Chapter One

SSSSS

Joanna Dais, sixteen years of age and an awful pessimist, stretched her arms above her head, and her legs beneath her. Well, she stretched as well as she could, considering she was crammed into a small buggy with four other people and their entire luggage for a five-week holiday.

She sighed, almost dramatically. On her lap, Joanna had two sleeping bags, and her knees were bent at acute angels on top of a suitcase. Next to her sat her younger brother Jason, and then next to him was the even younger Jack. Much to her eternal chagrin, her parents had an obsession with 'j' names. In the front seat sat her mother, Sarah, who was attempting to meditate, even though she had beach bags in a teetering stack on her lap. Driving was Joanna's father, Zac, who was the only member of the family without bags on him, because he needed to concentrate on the road. Even without seeing it, Joanna knew that the roof rack on the car was stacked high with various assortments, and that their incredibly small boot was equally full.

She knew this because every year, for five of the six precious weeks of summer holiday the family received, they traveled to a beach house. And not just any beach house. Oh no, this was the most run down, abused, cockroach infested beach house probably in existence. It was situated in the middle of a beautiful, leech and tic filled forest, right on the shore of a calming, noisy and unpredictable beach. There were local shops, and a few other equally terrible beach houses in the area… but that was it. Hence the huge box of books (fantasy and realism) that Joanna had piled onto Jacks' lap. She had to have something to keep her entertained for 35 days, which equaled 840 hours, which was 50400 minutes. So, in the box on Jack's lap was 50400 minutes worth of reading. Or close to, anyway.

"I might have to re-read a few," Joanna mumbled under her breath, not even heard over the serenade of 'serene rainforest noises' on tape. Her mother's meditative techniques involved getting in touch with nature. Or at least, the electronic version of. Just then, Jason let out a huge breath, snoring loudly into her ear.

Joanna cursed for the millionth time the fact that her parents refused to buy a bigger car, maybe even one with proper air conditioning. But despite all her pleas, they didn't 'want to expand' until they 'needed to.' Her parents were weird in this way. Also weird in the way that they made their three children call them by their first names, and that Joanna, Jason and Jack were probably the only three children in the country who had never had jelly frogs, due to the gelatin. Joanna's parents were vegetarian. Joanna's parents were, to all appearances, hippy. In Joanna's mind, this sucked.

Three hours later, long after her mini battery fan had broken, Joanna and her family pulled up in front of the cockroach infested beach house, which looked worse than ever. The paint was peeling off the weatherboard and the house seemed to tilt slightly to one side. All that was left of the doorknocker was a rusty nail, and the knocker itself was probably hidden in the over grown grass and shrubs, that were planted right up to the door. The only path was a neglected concrete one, with weeds pushing through the cracks. Or pushing through what was left of the path… Now it was more weed that anything else.

Sarah clapped her hands and started issuing orders. Zac was to carry clothing, Jack and Jason the sleeping bags, and her and Joanna would handle the rest. Joanna considered trying to get her father to carry her extremely heavy box of books, but decided against it. If she carried that, it would mean she wouldn't have to carry the cutlery and food tray, which was even heavier (if that was possible). Joanna walked around to her brother's side, and hoisted up the books into her arms. She turned around, only to be face to face with her mother, who had somehow managed to sneak up behind her. She looked at her daughter seriously, her expression oddly grave.

"Honey, I know you don't like these holidays, but try to enjoy yourself. Every year we come here you do nothing but read…"

Jo almost laughed. That was what her mother was so worried about? Her reading too much? However, the barb saying 'you have no social life' struck, and she bristled.

"I also surf," Joanna said defensively. Her mother sighed sadly, as if Joanna had just announced she was running away and going to join the circus. Actually, she thought ruefully, my parents would probably like that.

"But Jo-Jo," her mother persisted, using the nickname Joanna hated, "There are always lots of kids your age here… Why don't you try to befriend some of them?"

Oh, Mum. If only you knew. Befriending just isn't what it used to be, Joanna thought. Instead she said, "I'm going for a walk." Her mother looked surprised at the sudden change of conversation for a second, and opened her mouth as if to remind Jo she was helping with the luggage, but then thought better of it.

"Okay then. Be back soon." Sarah's expression softened, and Jo carried the books inside, scuffing over the worn, cheap carpet, before grabbing a hat and walking out the back door. She called a goodbye to her family as she left, and heard their shouted replies as the screen door creaked shut.

As she walked down to the beach, some changes were apparent in the suburb, if that was what you would call it. The once tiny shops were now larger, and now had an added ice-creamery. There were new houses popping up, and in the distance it looked as if apartments were being built. Joanna sighed as she realized that the beach and holiday destination she knew would soon be gone. Although she had no overwhelming love for this beach, it was saddening to think it would soon be as crowded as any other high-rise city bay. Most of the new houses seemed pretty normal, but one in particular stood out. It was a monstrosity of a mansion, large and with no yard space. It was obvious the house/mansion/mega-sun-blocker had been built to utilize that property for house areas as much as possible.

The house was practically a giant cube.

Joanna remembered the cute little cottage that had used to be there, and wondered sadly what had happened the garden obsessed little old lady who had lived there. Probably died. There was a family just at the side of the house, unpacking a huge car that had probably cost as much as the mansion itself. A teenage boy, who looked about her age, was standing admiring the view. He had brown eyes and a thatch of thick, shaggy brown hair. He saw her, and their eyes caught. His face remained in different, but Joanna shot him a death stare. Anyone who belonged to a family who had built this monstrosity deserved to die.

Besides, she was insanely jealous. His car obviously had air conditioning.

SSSSS

Morgan stepped out of his car and breathed in the fresh air appreciatively. In front of him stood a beach house that was more of a mansion, and a clear blue sea, splattered with white froth. It was kind of picturesque, really. His parents had just built this beach house over the past year, after knocking down a tiny shack that used to be there. In his opinion, it was best that the shack had gone. It had ruined the entire appearance of the property, and as if he would have stayed in something like that anyway. He could hear his parents starting to unpack the car, but he stood staring at the ocean for a few seconds longer.

Just then, a girl who looked only a bit younger than him walked past. She had vibrant red hair, and her eyes were almost too large for her face, as was her mouth. She had a small nose, and a scattering of freckles. Her over all appearance was extremely striking and dramatic, the kind of face you're bound to remember. Morgan considered her pretty, in a strange kind of way.

I wouldn't mind getting to know her, he thought, his mind already skipping along the lines of a summer holiday fling. She was staring steadily at the house, probably admiring it. It was a nice piece of architecture after all. The girl averted her gaze, and then caught his eye. Morgan kept staring ahead, acting nonchalant. Girls dug that 'hard to get' stuff.

Her expression instantly changed, from a look of wistful remembrance to burning dislike.

Maybe chicks didn't dig that "cool" thing, after all.

She glared at him a few seconds longer, leaving Morgan confused and slightly pissed off. He wasn't used to people hating him on sight.

Bitch, much?

He scowled, and turned to help his parents unpack the car. As if he cared what some uncool stranger thought anyway. Which she obviously was. Uncool. She was obviously uncool.

Morgan shook his head. He needed to work on that whole 'internal monologue' thing.