The window whined making Harper wince at the sound. She paused, waiting to hear she had been detected. A deep snore came from inside and she let out an inaudible breath. Inching the window up, she managed to get an opening big enough for her small frame. She climbed in and rested her feet on the soft carpeting. The room was pitch black and the occupant remained slumbering. The place smelled woodsy and something she could only describe as Søren.

Holding her breath, she crossed the room and climbed onto the bed. Søren remained unaware of his impending doom.

With a great bounce she yelled, "Wake up cousin, we're going to the zoo!" She proceeded to jump on the mattress.

Søren jerked awake. "Son of sea turtle! Harper, what the heck are you doing?"

Bleary eyed, he tried to hit her legs but she danced out of reach, all the time laughing at his feeble efforts. After a second of blind flailing he gave up and collapsed back onto his bed, laying one arm over his eyes.

Harper flopped on to the bed beside him, wearing an impish grin. Side by side the cousins were a vast contrast, light and dark. Soft blonde hair framed Harper's snapping blue eyes, straight nose, and cherub face. The countenance as a whole presented a sweet tableau. A mask that conveniently concealed a devious and quick witted mind. On the other hand Søren had tan skin, a well defined face with hazel eyes and a mess of short brown hair. It was a collection of attributes he never failed to use to his advantage.

"Why must you torture me so?" he asked.

"Because Tall One, it is officially our time! The first day of a summer where we remain unbound by the laws that govern adults! Free from the restraints of high school mediocrity! Lifted from the ties of the confining institution the world refers to as education! Graduates of life and scholars of all!"

"And the last two days don't count because...?"

She slapped his stomach. "Because it was the weekend! Now is the true beginning of our liberation from high school! We enter the limbo of graduates but not yet college attendees. We face the beautiful dilemma of a summer where no restrictions stop us and real life has yet begun."

"Yes, and I had planned to spend that new found freedom in the pleasant company of my bed and a good dream. Too bad I am related to a nightmare."

Drunk on the prospect of the future, Harper laughed, the sound skipping around the olive green room. The edge of Søren's mouth twitched, his bad mood brief and his sleep slipping away.

"Where do we plan to start this endeavor of ours?"

Harper scrambled to her feet, standing over him. "The only logical place a true adventure should begin! Breakfast my good lad!"

Pushing aside his blankets, Søren got out of bed, flipping on the light. The room was made up of dark furniture and a sense of a methodical and intelligent owner.

"Am I allowed to get dressed or will you be hog tying me and dragging me to breakfast."

"Best to let you get dressed," she said. "I haven't hogged tied anyone in ages. It is a talent that if you don't keep up you lose."

"I've often heard that."

As Søren ducked into his closet Harper plopped down and sat cross legged on his bed. He emerged a moment later wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, running his hands through his wild hair. Harper cocked her head.

"That shirt looks familiar," she said.

"As I have no doubt all my clothes do to you."

She scampered off the bed and examined the shirt more closely. Nudging her aside, he walked to a mirror.

"That's Tristan's shirt," she said.

"That might possibly be true."

"You stole from The Uncle?" she gasped.

"Is it really stealing if you took it from his bag that he left here," he said, "but then he took back to his apartment which you followed him to and broke into to retrieve the shirt?"

"Yes, I believe that falls under theft in the Massachusetts state law."

Søren shrugged. "Alight, then I borrowed without asking."

"Borrow a ship while you were at it?"

"Working on it. Come on, Short One, time is wasting and we waste away each second."

Søren opened his door and gestured for her to lead. In the hallway, they paused listening. To what, they wouldn't know until they heard it. Silence was all that responded to their stalling.

"Do you think the quiet means your mom is writing or contemplating rearranging the entire house?" Harper asked.

"Better to make a run for it than wait and get roped into either plot."

Nodding like co-conspirators, they dashed down the curved staircase and made a break for the door. A day that wasn't yet bone melting hot welcomed them. It was as if the weather had hit snooze on Summer. The air was still tinged with a coolness that the city's occupants savored. Harper skipped down the steps with Søren trotting down next to her.

As they passed the next house, she glanced at it, wondering if her parents had already left for the office. Or what they called an office, which Harper saw more as a lounge/hide away. They crossed the Boston Common, Spring flowers finding final rest on the sidewalk and beneath feet.

At an intersection a bus passed before them with an ad across the side. It announced that New York Times best selling author and Pulitzer prize winner Beck Daniels had released a new book, Past Unknown. Harper stared at the image of the good looking man in his forties with blonde hair. Her father stared back at her with a quiet, reserved smile.

"Bleh! I really wish they would stop advertising the book," Harper said.

"I think his face sells the book almost as much as the quality of it does. Do you think he'll win the second Pulitzer?"

With a groan, Harper tossed her head back. "Murdering mittens I hope not!"

"What brings about this refusal to wish your father success, Short One?"

"Because if he wins then that means there's another banquet in his honor and it's full of people asking when I will follow in my family's footsteps and how they bet my first book will be just as amazing and they could really expect nothing less from a Daniels and really they already know it will be great because Leo had a best seller at nineteen and so any day now I should be popping out a novel that will stun the world."

Harper sucked in a large breath and then let it out.

"Oh is that all?" he asked. "In that case I hope he gets it."

Harper shoved Søren's shoulder. Laughing, he joined the crossing crowd. They were approaching a red brick building, with large windows bearded with flower boxes, when Harper halted, a bright grin coming into play. Søren looked back at her.

"Care to explain your abrupt halt in forward motion?" he asked.

"I spy an old man!"

Søren followed her gaze. The man in question was tall, fit, dressed in a tailored suit and looked as if time had frozen him in his thirties. The only clue to his actual age was the gray that was woven through his brown hair. Søren's smile mirror's Harper's

"Let's go see if he needs help crossing the street," Søren said.

Their uncle looked up from his phone at them. Instantly, his face dropped into a look of accusation.

"What do you delinquents want?" Tristan asked. "Or were you going to try and pick pocket me?"

"Like we would do that," Søren said.

"Because it wouldn't work," Tristan said.

"And we're not that stupid," Harper added.

"So your parents try to convince me," Tristan said, "but I'm still on the fence."

Søren crossed his arms, smiling. "It appears we have some fence smashing to do."

Tristan's only response was a look equivalent only to blank wall.

"You know, Søren. I take offense at the fact that he refers to as delinquents. We haven't committed a single crime in ages!"

"Eons," Søren said.

"Millenia."

Tristan glanced at Søren's shirt. "That's my shirt."

"We haven't committed a single crime in weeks," Harper said.

"Days," Søren corrected.

"Days," Harper amended.

They were treated to another classic flat look.

"Was there a reason you walked up to me," Tristan asked. "Or were you merely looking for a way to annoy me and incriminate yourselves?"

Harper and Søren exchanged another look, and beamed.

"Sounds like us!" Harper said.

Despite himself, Tristan's lips twitched at something that could possibly be a smile but psychologist were still debating over it. His phone rang and he answered it.

"Make it quick," he said, walking off.

The pair watched him but he never gave them a backwards glance as he disappeared into the wave of pedestrians.

"I don't care what the posters all over the city or our parents say, he's a CIA handler," Harper said. "Not a choreographer."

"I always thought drug king pin fit better," Søren said. "He wears suits."

Harper nodded at this sound logic. "You make a fair point."

Settled on their impressions of their untouchable uncle, they continued to the coffee shop. Outside, Søren smoothed down his shirt and inspected it for any bits of dirt.

"How do I look?" he asked.

"Charming, confident and cavalier," she said. "All in all like a man about to be rejected. For the hundredth time."

"That's what I thought as well. Let's go!"

Inside the scent of coffee was saturated in the air, along with a spike of something spicy. Besides impressionist paintings, the red brick walls were left bare. A bar with leather barstools took up one side while the other half was filled with round tables and plush, caramel colored couches and black arm chairs.

The place was humming with the murmur of voices, the ever-present grinding of coffee beans and the hiss of steamed milk against tin. When they stepped up to the bar a guy with dreadlocks tied back and broad face, glanced at them. He gave them a nod in greeting.

Harper leaned on the polished counter. She opened her mouth, but Søren cut her off.

"Is Emery here?" he asked.

Harper looked at him. "Oooh someone is feeling eager about hearing the word no!"

"I want to get it over with so I can enjoy my breakfast."

"I approve of this logic."

Zeke gave Søren a knowing smile. "She's in the back, but should be out in a minute."

As if called to the stage, a swinging door opened and a girl stepped out. Despite the fact that she had only an inch of hair, she was beautiful. She had a round face, dark chocolate brown eyes, full lips and dark skin that spoke of a Hispanic heritage.
She didn't see either of them, focused on balancing a tray. Steam rose from large mugs and sandwiches with cheese melting from the sides.

"Hello beautiful, need a hand with that?" Søren asked.

Emery tossed him a look that told him exactly where he could put his offer. Søren's smile didn't diminish in the slightest. Without a word, she walked away to deliver her tray of food.

"Does that count as your rejection for the day or do we have to wait?"

Søren held up his hand. "It's not a rejection until she says no."

Harper shrugged and looked at Zeke. "I'll order now, I know Emery to be efficient."

By the time Emery returned, Zeke had taken their orders. Without looking towards Søren, she began wiping down the bar.

"Emery, answer me this," he said.

She continued on with her task.

"Why won't you go out with me?" he asked.

She looked at him. "Because Søren, you're a baby."

"I would never question your incredible intelligence but you realize you're only six months older than me, right?"

She shrugged. "Makes no difference. You're still a high schooler."

"I graduated two days ago."

"Then you are a high school graduate. I only date college guys."

Søren made a flippant gesture to himself. "Then date me."

"Only college guys," Emery repeated.

"I'm heading to Harvard in the Fall. That clearly negates your argument not to date me."

Harper piped up. "Don't date him, Emery, he's a traitor to his own flesh and blood."

Søren around on her. "You understand that we had to split ways at some point in our lives, right?"

"Says who?! The universe saw it fit to make us born only seven hours apart. I don't see how college could have a stronger hold." Harper slammed her hand on the bar as if she were in a courtroom and driving home a point. "Witless walruses! Søren you can't stand in the way of the universe."

He echoed her gesture, hitting the bar with this fist. "I can and I am." He relaxed and shrugged. "Besides we're only separated by a river. Boston University is a simple jump across the Charles from Harvard."

"It may as well be the Atlantic for the concern you're showing for this abandonment!"

Zeke and Emery shared a look that said this type of scene was nothing new.

"I'm not abandoning you," Søren said. "We will still live next door to each other. It will change nothing."

"Yeah, or it will change everything," she said.

Søren laid his hands on her shoulders, the act as familiar to her as the hints of green in his eyes.

"Short One, you know that won't happen. Together until death, imprisonment or bankruptcy."

"So you're saying, 'We will chase the hands of time as the world lies in wait for their dreaded fate'," she said.

Søren grinned. "Poet?"

"Author. Everest Ipson."

"I like it."

The swinging door opened and a guy walked out, carrying a box. He eyed the scene.

"What's going on?" he asked, Emery.

She looked at him. "Your cousins are being themselves again."

Cole nodded and set down the box. Harper and Søren looked at him. He was two years older than them, with the looks that defined their mothers' family: dark brown hair, attractive features and hazel eyes.

Cole cut open the box and started pulling out bags of coffee.

"Where were you last night?" Harper asked.

"Where am I ever?" he asked, pulling down canisters to refill.

"Here," Harper said.

"A Berkley classroom," Søren said.

"Here."

"Tristan's couch."

"Here."

"A quiet room with a guitar."

"Here."

Cole looked at them as if even after living in the same city as them for the last two years he still hadn't gotten used to them. They stared back with questioning eyes.

"Which was it?" Harper asked.

"Classroom," he said, pouring out coffee beans. "I'm taking a summer class taught by Kade Mathew's."

Søren showed no sign that this name meant anything while Harper cocked her head.

"You mean like the leader singer of Hey Farewell, one of the top bands in America for the past twenty years?"

Cole gave a nod. "That's the one."

"I thought he was on tour?"

"He's going in the fall."

Emery stepped in front of them.

"Are you two going to order anything or just keep bothering Cole?" she asked.

"Emery," Søren said, "if you wanted me to talk to you all you had to do it say the word."

Her response was a flat look.

"Zeke already took our order," Harper said, bypassing another lengthy argument between her cousin and Emery.

Emery looked at her. "Go sit and we'll bring it to you."

"You specifically or-" Søren started.

Harper pushed him away from the bar. "You've already been rejected once, best to not get punched on top of it."

"Good point."

They took a table by the windows. Outside shoppers hurried between stores, loaded down with bags. Groups of giddy girls walked by clutching coffee cups. A trio of guys wearing faded college sweatshirts passed by.

Harper bounced in her chair, drumming her hands on the table.

"Alright," she said. "It's time to get serious about the future. And when I say future I only mean this summer. Ideas?"

Søren leaned on the table, his face eager. "I've had this thought."

"Only a single thought?" Harper said. "I'm slightly worried for your mental state as well as disappointed. Also if it really is just a single thought is it worth even hearing out?"

"You have complete permission to badger, bully and bash my thought if you don't like it."

Harper waved her hand to him. "Then by all means share, Tall One."

"You know how we plan to be writers?" Søren said.

"As it was destined the day we were born, yes."

"I'm thinking about doing things this summer that will fuel our futures."

Intrigued, Harper rested her arms on the table. For all the world they looked like two conspirators cooking something up.

"I say we make a list of things we've never done before and do it."

Søren leaned back like he had just made the most brilliant declaration. Harper stared at him, her face patronizing.

"That's it."

Smiling, Søren gave a single nod. "That's it."

"Søren that has to be the most cliché thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth. It's so cliché I now expect a famous musician to walk into this very coffee shop and hit on me."

Søren bent forward, his eyes determined.

"Think about it Harper, I'm not talking about outrageous things. I'm talking about things that we never did in high school because we weren't stupid enough to think it entertaining. Like parties, tattoos, brawls, dangerous events. Things as writers we would eventually write. Experiences that would play into our future works."

Harper twisted her lips, considering his words. "That sounds better. What do you have in mind?"

"A million things."

"And the first one is?"

A slow grin spread across his face. "How does going to a stupid party and getting drunk sound?"

"Like the worst idea ever."

"It does."

"Okay, let's do it!"

************************

Alrighty!

If you read Mr. Write then you know that Harper is Elliot and Beck's daughter and Søren is Cece and Milo's son. If you have then you've probably already read the other version of this first chapter as well. As you can see it different. Why? Long story, but I want to know, what do you think of this version?

I've written this first chapter three times now and have no clue how to feel about it anymore. So let me know what you think. Also just let me know if you think it's funny at all because I think my funny might be broken! Yes that is possible!

Vote, comment, follow or do whatever the monkey butts you want to do! Be free! Live wild! Chase butterflies!