DISCLAIMER: sorry I forgot to put this in the 1st chapter! I do NOT own Funny Games or Peter and Paul.

I stood awkwardly in the middle of the hall. I'd already unpacked my entire wardrobe in the master bedroom on the second floor. I had nothing better to do. I pouted my lips and studied the clock just down at the end of the hallway. Five to twelve. About lunchtime. I shrugged off to the kitchen to find something to eat.

This house is just so bright and open, the white-washed cabinets and shiny black granite counter tops of the kitchen also reflected that.

I tugged the stainless steel fridge door open and scanned the contents inside. Lots of meat. Bacon. Ham. What a douche bag. He knows I'm a vegetarian. I was somehow able to find victory in my lunch search; an apple and yogurt, an ideal lunch for me. Taking my time, I tossed the core and the empty container in the trash when I was finished. As I did, I was startled by a soft knocking that the door. I smooth down my long wavy hair and stepped out into the foyer which shared the stairs and main door.

My attention was drawn to a young man, not much older than me, standing on the other side of the screen door.

"Hi," I greeted him warily, uncertain as to why he was here, but I didn't let it show as I casually strode over to him.

"Hello. I apologize if I'm disturbing you but I'm staying with the Farber's, just down the lake. Mrs. Farber is making dinner and she ran out of eggs and she was wondering if you could be so kind as to lending her a few of yours," he smiled sheepishly. Oh, he seemed so innocent with intentions so pure and kind.

"Oh, yeah, sure thing. Come on in," I said shyly as I held the door for him. He stepped in, a whole head taller than me.

"Thank you," he murmured, "I'm Peter." He stuck his hand out to shake mine. I looked him up and down, blushing. He wore black Vans with black golf shorts and a white polo with white golf gloves. His sandy brown/dirty blonde hair was untidy and boyish, and his dark eyes never left me. Peter is rather good looking.

"Peter," I smiled warmly and took his outstretched hand, "I'm Ellen." His cotton glove was soft as he leaned down and planted an unexpected kiss on the back of my hand. My cheeks grew pink as I pulled my hand out of his and took a semi-awkward step back towards the kitchen.

"So, Peter, how many eggs does Mrs. Farber need?" I asked, turning into the kitchen and reopening the refrigerator door, searching for the egg carton which was hidden beneath all the dead animals in there. Tada. I shoved the ham off the top and snatched the carton out of it. It was lighter than a dozen eggs should feel. Why am I not surprised?

"Four," he spoke loudly, much closer than I'd expected. I jumped as the fridge door shut and he stood directly behind it. Two of the eggs inside miraculously managed to escape the carton and smash against the dark cherry wood floor.

"Shit!" I squeaked and immediately dropped to my hands and knees and began to scoop up the broken shells. I hopped up and disposed of the mess then quickly dampened a dishcloth and got back down to mop up the goopy mess.

All the while, Peter stood and watched me with strange fascination. A childlike apologetic smile lit up his face.

"I'm sorry," his expression was that of a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. I giggled in spite of myself.

"No worries, Peter. It wasn't your fault," I glanced up to see that he wasn't looking at me anymore, he was staring at my behind. Oh my God, this dress is uncomfortably short! He probably caught a glimpse of my thong line! Eeks! Still on my hands and knees I quickly finished cleaning up the mess before jumping back up to my feet, blushing madly. I glanced at him again to see where his curious eyes were now. They studied my feet, up my legs, my hips, paused briefly at my chest before reaching my heated face. He smiled apologetically again and looked down at his feet.

I tossed the towel into the sink and picked up the carton once again and popped the lid open to see how many were left.

"Perfect. Four," I smiled and handed it to him. "You can just take the entire thing." I shrugged and smiled at him.

"That's very nice of you, really," Peter slowly backed out of the kitchen. "I'll be sure to tell Mrs. Farber how kind you were." I chuckled.

"It was nice meeting you, Peter," I added as he disappeared into the foyer. I leaned up against the counter and turned my head and jumped again. Oh! Silly me. Its just the kitchen mirror. Jeez, I need to not be so jumpy!

I studied my reflection. What I saw was the 2009 Jane Adam's Academy Homecoming Queen. The look on every popular girls' face was priceless when I was crowned, mine probably was, too. Since I didn't run with their group, they thought I didn't stand a chance. I mean, I don't exactly have many friends. There's a few people in my classes I talk to but I've never talked to them outside of school.

I guess one can say I'm different. I prefer to be alone, to read, to paint, to play my violin. Orchestra freak, I know. I had a solo in the spring concert. Everyone thought it was beautiful, that I was very talented. Brian didn't really think so until someone came up and offered me a position in some fancy schmancy orchestra deal for this new composer guy. I didn't really care, I only played for fun. But good ole step daddy went and signed me up for it so the money would go to him. Ass.

I snorted once as I ran my fingers through my bleach blonde hair that went all the way down to just below my boobs. People always asked me if it was fake, dyed, which kinda sucked that people would think that. Most would judge me as a bleach-blonde-bimbo, but I was on A honor roll up till the end of sophomore year. I am going to be in the NHS next year.

My blue-green eyes stared back at me, lined with long black lashes. My skin was tan and flawless, but could use a little more browning for my taste. Perfect pouty lips, as my mother called them, even though I never pouted no matter how crazy she made me.

I guess I do look sorta nice. Well-rounded is what I liked to think about myself. I'm big on morals, an eternal optimist, and I learned to appreciate the little things. Confidence is key. I am not conceded, but I refuse to feel pity for myself. It's not my fault I would rather feel good about myself than shitty.

I was completely pulled out of my self-admiring thoughts by a sudden CRACK followed by a quiet Oh shit. I quickly strode into the foyer to find a very unexpected scene.

"Uhhhmm…" I didn't know what to say. Peter was kneeling over the carton I'd given him, the remaining eggs were crushed on the floor. But he wasn't alone. Another boy, looking just about the same age as Peter, stood with his hands folded watching me. He wore all white golf-wear and the same cotton white gloves. His honey blonde hair was brushed to the side of his cute face, the boy's gray-blue eyes studied me carefully, the dark circles under his eyes gave him a bit of an edgy almost crazed look. He suddenly cocked his head to the side.

"Hello there. I apologize on Peter's behalf, he can be rather clumsy," the new boy smiled politely at me. I chewed it over briefly before I knelt down to help Peter clean up.

"It's alright, it happens," I tried to be polite and keep up conversation. I stood up, the carton full of ruined eggs in my hand. I stiffened when I came to realize that the newcomer was standing a little closer to me than I wanted. I shifted a bit away from him and cleared my throat.

"Hi, I'm Ellen," I hesitantly reached towards him. He smirked before leaning down and planting a kiss on the back of my hand, same as Peter had.

"I'm Paul. It's very nice to meet you," he didn't let go. I frowned a little as I pulled my hand from his and turned on my heel and darted into the kitchen. I kept my eyes on the garbage for a second longer, pondering my situation. Peter had left… hadn't he? He walked away from me, into the foyer…he should have been well down the driveway to the gate by now. So why the hell is he still here? I turned around a jumped a little, clutched the hem of my dress with both hands. Paul stood in the doorway of the kitchen, Peter standing just off behind him, smiling.

"Peter… I uh thought you'd left already," my expression was wary, my voice wasn't as confident as I wished it was. I took a few unsure steps toward them. Paul crossed his arms and frowned.

"That isn't a very polite thing to say," he took a step toward me. Paul seemed to be more dominant and confident than Peter who was anxiously glancing between me and Paul, expecting something to happen? I sidestepped him into the foyer and turned around quickly so I was facing him.

Suddenly, there was nothing polite about them. The way they looked at me… so out of place, hungry almost, expecting, amusement. Paul slowly turned around to face me, smiling now.

"I'm sorry. It was very nice meeting you both," I gestured toward the screen door. Paul's face lit up in childlike guilt.

"Did we say anything wrong? Tubby, did you offend this pretty young lady in any way?" the way Paul talked, it was like he was acting, feigning motherly discipline. Almost mocking me. I felt stupid for letting them do this and almost buying it.

"Uh-uh," Peter shrugged behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, he was a step closer than I thought. I suddenly felt very, very uncomfortable standing between them. I stepped toward the door, still facing them, I took an almost defensive stance now.

"No, you were very polite… but, there's some stuff I need to do now so…" I gestured toward the door again. "If you will." Paul put his hands on his hips and shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know why you're being so impolite, all we asked was for a couple of eggs. So if you will give us our eggs, we will be on our way," he watched me with a wicked glint in his eye. I gulped. They won't go.

"I'm sorry, Peter broke the eggs I gave him. There aren't anymore. Please leave," I glared at him uneasily. I spoke each sentence very firmly, trying to get the message across. Paul's frown grew distorted.

"Then I'm sorry," he mocked my voice, "but we're not leaving until we get what we came here for." I stared at him incredibly.

"You've got to be kidding me. Get out!" how dare he! My demand seemed to erase all emotion on Paul's handsome, malicious face. Peter strolled on over next to Paul and they both stared at me. "Please," I added in a little whisper. I saw it then. They were NOT going to leave. I backed myself up against the door, Paul walked straight up to me just as I had my hand on the handle.

"No no no no no," Paul reached behind me and firmly forced my hand off the handle and held on. "I wasn't finished with you."