Chapter 1 – Unwelcome Visitor

For normal teenagers, the first day of high school was a big event in their life. You know, you have your outfit picked out a week ahead of time and you spend an hour on doing your hair alone. And don't even get me started on makeup. I don't understand the hype. I mean, instead of going to a school full of fish (get it? School of fish, oh never mind), you are going to a bigger ocean full of sharks. Everyone's thirsting for blood, especially the blood of weak and innocent freshmen. The first year is basically a year of torture, so why was it so important?

For me, I would be lucky to show up in something that wasn't covered in feces. Yeah, you read me right – crap. Horse crap to be specific.

I live on a humble farm, 50 acres for running around, playing games, but mostly work. Every morning I had to get up at 5 AM – even on the most important day of my life, stupid preppy girls for believing that – and do the morning chores. Don't even get me started on the evening ones. At least I wasn't alone in this; my half-sister Ella and I usually double team to make work go by quicker, but we still aren't done until about 7:30.

"Ella, rise and shine." I paused to bang my fist on the door. "It's five AM." From the other side I heard some incoherent muttering and the sleepy shuffle of feet.

Ella emerged, one hand lazily rubbing at her eyes, her brown hair in a tangled mess. "Mornin'," I said, and she responded with an annoyed grunt. She passed me in the hallway and hobbled into the bathroom. She emerged five minutes later.

"Ready?" I asked her.

"Yeah, but I'm so tired," she griped. "I wish we wouldn't have to do chores on school days, especially the first day of school."

I laughed. "Well maybe it would be easier if you wouldn't be up until 1 AM talking to your friends. I mean seriously, don't they have a bedtime or something?" She shot me a glare, and I rolled my eyes. "C'mon, we're already behind."

We filed downstairs and marched out the back door like two solemn soldiers facing a battle against hundreds of restless troops – those being the animals. I headed toward the stalls while Ella went to the sheep pen. The morning was chilly, but no wind blew which I was grateful for. The sky was an overcast dull gray, the ground sinking with each of my footsteps while the grass sparkled with drops of rain, like billions of stars among the sky. It was a bright spot on this dreary morning, almost like a sign. Jeez, I had no idea I was this poetic.

The horse stalls were only a few meters from the barn that we called home. The brown structure was two stories tall, huge sliding doors on parallel sides of the walls. We housed horses for the locals and we owned three of our own. The owners had to groom their horses and muck the stalls, but we still had the responsibility of feeding them. It wasn't fun feeding grumpy horses, especially after they have been cooped up a small space for a long time. Again, it wasn't my responsibility to exercise the horses that weren't ours.

We were low on feed, so I trudged up the steps to the second floor of the stalls where we kept all the extra supplies. I picked out a new bag and maneuvered down the steps carefully. Thanks to hauling heavy bags like this for a long time, I'm stronger than the average fourteen-year-old girl. Physically, I was taller than most of them too, even taller than some guys which freaked them out. I was about 5'8" and extremely thin, not anorexic-thin where all my bones showed, but healthy looking. What can I say? Working on the barn has kicked up my metabolism. My hair also held the signs of a work girl – it is a light brown with sun-streaked blond highlights that hung limply down my back. It had never been styled, so I usually kept it in a braid so it wouldn't fly in my face, which I found annoying.

I went through each stall, filling troughs with oats and hay. Most of the horses ignored me, except for one who I felt was looking straight through me. I felt myself smile involuntarily. "Hey, Gale," I said to my horse. I'd named her that after the first time I rode her; it felt like I was traveling through a storm with how fast she ran. She whinnied and nuzzled her furry nose against the palm of my hand, causing me to laugh. She was a giant teddy bear. I hugged her large neck. "This is supposed to be a big day," I said to her. "Yet it doesn't feel that important. It's just like every other first day of school: annoying, unwanted, unavoidable. Oh well, time to suffer through it. Wish me luck." She sneezed. I patted her once more before I left.

The sun now peaked over the edge of the horizon. Orange oozed in the east, coalescing with the gray to turn to overlying purple. I walked the dirt path west of the stable toward "The Pen" – 10 acres filled with sheep and a scanty amount of cattle. It was enclosed by a brown picket fence. Our dog, an Australian Shepherd named Savannah, along with Ella corralled The Pen's inhabitants into a separate fenced-in area where we kept their troughs. Their work wasn't easy, especially since they were dealing with such stupid animals, but someone had to do it. I poured the feed into their appropriate dishes and ran a hose into the buckets.

When they finished wrangling the animals, Ella and I went through the rest of the chores together. After we completed them, it was time to retire and get ready for school. Ugh.

"I can't decide if I should wear a skirt or shorts," Ella said as she went through her dresser. She held out a denim mini skirt and plaid shorts in her hands and looked at them as if she was vacillating between diamond earrings or a gold necklace. Not that either of those were really important to me.

"You're talking to the wrong person," I said impatiently. I was lucky if my clothing matched, let alone if it was fashionable.

"I want to make a good impression, ya know?" I rolled my eyes.

"Just do eeny, meeny, miny, moe. I really don't care."

"Whatever."

I didn't feel like dealing with her anymore, so I walked out of her room. Down the hall Mom noticed me and approached. She was in traditional white lab coat with a pink blouse and brown skirt underneath. It was her power-outfit; she owner her own veterinary practice.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked. She had an apprehensive look on her face, which instantly made me wary.

She smiled uneasily. "Max, are you ready for today?"

"Oh no, please don't give me a 'you're growing up before my eyes speech'." I may not be afraid of much, but that would be downright torture. Nothing is worse than your mother crying.

"No, I'm not going to do that… yet." She laughed, a little carefree which was more like her. "But there is someone downstairs who wants to talk with you."

Oh jeez.

This could not be good.

I instantly felt twitchy. There is only one person that ever makes Mom act like that. And it's not because she doesn't like him. It's the way I react to him that makes her anxious.

It was my father, Jeb Batchelder.

I can't really explain why I don't like him. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that every time I see him he sizes me up like I'm one of his patients. He's a doctor, so we receive a nice child support bill from him every month – not that we really need it. Just about the only thing he's good for. When I'm near him my senses go on hyper drive and I want to run away as quickly as possible.

"Now Max," Mom began with a warning in her voice.

"Mom, you did not invite him over here, did you?" I felt my hands shake with rage. I thought she knew me better than that! Did she invite him to take picture of the big day? It's like I'm in kindergarten all over again.

She shook her head. "Honey, you know I wouldn't purposely do anything to upset you. Your father came over unannounced; probably because that's the only way he can come over anymore. Whenever he calls you insist that he shouldn't be allowed in this home."

"I don't insist, I yell and scream at the top of my lungs."

It was clear that Mom was getting impatient with my immaturity. "He's your father," she said slowly, like all the other times she'd explained it to me. "Just talk to him. What's the worst that can happen?"

I really didn't want to know the answer to that.

This is not your average "flock is normal" story, so please don't stereotype. It might seem like it for a while, but it isn't. You might be shocked by what's in store (and if something like this has been written before, oh well).

Please Review!