The Chronicles of James Pete Smith and Alysia Urie-Ross

"Wake up; the house is on fire, and the cat's caught in the dryer. Philosophy's a liar when your home is your headstone."
-- 'Deadbeat Holiday' by Green Day

The first indicator that something was terribly wrong was the fact that it was 4:45--two hours after school had gotten out--and Donna wasn't pulled up to the curve, yelling at me to get into the car. I bit my lip and pulled out my phone, then hooked to the nearest signal and checked to see if she'd texted me. Unlikely--whenever Donna had something to tell me, she'd tell me on the way to school. But who knew? Something could have come up and she might have texted me.

Nothing from Donna.

Five texts from Ally.

Every one of them went something like, "holy shit, Jimmy, where the hell are you?" and got increasingly more frantic. I bit my lip harder as I pulled up a new text to her.
I'm ok, I typed. Donnas not here yet. Worried bout that. Whats wrong?

Her reply was almost immediate: yeah um you're still at school?

Yea I am. Right where I was before you left. I bit my lip, awaiting her response. I had a very, very bad feeling--I'd never seen Ally acting so nervous. Maybe I was reading too far into the texts, but I couldn't help but worry. What had happened that made her so anxious to get in contact with me?

I'll be there in a few, her answer read.

I raised an eyebrow. Donna will kill me if I go over after school.

She might not be able to :)
Ally's statement confused me more than anything else. What had happened that I had missed? More than anything, I hated being out of the loop. And how did I feel, right then? Completely out of the fucking loop. Ally could be beyond infuriating sometimes.

Ally didn't reply to any of my texts after that. I just sat back and assumed that she'd lost signal or something. Or maybe she didn't want to reveal anything, so she stopped before she gave something away to me. I waited and, ten minutes later, my uncle Brendon's car pulled up, settling right on the curb. Reaching behind me, I grabbed my backpack and made sure its straps were both over my shoulder. Then I proceeded to the small, white car and took a seat in the backseat. Ally was already there, tense. I noticed that uncle Brendon's hands were wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel that his knuckles were white.

"Hey," I said in hushed tones. Ally smiled and nodded.

"What's the Smiths' address, Jimmy?" Brendon asked from the front seat. He started driving out of the parking lot, around the maze of concrete posts and traffic cones. It took me a minute to remember it--I didn't think of it as home, it had never been home, and I never made a point to remember our address--but once I did, Brendon nodded and headed toward the small neighborhood. I glanced at Ally and she looked away, but she nodded to her phone. This was going to be a text conversation, then.

What happened? I asked, typing faster than I ever had before. Are my dads ok?

Barely. she answered, biting her lip as she typed.

What happened? I asked again, my typing becoming fast and loud. My heart kept beating faster and faster. My hands were shaking and my breaths were getting unsteady. I breathed in and out, trying to get my breaths deep and even. It was hard for anything to be even for me.

Biebermort happened was the first text I got from Ally. Then, a few seconds later, I got a second text: Actually Gen Ke$ha and her Animal Corps.

What the fuck? I texted back. Of course I knew General Ke$ha--who didn't? She was one of the first to support Lord Biebermort, after Cyrus--but the Animal Corps? I'd never heard of them, and they definitely sounded like bad news.

There was a pause, then I received Ally's response: Part of Biebermort's great army.

What did they do? I asked.

Tried to burn down your house. Probably did more than that. Ally looked at me, her eyes saying something that I couldn't figure out. There was something sad in them, at the very least. I nodded at her before replying.

Oh.
That was really the only thing I could say.

That's what were doing here, she replied just as we took a left turn into the lane leading into the Smiths' neighborhood.

It was actually a gated community. Donna liked it there because it made her sound ridiculously rich when she mentioned its name. Hollyhill Gated was known for being full of rich people with perfect lawns.

"What's the gate code?" Brendon asked as we pulled up next to the small box.

"Pound one nine four six," I replied, staring out my window and trying not to think. That's when I noticed the smoke spiraling from someplace that was a few turns into the neighborhood--right around where the Smiths' house was. Had been? I swallowed a hard lump in my throat and kept my eyes on the grey against the calm blue sky.

"Address?" Brendon asked. I struggled to say it as we drove closer. I directed him--right, left, left, right--to the street that had been my view every day for a year and a half. In the middle of it, between two familiar houses, there was a pile of charred rubble. Number 1314, East Terracotta Drive was no more.

"Oh," I said softly, looking at it. There were a few cars stationed around the sidewalk--no, not cars. There were two full-scale firetrucks, a couple of ambulances, and a few real, flashing police cars. They were pushing one gurney into the back of a smaller ambulance. I felt sick as I surveyed the scene. "I... probably need to talk to someone." Nothing felt real, especially not my head. Those were the Smiths in those ambulances. Judging by the remains of the house--how bad it all looked--I didn't think they would survive the evening.

"I'll go with you," Ally offered. I nodded and opened the door, stepping out onto the street. Everything was floating and the asphalt was like rubber to me. Ally followed me out and grabbed my hand, holding it firmly as we walked to the scene.

A tall, tired-looking officer stepped in front of us as we walked onto the sidewalk. "I'm sorry, kids, this is no place for you to be."

"I'm Jimmy Smith," I blurted out, feeling more than a little stupid afterward. "Um. I'm Harry and Donna's adopted son?"

He changed his expression and looked more solemn than anything. "We've been looking for you... Ms. Winters would like to speak with you."

"Ms. Winters?" I asked, running a hand through my hair.

The officer started walking toward one of the parked cars. Getting the sense that he wanted me to follow him, I did--bringing Ally with me. He opened a door to the back seat of his car and a short, older woman stepped out. Her hair--mostly brown, but white at the roots--was pulled back in an impeccable bun and she seemed very, very composed.

"Ah, so you're the young Mr. Smith?" she asked me, holding out her hand. I shook it, my own hand trembling from nerves. "I'm Ms. Winters and I need to talk to you about your custody, considering the fact that your parents both perished in this fire."

I swallowed again. "Alright." Ally squeezed my hand to relieve some of the tension. So they were dead. Absolutely, definitely dead. And there was no going back on that. I felt sicker than I expected I ever would. Even though I fantasized their deaths on more than one occasion, I didn't want it to happen. They were innocent. And if it had been the Animal Corps, trying to kill me...
The Smiths had never been involved with the Believers. They didn't deserve this.

Ms. Winters pulled a folder out of her bag and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "In the original documentation that Harry and Donna Smith signed, there was a clause that stated that, in the event of their deaths while you're still a minor, custody of yourself would be turned back to your biological parents." She paused, and I could sense how awkward she felt. "Do you know who your biological parents are?"

"Yeah, I do," I answered, nodding. She let out a breath, visibly relaxing. I guessed that it would be pretty awkward for her to have to explain to someone who their biological parents are if their biological parents were two men who happened to be famous. Right.

"Conveniently, they live nearby. The procedure, then, would be simple, due to this clause." Ms. Winters nodded at the officer, who stepped into the car, taking the driver's seat. "It would be a simple signature from each of them--then processing time, if you would like to change your legal name to James Wentz."

I nodded. "I'd like that, yeah."

She smiled at me. "Then our next stop is their house. We'll discuss what will happen, there."

"Alright. Ally's dad can drive me." I pointed to Ally when I said her name.

"Yeah, Ms. Winters," Ally said, "Daddy knows the way there. They're like my uncles, pretty much." She smiled her perfect, angelic smile and nodded back at her car. Ms. Winters nodded back at her and said something to the officer through the window.

"Then I'll see you two there," she replied, opening the door and climbing into the police car again. Ally lead me back to her car and as soon as I sat down in the backseat, what strength I'd had deserted me. I closed my eyes, leaning back in the comfortable seat. Everything was numb and stifling. Ally grabbed my hand again and squeezed.

"You'll move into their house, you know that, right?" Ally asked me in a whisper against my ear. There was a hint of glee in her voice--she was definitely trying to cheer me up.

"Yeah," I said to the window, my breath fogging up the glass.

"You don't have to deal with them, ever again. Donna can't yell at you. You don't have to lie just to talk to your dads or to see me. It's gonna get a lot better, isn't it?"

"Yeah. In theory." I sighed and looked out the window, watching houses and trees zoom past as we drove to my dads' house. My house, now. "I'm not gonna miss them, I guess," I said after a moment of thinking. "I feel bad that they died, though..."

"Why?" Ally sounded incredulous. "They were awful to you, Jimmy. Maybe you couldn't see it like I did?"

"They died for me. They didn't do anything to deserve it, Ally."

She was about to reply when the car jolted to a stop in front of my house. I got out first, holding the door for Ally. Behind us, the police car parked, too, and Ms. Winters stepped out.

"This is my house," I told her, pointing to it. "Both of my dads should be here."

She nodded at me and walked to the door, ringing the doorbell. I stayed where I was by the car, unsure of what to do. Ally stood next to me and grabbed my hand again.

"I'm glad my dads are okay, at least," I said, staring at the house. I'd live there, permanently. No-one could make me go away, and nothing felt better than that.

"You're gonna have to thank our uncle for that," she replied.

I recalled that two of my (many) uncles--Bill and Gabe--had flown in the other morning and had been staying at my dads'. Interestingly enough, both of my dads had really been into the whole magic lessons idea. From what Ally had said, uncles Brendon and Ryan had been a little hesitant--but they did agree to help make it happen.

"Dad told me he cast some defensive spell that kept them out, then fought them off."

"Single-handedly?" I asked, eyes wide as I imagined this fight. At that point, I didn't know uncle Bill very well, but I'd heard stories, stories that no-one else knew. Nothing about the seven years he'd spent in Europe, no contact with anyone, but stories from before and after that.

"Yeah!" Ally's eyes gleamed with excitement.

"How did he do that?" I said in disbelief.

And then, there he was. He brushed past Ally, walking toward the door. "I've learned some about the Defense Against the Dark Arts during my travels abroad," he said, a strangely authentic English accent settling over the words Defense Against the Dark Arts. He idly held a long, thin stick in his hand--I thought it might be his wand, perhaps, then I thought that was silly of me to think. He couldn't be a wizard, like, a Harry Potter-style wizard.

Both of us stared as he walked into the house, calm and casual, like he hadn't recently defeated part of an army with just his wand.

"If he's going to be teaching us," I said, "then Biebermort is fucked."