The Foxes

Chapter 1

Brody had plenty of things in his life to be thankful for. He had a great house, friends who cared about him, he lived in a mostly nice town, he was classically attractive, and the list goes on. But he did not have a mother, and his father was hardly that, and his town was not what he would have made it. All together, Brody was a normal kid. Everybody had great things in their lives and no-so-great things, and Brody knew that, but sometimes he felt like he shouldn't be so unhappy with his life.

His father had brought home food for him, but Brody was somewhat against fast food, and his father knew that. Time and time again, Richard Weston brought home a salad from the only fast food joint in town, and time and time again his son said, "Thanks, but it's your's if you want it."

Brody had spent years trying to figure out whether he should be thankful that his father thought of him, or resentful that his father ignored the fact that Brody clearly didn't want the salads. Brody was just happy to have his friend Walter, whose house was very much a home to anyone who wanted one. Walter's mom had served as Brody's honorary mother for years. Brody was always welcome for dinner, and most nights he took up that offer.

Brody walked into his backyard, into the woods behind his house, scared himself into going back to the road, and keep going, as he did nearly every night. When he got to Walter's house he knocked on the door, twice, like he always did. Walter's mom, Sherl, opened the door, like she always did, telling Brody, "You don't need to knock. You practically live here anyway!" as she hugged him and let him inside. Brody sat at the table, like he always did, and texted Walter: I'm here and waited. Walter walked in a few minutes later, his face painted over with mock surprise.

"Well, now," He said, "Who do we have here? Brody, is that you? It's been a while! I never would have expected to see you here!"

To which Brody responded, "Walter? Man, it's been what, five, six years? What on earth are you doing here?"

And then they moved on, because that's how they were. Brody had mainly one friend, Walter, and that was because the two boys were unlike the others. Brody and Walter had another friend, Duke, who lived in Rosewood during the summer with some extended family that no one asked about, and with his parents in the school year. Duke would always visit at Christmas though, and the three would make a mess of their town. Or pretend to, at least - they all really cared about nature and other people, so they tried to be polite. To the three of them, everyone else in Rosewood wanted to fit in, or at least wanted to have friends or be friendly. They all seemed to want something normal in their lives. They were all coherent and had conversations about a single thing for an extended amount of time. Brody and Walter could have conversations and friendships like that, they knew, but neither of them wanted it. They both wanted to be weird and then forget it a second later, so their friendship worked. They had another friend, Duke, but he lived with his mother in fall and spring, his father in summer and winter. Brody and Walter wouldn't see Duke for another couple of months since fall had just started. Of course, the two had people at school that they were friendly enough with.

They could work with other people on projects, they were sometimes invited to parties or asked to hang out, they sat with people at lunch, but neither of them was really invested in any friendship aside from the one that they shared. They didn't talk much on the projects, they would 'consider' going to the parties, they never had time to hang out, and lunch was just lunch. It wasn't that they disliked their classmates, it was just that they were all very different people.

"So, what's happening in your life?" Brody asked, even though they'd just seen each other a few hours before.

"I hate school," Walter said, and Brody laughed. Walter always said he hated school. That was the first thing that he would say to most questions or even statements. "Seriously! It's killing me. How do you keep yourself so composed, dude? It's like you're not effected by anything."