author's note: this is my story for nanowrimo! i'm really hoping to finish this, haha. anywho, enjoy.

chapter one | twizzlers

I didn't even realize that dentists had groupies, but my mom certainly had a knack for teeth cleaners. She was a former lipstick model. So having flawless teeth was a necessity if you desired to make it in the world of fashion and cosmetics unless you wanted to be the before picture of a surgery/toothpaste/whitening/braces commercial. Before her pearly whites were plastered on Maybelline posters on bus stops, she was a child starlet. She played Penelope Sharp-sassy, spoiled, and six years old.

"Doesn't that look delicious?" Eunice warbled, saliva dribbling down her chin.

I winced and disapprovingly shook my head at my food-loving best friend. "It's loaded with sugar. It's a cavity waiting to happen."

Eunice rolled her eyes and a guttural noise came from the depths of her throat. "You don't always have to think about your teeth, Flossy. Just concentrate on the explosion of flavor in your mouth. In this case, it's chocolate."

"I do too pay attention to flavor!"

"The flavor of toothpaste and floss doesn't count."

"Drat."

"Try something other than mint. You'll love it. I'll even settle for mint chocolate chip."

"The chocolate chips ruin it. I wish most places sold smooth mint. It makes me feel fresher!"

Eunice ignored me to order her triple-chocolate-fudge doughnut. It was slathered in chocolate fudge and topped with milk chocolate curls. It was her usual order at the bakery on Clouds Street. After her "snack," or what I liked to call an "attack," she ordered a scoop of chocolate ice cream. In case you hadn't noticed, chocolate was her all-time favorite food in the world.

"Can I get you anything?" the employee asked.

I took one look at the glass showcase and shook my head. They all looked sticky and I couldn't put my teeth through that kind of torture even if it did look ridiculously easy for Eunice.

"Are you sure?" He was being stubborn.

"I'm sure."

"Can I interest you in a drink?" I didn't understand why he was pushing his goods on me. It's not like he got paid by the number of items he sold and there wasn't much competition for the oh-so-treasured Christmas bonus that was months away. It was only June.

"I'm all right."

It didn't occur to me that Eunice had gone to sit her butt by the window and that I simply could've just walked away. Instead, I remained at the counter like the bumbling idiot I was, insisting I didn't need anything.

"Then could you move? You're holding up the line."

I looked behind me and saw no one. "There is no line."

"Well, there might be if you wouldn't be blocking the merchandise," he snapped.

"I'm not blocking anything but your ungrateful-"

"Flossy!" Eunice sang loudly. "I am in need of your assistance over here!"

I glared at him, grabbed a handful of napkins, and stalked over to my tone-deaf friend. I plopped into the chair across from her. "What do you need now?"

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Carl over there."

"His name is Carl?"

"Oh, don't be such a priss. His name is far more common than yours. Anyways, what was I saying?"

"You were eavesdropping," I said, beating around the bush.

"I was not! I was being intuitive. It's not my fault if you're loud."

"I'm loud?"

"I'm so glad you've realized it! I didn't want to be rude and point it or or anything, but it sure is embarrassing when we're in public places."

Eunice could be a real hypocrite when she wanted to be.

"Did you really need anything?"

"Oh. No. I thought you would want help getting yourself out of that mess."

"I wasn't in a mess!"

"Well, you sure made one. You better hope he doesn't become a regular because I can't come here when he's working."

"Why not?"

"Because he'll think I'm weird!"

"You are weird, Eunice."

"You're the only person that thinks I'm weird, and that's only because you don't understand me."

That was complete baloney. While I did think she was a peculiar being, others (and by others I mean everyone) shared my opinion of her. The difference between them and me was that I found her odd qualities somewhat alluring. I knew Eunice like the back of my hand, but there wasn't much to get. She had an addiction to chocolate-which she claimed that she could stop anytime she wanted, but I don't think she understands that addicts don't want to stop. Her parents want her to become a pilot like her late grandmother, but she couldn't climb the ladder to her cabin bunk during camp last summer.

"You're right, Eunice. I don't understand you."

"It's okay if you don't understand me because I can't understand you. How can you hate chocolate?"

We were having this conversation again. I swear we have it at least thrice a week.

"For the gazillionth time, Eunice, I don't hate chocolate! I hate what it does to me."

"What? Make you feel like you're in Heaven?"

"If I wanted to go to Heaven, I would just jump off a bridge."

"What makes you think you won't go to Hell?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You're not exactly a saint."

"I'm not a demon, either!"

Eunice shrugged and scraped the plate clean of remnants of chocolate frosting that escaped the pastry. "Maybe you'll spend your afterlife in purgatory. Or you could be lucky enough to roam Earth! You could totally haunt people, Flossy. Promise me you'll haunt me if you die first?"

No one in their right mind would wish a ghost upon themselves. "You're so weird, Eunice."

"I know."

---

"Are you serious?" I gaped at my parents, slack-jawed. "I get to work there?'

"You'll only be at the front desk, so don't get too excited," my dad cautioned.

I would've preferred to be in the back where all the action happened, but at least I would be in the office. Still, I couldn't hide the disappointment that was rapidly seeping into my expression.

"Don't be so bummed," Mom said. "You can learn the business sides of things now and then train to become a dentist. Think of yourself as an intern, Flossy. Doesn't the sound of that just tickle your toes?"

"Sure, Mom..."

"You don't even have to think of it as an internship, Flossy. We'll even pay you! You'll have to work your way up to the big bucks, of course."

As appealing as having my own money to spend was, I wasn't sure if I wanted to work as a secretary or whatever the person at the desk was called.

"Thanks, Dad." I smiled. "That sounds good."

"And hey-if I have time, maybe I can train you a bit on the simpler tools. That way you'll have an advantage by the time you make it to dental school. I bet you'll get all sorts of job offers by the time you graduate. There's no doubt in my mind that you'll pass with flying colors."

I could see it now. I would start out working for someone else's practice, and then I'd earn the loyalty of clients who would follow me to my very own office. The future looked marvelous. I wish it was the present.

"When do I start?"

Dad smiled proudly and answered with, "As soon as you want."

---

Alfie was in ecstasy. He couldn't fathom or dream up a better place than Marty's Candy Emporium. While he hated living in Pinto with every fiber of his being, this was the one place that kept him from straying to a city far, far away from here. A city where there were actually interesting people, assuming they existed. For all he knew they could be a figment of his imagination or be a branch on his tree of false hope.

He had the opportunity to travel the world with his parents, but he politely declined their offer. Instead, he suffered through mornings, afternoons, and evenings with his aunt and uncle who, by the way, were expecting triplets in a couple of weeks. But babies were unpredictable, so they could come at any moment. The middle months of Aunt Lorraine's pregnancy were easy compared to the beginning and now. When they found out they were having three children, they went ballistic wondering how they would afford to care for all of them.

Uncle Bobby worked at a comic book store on East Blanchard, and except for the geeks that checked the store weekly for the latest quirky memorabilia and collectables, business was stale. Those nerds single-handedly kept it open. Even if a tourist stumbled across Pinto, it's not like they would have a vast selection to choose from. Since there was little profit and that was used to spend on the comics in demand, there was no room to create diversity and get the dorks interested in something else. It was a shame, really. It probably would've generated more income.

Aunt Lorraine looked like she was ready to pop. She looked like a swelled up Violet Beauregarde from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. She was basically a really big balloon with a tiny grape for a head.

Alfie jumped into the shotgun seat and groaned for the third time this week. If Aunt Lorraine kept up her delusional but completely understandable labor panics, Alfie would need to restock his stash of caffeine-loaded food more often. The refills were already pretty frequent at four times a week.

Whenever Aunt Lorraine tells Uncle Bobby she thinks the babies are coming, it sends him into a frenzy. He puts her into a wheelchair that they borrowed from Fran, a neighbor who learned to walk a year ago, and carts her out the door, up a wooden plank he crafted himself, and into the trunk of a creepy, white van that's been in Alfie's family for who-knows-how-many generations. Uncle Bobby insists on using the wheelchair to carry Aunt Lorraine around because it's more convenient. At the pace she waddles, she'd give birth on the front lawn.

Uncle Bobby would strap Aunt Lorraine in-safety first-and ask in a panicky voice if I've grabbed her bag. The small duffel bag would sit beside my croc-covered feet. "Relax, Uncle. I've already grabbed it."

He would exhale a breath relief that would be brief because a second later, he would receive a jolt of anxiety from Aunt Lorraine's bulging stomach. He would hop into the driver's seat and drive approximately two miles to the hospital. Then he would burst through the doors and scream, "My wife is in labor!"

For the most part, the night staff at the hospital was consistent. The Bells got to know them pretty well and Aunt Lorraine was now known as "The Lady Who Cried Labor." The doctor would reassure them that the babies were doing perfectly fine and that they weren't ready to come out yet.

Needless to say, they were molding Alfie into an insomniac.

"Ah, Alfie. You're back again?" the old man at the front counter asked him. "But you were here just yesterday."

Alfie smiled. He wondered when the old man would catch on that he intended to be a regular. "I know, sir."

"Well, no matter. See anything you like?"

Alfie thought that was a silly question. Of course he saw something he liked. In fact, everything in sight looked scrumptious and made his mouth water. If he won the lottery, he would buy every morsel of candy in the shop. He would even lug it home if he had to. He would do it happily because the thought of someone's slimy fingers and DNA and germs all over his precious treat sent current of anger through him. There was no doubt the movers would sneak a piece into their mouth, which only made him more furious.

It was a known fact. Alfie didn't like to share, and often enough, he didn't.

"Honestly, Alfie. You're going to wreck your teeth," Aunt Lorraine tutted.

Alfie figured if they haven't already been wrecked by the amount of candy he had already consumed in his lifetime-including biting on several jawbreakers-, they would be just fine. His mother always told him he had strong teeth. He never heard it from an actual professional, but that's only because he stopped going to the dentist and the doctor when he reached puberty. It was then that his parents started saving up for their world trip.

"No I'm not."

"Don't sass me, young man."

"All right," Alfie replied, munching on four Twizzler sticks.

Later that night, Alfie overheard his aunt telling Uncle Bobby that they needed to help him get his act together. She felt like Alfie would be a bad influence on the babies. Jokingly, Uncle Bobby suggested sending him to boot camp. Aunt Lorraine mulled it over and said she'd take it into consideration. It paralyzed Alfie with fear, but that's not what scared him the most. He didn't think boot camp allowed sugary foods, at least not the kind he was used to. High and empty calories were his thing. It was made Alfie, well, Alfie.

The next morning, Alfie kept his snacking to a minimal in front of his relatives, which was difficult considering they were always around. His aunt occasionally grumbled about how he was always in his room, which was true, so loitering in the kitchen and living room felt odd to him. He didn't think that he had any behavioral issues he needed to improve on. He mostly stuck to himself.

It's not like Alfie was a loner. Like all humans, he needed companionship. It's just that the need wasn't as strong as those around him, like Aunt Lorraine. He wasn't the popular boy at school, but he did have friends. There was Fran from down the street, Wally from Spanish class, and Jeanette from the hallway by the art room. He didn't see them much during the summer, though.

Fran came over once in awhile and she brought cookies with her. They would sit on the swing on the front porch that squeaked whenever it swung past its bounds. Most of the time, it would be seven when she came over because she worked at the grocery store. Their conversations all started with Alfie raving about her cookies and ending with Fran commenting on the shape of the moon.

"That's called a waxing crescent," Fran informed Alfie smartly.

Fran wanted to be a astrologist, but Alfie doubted her dream would ever come true. After all, no one in Pinto ever really fulfilled their biggest wishes. That is, unless you wanted to live in a dead end town with your greatest thrill and sense of achievement came from the weekly check from the government.

"Why's it called a waxing crescent?" Alfie pondered, stuffing another cookie in his mouth. Fran had made Snickerdoodles today.

Fran shrugged. "I dunno."

"Is it hairy? Is that why it needs to wax?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Alf. Moons can't grow hair."

"So they're bald."

Alfie was just acting dumb around Fran. He knew that the moon was a pile of rock that the sun illuminated at night. He figured he might as well get some joy out of Fran's somewhat monotonous factoids.

"There's also a waxing gibbous."

"Gibbous," Alfie repeated. "What a funny sounding word."

Alfie yawned, and so did Fran. "I best be getting home."

"Night, Fran."

"Goodnight, Alfie."