking her entire body. She screamed.

"Now you're going to get it!" she cried, flinging her half full dry pack of Kool-Aid at him and causing a streak of purple to cling to his shirt. Bob ran his finger through it and sucked the flavor off.

"I've always loved purple." he commented, then took his pack and poured it on her head, but not before ripping off her hat and putting it on his head.

They were both laughing hysterically by then. Bob took one of the Clearly Canadian bottles off the counter and began to shake it.

"Oh no you don't!" Timber exclaimed, grabbing the other one and shaking it.

He lunged for her, but she scurried around to the other side of the island-counter before he got close enough.

"Oh Timber..." he sang, inching closer.

"Go away!" she shrieked, backing up into the refrigerator.

Bob closed in on her, opening his bottle at the same time she did and holding it out at her. She held hers to him and in the end they were both on the floor laughing hysterically and completely soaked.

"We made a mess." Bob commented.

"That we did." she said.

"We gotta get this place cleaned up."

"Before the party." she continued, getting to her feet and nearly slipping in a puddle on sticky liquid. Bob was right behind her.

"Wow," he said, taking the mop from her hands. "I haven't had this much fun for a long time... well since we barged in on Clint jacking off this afternoon." he said, laughing at the memory.

"WHAT?!?!" she exclaimed.

* * *

Timber tossed her tiny Hello Kitty address book across the room at Jeanine. "Call a ton of people, tonight we party."

Jen grinned. "Alrighty then." she said, then paused. "What happened to you?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it." Timber said. "Call! Me and Bob will be back in a few minutes, we have to go change really quick."

"Change?! Why?" Scott asked.

"Making Kool-Aid isn't as easy as it looks." she replied, scurrying back up the steps.

* * *

return***two