Upshur County, Texas.

     That's where I am now. Regrettably. Why did it have to be here, of all the places in the States? I mean, really?

     I weave my way through the crowd, trying to find an area - no matter how small - where I can breathe. Then I pause to look around. I want nothing more than to go back to my home in Queensland. Australia. I didn't sign up for this one-horse town.

     Well, technically I did. I signed up to be an exchange student, and that's why I'm here. It wasn't my choice, though, to end up in Big Sandy. Why not a place like Hawaii, or Florida? I'd even pick New York over this place. I'm seriously regretting my decision. I was told nothing of the family I will be living with, besides the crazy amount of children they have. They should be easy to spot here, as the group is very big if all of them came.

     All of a sudden, I hear my name being called over the intercom system and instinctively, I look up. The voice goes on to tell me to meet the family at the security desk. But where is that? I scan the area, fearing that it will be hard to find, but when I turn around, I see a sign above a group of people standing close to each other that says, “SECURITY DESK” in big red letters with a blue arrow pointing down. Oh. I look back down at them, knowing for certain that they are the family I will be staying with, but a crowd has formed in front of me. Once again, I make my way through it, bumping into several people in the process.

     “Ugh!” flies out of my mouth and the stranger's I bumped into.

     “I am so sorry, Miss,” says a man as he bends down to pick up the items that fell out of his arms. He then leaves without another word, not seeming sorry at all as he leaves me with my sketchpad, papers and many pencils to pick up.

     I groan as I get onto my knees and begin to gather them, but I'm not even halfway done when I see another pair of hands helping me.

     “I'm sorry about that.”

     I look up and directly into the most amazing hazel eyes... I stare for a second, then realize what I'm doing.

     “Um, it-it's-” I stutter.

     “Are these your drawings?”

     “Um...” I reply with several nods.

     “They're incredible,” he comments, smiling at me.

     “Thanks.” I feel the evidence of my embarrassment creeping onto my cheeks. The only person I show my drawings to is my mum.

     He stands and extends his spare hand. Butterflies immediately rush to my stomach when I finally take it after a moment of hesitation. “You're a very talented artist. Keep up the great work.”

     “Thanks,” I repeat as he hands me my art supplies. He only smiles, nods curtly and walks away. I continue on my way to the security desk and tell them my name. Not a second later, I feel a tap on my back and a little voice saying, “Excuse me.” My brows knitted, I turn around.

     “You're Destiny?” says a little boy in a light blue shirt with a small, brown dinosaur on it. “I'm Hunter.”

     “Oh... uh... hi... Where's your mum, kid?” I ask, looking around. He points to a lady in a long denim skirt that touches the top of her worn, brown shoes, a white shirt with small, orange and yellow flowers on it and a light blue bandanna on her head. She and the rest of her family look as if they were, without warning, plucked straight off a farm and dropped here.

     “That's my mom!”

     Let me guess. That's the family I'm supposed to be living with?

     “That's nice,” I say quietly.

     “Mommy, this is the girl!” Hunter shouts, pointing at me. “This is Destiny!”

     “Oh, hello, dear!” says the lady, Mrs. Marshall. “It's wonderful to finally meet you!”

     Oh gosh no. Did she just call me 'dear'? I offer an involuntarily awkward wave and a weak smile. Is this a joke? Am I on television?

     “You poor thing,” Mrs. Marshall adds. “You must be exhausted! We're just waiting for Weston and then we'll head home. You can get all the rest you need.” She looks around at her children. “And I don't expect any noise from any of you for the next few days. Destiny needs her rest.”

     The children either nod their heads or reply with a, “Yes, ma'am,” or “Yes, Mom.”

     “Hey, Mom, I... Oh, Leonardo Da Vinci! What a pleasure it is to see you again. You guys should see her work.”

     I blush instantly. He's the same boy who helped me pick up my art supplies! Wait... Did he just call her what I think he called her?

     “You're... You're–” Not thinking, I'm about to ask if he's with them, but thankfully he interrupts me.

     “Weston,” he replies with a bright smile. Jokingly, he adds, “I'm... I'm Weston. And you are?”

     “Weston, this is Destiny Williams,” his mother answers, introducing me with a smile, “the exchange student.”

Weston’s eyes widen and his smile becomes brighter. “No way! Awesome,” he says. “I hope I made a good impression on you earlier.”

     “Thanks again for helping,” I reply, blushing again. Rolling my eyes, I continue, “Some people just don't understand the meaning of 'manners'. Let's get my luggage and go.”

     Weston's smile diminishes, making me wonder what it is I said wrong. I can't help noticing the looks on a few of the other faces, too.

~☆~

     “Hey Weston, we're on your street again! West Marshall Avenue!” Hunter says excitedly, bouncing in his seat.

     We're in the family's dirty, black Savana Passenger, heading to the house. Mrs. Marshall says they've been out all day, working on their eight-hundred-and-sixty acre farm and running errands. I just can't get over how many acres they own!

     “We'll be home soon,” says Mrs. Marshall.

     “How soon is soon, Mommy?” asks the little girl who sits on the left of me.

     “Forty minutes,” says the girl/lady (I think she's in her twenties) in front of me, quite grumpily. I don't see the resemblance between her and her mother. In fact, I don't see a resemblance between Mrs. Marshall and any of her children. At all. They got their looks from their father, I gather.

     “Really?!” Hunter whines.

     “Relax, Hunter,” his mother says, never taking her eyes off the road. “It's just–”

     “Forty minutes,” the girl/lady repeats, crossing her arms while staring out the window.

     After a few minutes of silence, the little girl beside me breaks it. “Let's watch a movie!” she shouts, causing me to startle a little. Another little boy, close to her age, suggests that they finish watching How to Train Your Dragon. I've watched this movie a thousand times with my best friends. They're obsessed. Especially Ally... I'm pretty sure she plans to marry Hiccup.

     When the movie gets to the scene where Astrid kisses Hiccup, each one of the triplets stick their tongues out and go, “Ew!” nearly simultaneously.

     “Get over it, you three sillies!” says their oldest sister, who I'm still trying to figure out. She seems so serious. “People kiss!”

     “But that's gross!” they whine in unison.

     “You won't think so when you're grown up,” she replies.

     “Did you kiss Tom?” Hunter questions. “'Cause that's gross.”

     “Mind your business!” she says sharply, looking back to glare at one of her two youngest brothers.

     “Okay, done!” Mrs. Marshall says firmly.

     “She started it,” Hunter replies, crossing his arms as well.

     “Don't engage, Samantha,” his mum says, looking over at the eldest.

     “She did, Mommy! She did engage!” Hunter's same-age brother says, then sticks his tongue out at Samantha. “She was engaged to Tommy-poo!”

     Now glaring at Hunter's brother, she shouts, “Shut it, Josh!”

     “I mean it, kids!” Mrs. Marshall yells, startling us all. I don't expect anyone to say another word, but the little girl in the triplets speaks up.

     “But Mommy, I didn't do anything,” she says quietly, her eyes tearing up.

     “I know, sweetheart.”

     The oldest boy sighs and shakes his hat-covered head.

     “Joshua, knock it off! That's so mean of you! You know that's a sensitive subject.”

     “Weston's right,” their mum says. “I don't want any one of you to mention it again until she's ready to talk about it.”

     “She's right here,” Samantha says rudely.

     “Really, Sam,” says Weston. “Mom's just trying to help.”

     No one replies to that. The five minutes left of the ride are silent ones.

~☆~

     “All right kids, introduce yourselves,” says Mrs. Marshall, who holds the youngest child in her arms. Seven of the children are standing in a straight line. “Name, age and something interesting about yourself.”

     The first in line introduces herself as Elena. “My name is Elena. I'm seven and I like to catch bugs! My friends think I'm weird.” She goes on to tell me that the two boys behind her are the other two triplets, and she's a part of them. I kind of guessed that they were. They look like the same age and very much alike.

     “My name is Joshua. I'm seven and I like to horseback ride...” A sinister smile comes to his face as he continues, “And bother my brothers and sisters!”

     “That he does,” mumbles the teenage girl in front of Weston.

     “Really well,” Weston chimes in. In response, Joshua sticks out his tongue at his big brother and makes a noise. “I love you too, Josh,” he says sarcastically.

     “Be nice, Joshua,” says Mrs. Marshall. “We won't have any more of that, or you'll go straight to your room.”

     “Joshua doesn't know how to be nice,” Elena mumbles, rolling her eyes. She then runs off to another room around a corner.

     “I'm Hunter and I'm seven. I like to make food for people. Like Weston!” He nods several times as he says, “He's a really good chef.” I look over at Weston and see that his cheeks are a light shade of pink. That and his smile show his embarrassment.

    “I'm Avery and I'm fifteen. I'm a gymnast, a singer, a dancer and a cheerleader,” says the teenage girl with a bright smile. “It's nice to meet you.”

     I smile back.

     When she steps away, a pair of deep hazel eyes rake me over so intensely that I look away in embarrassment. I feel as if I need to shield myself from these eyes, as he seems to be looking through to my core.

    “You know my name. I'm sixteen, and there's really nothing interesting about me,” Weston says with a half-smile. Just like I did with the other children, we shake hands. But this hand is different. This hand is more welcoming... more... I don't know...

     I gulp and suddenly feel even more self-conscious.

     Weston laughs quietly and looks down at our hands. They haven't parted yet.

     “Oh, sorry,” I say, releasing his hand. I didn't realize that I was holding it so tightly, and for so long. Ah, gosh!

     “It's no problem,” he replies, seeming warm, yet very calm about it. Like it didn't affect him at all. Like he didn't feel what I felt... He appears to be looking deep into my eyes as he adds, “I think your hand likes mine.” Those words make me do what I never used to do, once again: blush. Avoiding my eyes, Weston clears his throat and walks away, saying a quiet, “It's nice to meet you.”

     “It's nice to meet you, too,” I mumble, my brows knitted. That was odd.

     “Dakota. Eighteen. Basketball and football,” says the boy in the black hat. Without shaking my hand, he walks off and quickly disappears around a corner.

     “My name is Samantha,” the oldest child says. “I'm twenty-one and I'm into photography. It's my major.” She still seems to be in a stink-attitude.

     “I love photography, too,” I reply with a smile.

     “Cool.” Finally, the corners of her mouth turn up, but only a little bit.

     “Destiny gets to choose where we eat tonight,” Mrs. Marshall says, “whether it’s here or out.”

     Suddenly, we hear a clanging noise.

Mrs. Marshall looks up from her two-year-old baby, Khloe, with a quizzical look on her face. More clanging. Louder now. “Who's in the kitchen?” she shouts nervously. Then a shattering sound echoes throughout the living room and kitchen.

     We all rush into the kitchen to find a mess of flour, water and oil scattered across the floor.

     “Hunter!” Mrs. Marshall, Samantha and Weston exclaim at once. Hunter turns around, wearing a sheepish smile. His hands are still in the bowl, kneading the dough. Mrs. Marshall gives him an earful, then kindly asks Dakota and Samantha to patiently help Hunter clean up the mess. Dakota puts up a stink about it, but obeys.

     “Weston,” his mother says, “when they're done, please supervise your brother. Help him make the pizza, and don't take your eyes off of him.”

     “Yes, ma'am.”

     After everything has been cleaned up, Weston and Hunter get back to work, making the pizza. I'm about to exit the kitchen when Weston says my name. As soon as it leaves his mouth, it feels as if my heart does a flip-flop and I stop breathing. Why, though?

I turn slowly. “Mhm?” I say, biting my lip. I can't look him in the eyes. So, instead, I look at what his little brother is doing. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Weston checking on him constantly as he talks to me.

     “Would you like to help us make the pizza? We could use another pair of hands. Only if you want to, of course.” His voice is soft as he says these words. He raises it, though, when he stops Hunter just in time from adding too much olive oil to the mixture.

     “But I like olive oil... It's yummy!” Hunter says with a pout. “I'm the new chef. And I say we add more olive oil! You have to do what I say now.” He crosses his arms, wears a silly smile and playfully glares up at Weston.

     “Oh, is that where all of the olive oil went...?” his older brother asks, a brow raised as he pokes Hunter’s stomach.

     “Um... Mhm,” Hunter replies hesitantly.

     “Again, Hunter?”

     Hunter shrugs, then gets back to applying sauce to the dough as he hums an unfamiliar tune.

     “I just got that song out of my head,” Avery whines as she enters the kitchen. She puts in her earphones and turns the volume up so high on her iPod that even I can hear it, and I'm standing on the opposite end of the room.

     “Well, you got it stuck in my head,” Hunter replies, unaware that she's 'no longer with us'. Avery then begins to sing the same song that he was humming.

     “Striped flag wrapped around my head. Blue, white, little bit of red. Live free like we always said, oh oh oh. California born and raised. Work hard, gonna make a name. Getting closer every day, oh oh oh.”

     “Avery, you really shouldn't have quit singing lessons,” Weston says, interrupting her. She tilts her head, obviously not having heard him, then takes her earphones out.

     “What?” she questions loudly. Her ears are probably still adjusting and having to get used to the normal volume.

     “I said you really shouldn't have quit singing lessons,” he repeats. Avery glares at him. “Wait, I didn't mean it like–”

     “I didn't quit! Mrs. Blake moved away.”

     “I mean you have a beautiful voice.”

     “Oh, I'm sorry,” she replies, looking embarrassed. “Just a little sensitive. Thanks.”

     “You do have a lovely voice,” I comment. She suddenly lights up.

     “Thank you so much! I love singing, but my voice coach moved away.”

     Giggling, I say, “You guys would seriously pay me not to sing!”

     Weston laughs, and Avery says, “I think we're going to get along great.”

     “After dinner we'll show you around, Destiny,” Mrs. Marshall says, suddenly appearing in the entryway of the kitchen. Khloe is no longer in her arms. “And I'll also send the boys out to bring in your luggage. I know you must be exhausted after your twenty hour flight and will need to refresh and nap.”

     “Thank you.”

     As I wash my hands, Mrs. Marshall eyes me, then asks a question. “Are you an only child, Destiny?”

     “Yes, ma'am.”

     “I could see it on your face when we met you at the security booth,” she says with a smile. “I know we're pretty big and overwhelming, but you'll get used to us. We're a pretty loving family, and you'll see that you'll be comfortable soon.”

     “Does it show?” I ask, scrunching my nose.

     “Painfully so.”

~☆~

     I begin to choke.

     Joshua and Dakota start laughing.

     Hunter looks guilty.

     “You did put more salt in it!” Weston says. “Hunter!”

     “Sorry,” he replies, sounding genuinely so as he pushes his plate away.

     “You said you didn't, so I added more.”

     Hunter repeats himself, looking even guiltier.

     Mrs. Marshall shoots Joshua and Dakota a look that silences them, then turns to me. “Remember that conversation we had earlier, Destiny?” she asks. I nod. “It might not be today that you get used to us.” She then turns to Hunter. “Hunter, I'm sorry, sweetheart, but this is too salty.”

     “Disgusting is what it is!” Dakota says, pretending to gag. Hunter's eyes start to tear up.

      “I'm sorry...” he says quietly, “I just wanted to... I'm sorry.” Quickly, he gets up and begins to leave the room.

Weston bolts out of his chair and runs to stop him. Getting on his knees in front of Hunter, he says, “Aw, buddy, I love my pizza salty. They just don't know good pizza when they taste it.” He waves us off, telling his little brother what he thinks of our opinions. I glance over at Mrs. Marshall and see that she’s smiling at them both.

     “He's right, sweetheart,” she says reassuringly. I look over just in time to see Joshua stick his tongue out in disgust. “How about we order pizza from your favorite place tonight, Hunter?” Mrs. Marshall suggests. “Would you like to make the phone call?”

     “Okay!”

     “Yay!” some of us say in unison, but Hunter doesn't seem to mind.