You've read about Lloyd's moody teen and her sisters. Now, meet Kai's troublesome duo.

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"Flame, sit still!"

"Dad, I don't want that hairstyle!"

"It'll look so good once I'm done. Trust me."

"Just because something looks good on you doesn't mean others have to like it too."

"Flame!"

"Moooooom! Dad's being bossy again!"

"Leave Damien alone, Kai," Mom sighed as she siezed the hairbrush from Dad and worked on my brother's red mass of hair instead.

Dad had been trying to get Damien to make his hair look like his but Flamey didn't like spikes sticking out from his unruly mop. His hair are already redder than a hot iron. They would look like his head was on fire if he ever tried Dad's style.

I, on the other hand, adore my father's cool spikes. I've loved them ever since I can remember. I love them so much that once, when I was seven, I used Dad's entire box of hair-gel and lathered my brown tresses in that stuff. One way or another, I had managed to construct spikes just like my dad.

He was so proud, he proposed we do a little daddy-daughter photoshoot to which I agreed immediately.

The photoshoot only lasted a few minutes when Mom came rushing into the room and screamed maniacally at my hair. She had to wash it several times to get rid of the gel. I wasn't allowed near Dad's stock of hair-gel ever since.

I saw Dad pouting in the corner while Damien had his hair made. I still don't understand what's the point of him preening his hair. All he does is wait for Mom to finish brushing down his bomb of red before he ruffles it all up again.

Mom's fine with it. Dad isn't.

"You look like a tramp, Flame," I heard my father say. I could see Damien roll his eyes as he fidgeted with his watch. Dad turned towards me, silently ordering me to back him up before asking out loud, "Doesn't he look like a tramp, Fire?"

I opened my mouth to say that he had always looked like a tramp but right now he looked like a tramp who got shocked with an electric taser. However, my brother beat me to it.

"Tramp or no tramp," Damien muttered, folding his arms, "at least I don't look like a walking Bunsen burner."

I'll admit, he did have a point.

"And I'm sure Irene will say I look like a sub-standard cactus."

I smirked as I let out a dramatic gasp, placing my hand over my chest. I began twirling a strand of my hair around my finger and tried to appear as an innocent little angel. "You know me so well, bro."

Damien stuck his tongue out at me and I replied him with the same gesture. Not very sophisticated, I know.

"Stop it, you two." Mom bent down to grab the cushions that had fallen from off the couch during Damien's struggle with Dad. She let out a low groan as she straightened up, looking weary and tired. Her red hair were tied up in a messy bun while she sported a loose gray sweater and trousers. And she never wore those unless she was feeling down.

She had been exhausting herself at home and had been working overtime at her restaurant. Sometimes I think the three of us need to give my mother a break and try to act mature. Yes, I'm including Dad in it too.

I'd make her a nice warm bowl of noodles if it weren't for my horrendous cooking. Dad says I can almost beat Uncle Cole in a cook-off for ghastly made food.

"Time for homework, Flame," Mom reminded my brother who scoffed indignantly in response. What a lazy loser.

"Stop calling me that!" Damien whined, sluggishly swinging his arms all about himself to further prove his disagreement.

I get it. I don't like being addressed by Fire either. But now it's an official thing and half of our family and family friends call us by those names. Even my crush calls me Fire! How embarrassing is that!

Okay, maybe Justin has been calling me Fire way before he became my crush but I still wince at the name whenever we visit the Brookstones.

It was my father's brilliantly awful idea to bless his kids with such stereotypical, fire-related nicknames.

And it all started when Damien was born.

I think I was two and a half around that time and I was super peeved at my parents because they went and had another baby. Could you blame me? It was a total shock. Especially when Dad convinced me that Mom's belly was only big because she was eating a lot of food.

Like, puh-lease. As if I wasn't perfect enough for them.

Anyway, I was poking my newborn brother from all sides because I didn't like the way he was hogging my mother's lap while she and Dad were coming up with a name for him.

I recommended that we name him 'Puke' since he kept throwing up all over Dad's hair but they completely ignored my suggestion.

Mom decided they were gonna call him Damien and I begrudgingly agreed. That's when Dad perked up with excitement. He immediately took my brother from Mom and held him up in the air as if he was baby Simba.

When my mom asked what had gotten into his head this time, Dad said that he was going to name his son Flamien. Of course, Mom rejected him. But my father wasn't gonna stop there.

"And Irene can go by Firene!" He had exclaimed. He boasted that no one could come up with more intelligent names than these but after a few years, I wanted to know who in their right mind would designate his children as such.

Mom wasn't going to hear of it so she kept saying "No!" to everything my father proposed. After quite an argument, they came to a decision that "Firene" and "Flamien" could be our pet names, leaving "Irene" and "Damien" as the real deal.

Over the years, those nicknames shortened to Fire and Flame and that's what Dad calls us most of the time. He only calls us by our real names when he's angry or when we're at someplace official. Mom rarely uses the nicknames since she was never in the favor of them in the first place.

Me and Damien are used to it though. That's why we complain about it once in a blue moon.

The reason to tell you this pointless story was to conclude that my father's not right in the head. Period.

I got pulled out of my little trip down memory lane when I felt something being pushed into my hands. I looked around to see Dad standing over me, trying to stuff my phone into my grasp.

"What?" I mouthed once I realized someone was on the other end.

"It's Justin," Dad smirked, making me go red in the face. My father's the only one in my family who knows about my crush on Uncle Cole's son and he's surprisingly chill with it.

Considering what he did to my Aunt Nya and her husband, I expected Dad to lock me up in a high security bunker and send hefty bulldogs after Justin.

I hesitantly took the phone from my father, rolling my eyes when he winked and whispered, "Go get him, Fire."

I couldn't help but shake my head and smile as he walked out of the room. He may not be right in the head but you gotta admit, he's the best daddy ever. I mean, many fathers don't allow their daughters to even hang out with guys, right?

"Hello?" Justin's voice issued from the device in my hand.

I gave an internal squeal, turning around to plop down onto the couch, ready to spend the rest of the afternoon chatting with Justin. I stopped dead when I saw my brother looking at me with his mouth hanging wide open.

"Dude," he muttered, astonished. "You have a crush on Justin?!"

"Not so loud!" I whisper-shouted at Damien, frantically gesturing at the phone.

I could see an evil gleam in his eyes but by the time I realized what he was going to do, it was too late. Damien snatched the phone from my hands and sprinted out of the room, yelling stuff about my being in love with Justin out loud.

I felt my legs become stiff and jellyish at the same time. With my brother screaming like his hair was on fire (snort), Justin probably heard everything.

Oh, crud!

I had no choice but to let my natural instincts kick in. Instantaneously, I hollered my brother's name down the hall, taking off after him and preparing myself to choke him till he passed out if necessary.

Fire out! And pray for Damien's well being . . .

On second thought, don't do that.

Initiate "mic drop" sequence.

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Yesssssss! Kai's daughter has a crush on Cole's son! Weird, right? I thought so too but now there's no changing my mind. It's too late!

MUWAHAHAHAHAHA!