[Xander – 12 years]

"Do you have everything?" Ms. Johnson asks.

"Yes, ma'am," I answer.

"You remembered to pack all of your clothes?"

"Yes, ma'am," I feel my grip tightening on the suitcase with all of my clothes except the ones I'm wearing in it. "They're in here."

"You packed your toiletries?"

"Yes, ma'am," I answer. "They're also in here."

"You have Trenton?"

"He's in my backpack."

"You have your emergency money stash?"

"Yes, ma-you-"

"Yes, I know about it," Ms. Johnson smiles at me for a moment. "Do you have your journal?"

I guess thinking that I could hide money was a stupid move on my part. Of course Ms. Johnson would know I was hiding money, I'm not that clever. She probably found it and realized the serial numbers were the same ones for some of the bills she gave me for allowance the very first time I put money aside.

"Yes, ma'am," I answer. "It's also in my backpack."

"Alright," she says. "I did just hear a car pulling up so it looks like it's almost time for you to go. Remember that if you ever feel unsafe there, you can always call me and we'll remove you from there and bring you back here, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Please do that instead of running away, alright?" She asks. "Unless you feel like you're in immediate danger, then you can run and call me as soon as you're able, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright," she says. "Did you say goodbye to Nick?"

It's barely after six in the morning so nearly everyone else is still asleep. Mr. Caldwell let Ms. Johnson know yesterday that he was ready and the paperwork and stuff was actually signed yesterday. There was a going-away party for me last night, which was kind of scary especially because I know a lot of the other boys were still mad at me for waking them up a few nights ago. Not even the fact that they got expensive gummy bears helped reduce their annoyance.

Nick is my roommate and he's probably the only one of the other boys here who wasn't that annoyed. I later found out that he's the one who got Trenton for me after I freaked out like the pathetic kid I am.

"I said goodbye to him last night in case he wasn't awake in time for me to leave," I tell Ms. Johnson. "He was asleep and I didn't want to wake him up."

Doing that twice in one week would definitely annoy him.

"Let me get that," Ms. Johnson says right after there's a knock on the door.

Ms. Johnson opens the door and greets Mr. Caldwell, who returns the greeting before greeting me.

"Hello," I greet him back.

"Is everything good?" Mr. Caldwell asks Ms. Johnson.

"Yes," she answers. "You're free to take Xander home now. Xander? Goodbye."

"Bye, Ms. Johnson," I tell her.

I follow Mr. Caldwell out to his car and find myself a little bit relieved that it's an SUV. Not only that, but its license plate is COS 1339, which is good. No even numbers or letters with straight edges. Not only that but it has both 13 and 39 in it! Those are lucky numbers for me. We probably won't get into an accident.

"Would you be more comfortable sitting in the front seat or back seat?" Mr. Caldwell asks.

This is a trick question. He wants me to sit up front so that I'm closer to him and that's the 'correct' answer. But saying I'd be more comfortable in the front seat would be a lie. A full-on lie since I'd be uncomfortable in the front seat. Lying would earn me a beating, though, so if I said that, I'd get punished and we've not even left the property yet! But if I'm honest with my answer, I'd also get a beating for not saying what he wants me to say!

"Let me rephrase that," Mr. Caldwell says. "Do you want to sit up front so that you can see out the front window better, or do you want to sit in the back seat and feel like you're being driven by a chauffeur like an important kid?"

That makes it clear this is a trick question because I'm not an important kid. It's better to just be honest and deal with getting beaten for it and told I have to sit in the front.

"I-I'd be more comfortable in the back seat."

"Alright then," Mr. Caldwell says. "Hop in the back. You sit on either side or the middle if you want. Backpack can go on the seat, your lap, or the floor, it's up to you. I'll get your suitcase."

There's no beating? A little bit confused by his response, I climb into the back seat behind the driver's seat. That'll make it harder for him to grab me. I put my backpack on my lap while Mr. Caldwell puts my suitcase into the trunk, then he gets into the driver's seat and pulls out of the parking lot.

"Is there anything you're going to miss from the home?" Mr. Caldwell asks as he drives.

"Not getting beatings."

"You won't get any beatings at my place either," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "There are going to be some ground rules to follow, but you won't get beaten for breaking them. I'll talk with you about the violation and the punishment, which will typically be either just a grounding or some extra chores for a little while. And before you worry that I'm going to lump a bunch of rules on you all at once, I'm not going to. That's more than likely going to cause some of them to go in one ear and out the other."

I have no idea what that means. How could they go in one ear and out the other? They aren't physical, and I'm pretty sure even physical things can't normally do that without causing severe brain damage. That could just me being stupid, though. That's probably what it is, I'm just stupid and it's possible.

"But there are a couple of things I want to talk with you about while I drive, okay?" Mr. Caldwell says. "Since you mentioned the beatings thing. If I ever do something to scare you, I want you to tell me, okay? I've never had a child before and I want you to be comfortable and for you to feel safe in my home. This is going to be a learning experience for me especially as we get to know each other and if I scare you it's going to be by accident. It's better for me to know so that I can try to avoid doing it again, alright?"

This doesn't sound like something I can trust. If I tell him he's scaring me he's probably just going to beat me for saying he's scary.

"Alright."

That's a neutral answer. It's just me acknowledging what he said. I hope that's enough to satisfy him.

"And in that same vein," Mr. Caldwell says. "If you don't like something, please let me know, especially when it comes to food. There might be times we'll have food you don't like that I do, but I'll try to have it so that most of our meals are something we both like and if you don't like it, then something separate is prepared for you. I wasn't aware you didn't like chocolate until Ms. Johnson let me know. She also told me that you don't like seafood so don't expect it to be prepared too often. If you don't let me know you don't like something, though, then we might just keep having it served. Alright?"

"Alright."

This one I'm a bit uncertain on. Normally I'd assume he's asking me so that he knows what to serve more of but… he brought something without chocolate for his last visit to the home. Then again, I suppose that could have just been to impress Ms. Johnson and make her trust him more.

"The third and final thing I want to discuss with you right now," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "Is that you'll still be getting an allowance. You'll receive it on Sundays and it's going to work a little bit different than you're used to."

That has me concerned, especially since Mr. Caldwell thinks for a few moments before continuing.

"I looked up a bunch of things about giving kids allowance," he says. "And they all said things like 'fifty cents to two dollars per year of age' and I think that's a little ridiculous. Twenty-four dollars for a twelve-year-old boy? Have they seen how much things cost? A large bag of chips costs four dollars and a pubescent boy can eat that in one sitting. And then they're saying to make the kid put half of it into savings. Make the kid. That's not an allowance if it's not something you can use as a fun fund each week."

Mr. Caldwell seems really annoyed. What did I do wrong? Was I supposed to answer? I'm so confused and scared! Please don't beat me!

"First," Mr. Caldwell says. "I want to know how much you spend at the bowling alley each time you visit, Xander."

Something I can focus on. I need to be honest here, but he's probably going to make sure that my allowance is lower than this.

"Um… usually twenty dollars."

"Alright," he says. "That's not going to come out of your allowance from now on, Xander. It probably should but I don't really care."

I'm not allowed to go bowling anymore? But I love going to the bowling alley on Tuesday nights! Maybe that's why…

"You can go bowling on Tuesdays if you've behaved yourself for the past week," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "I'll give you thirty dollars to spend there. What you don't spend from that should be returned to me that night or the next day, but you can spend as much of it as you want at the bowling alley. The reason for this is that at this point, bowling is more like a cross between a hobby and a sport for you so I've decided to view it the same as if you were doing something like playing baseball, soccer, hockey, basketball, football, and so on."

I don't know what that means.

"In other words," oh, he's explaining it. Stupid me. "That means that it's something that I bear the cost of, not your allowance. I can see your reflection in my mirror a little and you look confused. Do you have a question? You can ask and I'll do my best to answer."

Asking scares me but Mr. Caldwell's expecting a response.

"H-how is it a hobby and a sport?" I ask.

"Hm…" he thinks about his response for a moment. "Well, it can be either. It's probably more of a hobby for you, something you do just for fun. Normally, a hobby should probably come out of your allowance but I'm seeing bowling as a different type of hobby. It's a bit complicated to explain, but the result is that I'm going to give you the money to go bowling rather than make it come out of your allowance. Ms. Johnson told me that you put ten dollars from your weekly allowance into savings each week and that leaves you with almost nothing if you go bowling, which I assume goes into buying the cheesecake?"

I'm not really sure what the question is, but I think there's an answer I'm supposed to give that's safe for me to do.

"Y-yes, sir."

"This will give you a little bit of extra money," he tells me. "So that you can buy some games or a cool shirt or whatever your mood strikes as. Junk food if you want it. Toys. However, there are some things that I might buy for you so you can always ask me first. If you want a hundred-dollar shirt, I'll probably say it needs to come out of your allowance, but if you just want to get a couple of new shirts to update your wardrobe, then I'll probably buy them instead. Do you understand?"

"Maybe?"

"What do you understand?"

I've never been asked that before. It confuses me a little. Not the question itself, just… being asked it.

"My allowance is meant for me to buy toys, games, clothes, and junk food," I say. "But if I want to buy something, to ask you first so that I can find out if you'll buy it for me instead of me buying it with my allowance."

"Not quite," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "It's meant for you to spend or save however you wish. However, there might be some things that you want to get that I will be okay with buying instead of requiring you to spend your allowance on. If we're at the store getting groceries and you want some chips? Ask me if we can get them. I'll either say something like 'go ahead and get it' or 'if you want that, you'll need to buy it'. The first one means I'm paying for it, the second one means I won't. Does that make more sense?"

"Y-yeah."

"Alright," he says. "I asked Ms. Johnson how much the allowance there was and she mentioned that starting in the first grade, you boys receive five dollars a week per grade you were in at or above the first grade. So since you just finished seventh grade, that's thirty-five dollars a week. You took out ten to put into savings, five for one dessert a week, and the remaining twenty was used just to go bowling. I'm going to keep your allowance the same, but do you understand how it works a little bit differently now?"

It's not how I receive the allowance that differs but how it gets spent. At least, that's my understanding of this. I want to ask if I'm right but am a little bit scared of making him repeat himself. That probably means I'm understanding it now so saying 'yes' probably isn't lying.

"Yes."

"Glad to hear that," Mr. Caldwell says. "Though you'll still have to be on good behavior to receive it each Sunday, okay?"

"I'll try my best."

The rest of the ride is silent and that only makes my nervousness grow. I find Trenton in my arms at some point, uncertain of when I pulled him out. We soon arrive at a large two-story house with a stone wall around the large property and an actual proper gate at the front. Complete with a gate house and a security guard.

Mr. Caldwell introduces me to the guard but I'm a bit too nervous and scared to greet him like I'm supposed to. Fortunately, I don't get yelled at for that but Mr. Caldwell does have me put my right hand on a scanner thing the guard presents to me, then he tells me to punch in a number I can remember easily. It's my gate code so that I can enter if there's no one here.

Then we reach the garage and… it has room for four cars. The SUV takes up one spot, a minivan takes up another, a pickup truck takes up a third, and a sedan takes up the fourth. I knew he was rich but I didn't think he was four-cars rich. That only makes me more scared of him.

Upon exiting the car, a man who looks to be in his early twenties comes down some stairs at the back of the garage. Much like Mr. Caldwell, this man is dressed in a suit, though his hair is black and his eyes are green. Is this Mr. Caldwell's husband? If he likes them that young then maybe he's gonna do stuff to me. I need to call Ms. Johnson. How can I do that without getting caught?

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"Xander," Mr. Caldwell says as the younger man walks over. "This is Quinn. He'll be here from around seven in the morning to sometime between seven and eight in the evening on Thursdays through Sundays most weeks. I hired him solely to act as a driver for you. That way, if you want to go into town and don't want to walk or ask me, you can ask him. All you need to do is tell him where you want to go and as long as you're allowed, he'll take you there. So no asking him to go to a bar, you're a bit too young for that."

I don't want to drink alcohol again, anyway. The past times were awful experiences for me. It would probably be my choice this time but I still don't want to.

Wait. Why would he hire a driver for me? Is that so that he can spy on me if I ever get to go out?

"That said," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "You do still need to let me know you're leaving, where you're going, and when you expect to be back. The reason for this is so that if you aren't back on time, I can call you to see if you're okay. This way, if something happens to you I can get the appropriate people involved."

I'm confused by what he means so I just nod to let him know I'll follow his rules. I don't like it because it means he's gonna know where I am at all times and then start banning me from it for stuff that I wasn't aware I did. But I have to follow the rules. It's creepy when people want to know where I am at all times. Really creepy and scary.

"Xander?" Mr. Caldwell crouches down a little so that he's able to look me in the eyes. "This is for your own safety, I promise. If you do something like go to the park and get hungry and decide to go to a restaurant that's right across the street, you won't need to update me. But if you're at the park and decide to go somewhere a bit further away, it's best if you tell me. That way if something happens like you getting hit by a car on a side street or kidnapped or something, I know where to start the search when you don't return home. It's also one of the reasons I hired a driver for you – so that you are a little bit safer. Can you look at Quinn for a moment?"

I look over at Quinn then back to my sneakers.

"For a few moments longer than that, Xander," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "Once you do, Quinn's going to show you something under his jacket."

Scared, I look over and Quinn pulls back the right side of his jacket to reveal a gun. Now I'm really scared.

"If someone tries to hurt you while Quinn is with you," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "He's going to do his best to stop them. Quinn isn't just a driver, he's a bodyguard. If you're ever out and you didn't leave with Quinn and you start feeling scared for your safety, you can also call Quinn to come pick you up or come protect you."

"I just finished my second tour as part of the special magic forces," Quinn tells me. My estimate of his age must have been off. "I'm trained in hand-to-hand combat, shooting a gun, and magical combat. Even if I'm not on-the-clock, you can still call me if you're out and start getting scared for your safety."

Quinn hands me a business card that has his name and a phone number on it.

"That's my phone number," Quinn tells me. "If I see it's you calling or that you've called, I'll answer or call back immediately."

I'm now both really confused and really suspicious. Why do they think I need a bodyguard? I'm just a worthless, pathetic piece of shit. There's nothing about me that warrants getting a bodyguard.

"Come on," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "Let's go meet more of the staff."

He's got a beating staff, too?

Mr. Caldwell pulls my suitcase out of the trunk of his car, then leads me into the house. We enter into a hallway that feeds into the kitchen, and there's another man in a suit here. This one looks to be in his thirties but since I was off with Quinn, he's probably in his forties.

I guess this one is Mr. Caldwell's husband.

"Xander," Mr. Caldwell says. "This is Franklin. He's my head of security for the property. Much like Quinn, he's former special magic forces. Security usually just watches the perimeter and gates so they're usually on the other side of the wall. However, you can also call them at any time if you feel safe, if there's an intruder, and so on. This is your house now as well and as my foster son, that also makes you their boss to a small degree. Their main job is keeping intruders out of here and making sure the residents, guests, and other employees are safe."

"You can call me Frank if you'd like," Mr. Franklin tells me as he offers me a business card. "If you ever have a problem here that needs security, you can call us. You'll see the general security line's number on that card. You've also got my number in case there's an issue with one of the security guards and there's also my two assistants' numbers on there as well. The three of us take turns overseeing security for the property, I can introduce you to them later."

So he's not married to Mr. Caldwell, either. What about the man coming down the hall from the direction opposite the kitchen? He looks about Mr. Caldwell's age and he's dressed more casually, wearing jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt. That's the sort of thing a resident would do, right?

"Xander," Mr. Caldwell gestures to the approaching man. "This is Harold, he's my groundskeeper."

What's a groundskeeper?

"My job is to take care of the outside of the property," Harold tells me. "Gardening, trimming bushes, mowing the lawn, picking up sticks from the trees, raking leaves, removing snow from the walks and drive, taking care of the pool, and so on. You'll usually only see me once or twice a week. The property may be large but it doesn't take that much work to maintain and Trey usually handles the daily pool care."

Pools make me scared of drowning. I don't even take baths because of that. Showers all the way for me. I think that's the way to use that phrase. Maybe not. I'm so stupid. Shouldn't have done that.

"There's also a housekeeper whose job is to take care of the inside of the house," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "She comes in once a week to clean and would have been here to meet you but she slipped getting out of the shower and is currently at the hospital. Let's give you a brief tour of the house."

Franklin and Harold leave as Mr. Caldwell shows me around. The kitchen, the dining room, the back yard and its massive pool… he also gives me some small rules as we go through. Like, I'm not allowed to swim without supervision, but that's fine because I don't plan on swimming ever. I've had my head held underwater too many times to want to go within twenty feet of the pool.

The house has a massive library and there's even a theater room set up here. Twelve seats set up in two rows with a path between the middle so that they're separated into groups of six. A concessions area is set up in here, complete with a thing to cook soft pretzels in, a popcorn machine, a soda fountain, a cheese machine for cooking and dispensing cheese for pretzels and nachos, storage for the food and some extra drinks… whoa.

Then Mr. Caldwell hits me with the rules for this room. As long as I'm not grounded, I can use it to watch movies or play video games. He even shows me the setup for the stuff and shows that clear directions on how to use the projector and the cooking things are listed in the appropriate spots. This way, I can see how I'm supposed to use them and reduce the odds of me messing up.

"The only other rule for this room," Mr. Caldwell says. "At least that I can think of right now, is that you need to clean up after you finish in here. You can throw your trash in the can there, and make sure to sweep up anything that needs swept, or vacuum if needed. If you have or make friends, you can even watch movies or play games in here with them. The room is large enough that you can also have a sleepover in here if you want and permission is given."

I don't have any friends and I'm confused about why he'd tell me this when he's just gonna refuse to let me have anyone over or use the room. Maybe it's to give me hope? I hate myself for having hope since I know he's gonna squash it like a bug.

"Come on," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "This isn't the only fun room."

There's a room with a pool table, a ping-pong table, and some other game setups. Another room is for playing video games and it's not quite as large, mostly containing a couch, a love seat, a coffee table, and some beanbag chairs. It does have a speaker setup, though, and Mr. Caldwell tells me that I can decorate it a little as time goes on to make it feel more personalized.

Another room that Mr. Caldwell shows me is the sauna area. There's an indoor pool and one of the rooms off of it isn't a locker room but a room with a sauna and a cold pool in it. Clear directions are posted for use of the sauna, and Mr. Caldwell explains that I am free to use it as long as I make sure to follow the safety precautions listed on the door and that I use it properly. He says that traditionally, saunas can be used in the nude, with just a towel, or in swim clothes, and that he'll let me pick out some swim shorts when he takes me shopping for clothes. The cold pool is something I can jump into to close up my pores after using the sauna, but I can also take a shower to do the same.

If I ever receive permission to use the sauna, I'll use the shower. I don't think I'll ever ask to use the sauna, though, because I apparently can't go in pants and long-sleeves. That would make me feel too exposed even if there's no one else around.

After the tour of the ground floor is given, Mr. Caldwell shows me the upstairs. That makes me nervous. I don't like upstairses. They're too high but I don't want to tell him that I'm scared. He's just gonna get mad at me and punish me for not going through the tour all the way. The first rooms he shows me are the two rooms closest to the stairs.

"Security doesn't live here," he tells me. "But they do sometimes have longer shifts so I let them use these two rooms if they want to take a nap or want to just crash immediately instead of driving home. The one condition for that is that they're also still 'on-duty'. This means that if you need security and one of them is here but napping, you can wake them up. Come on."

Mr. Caldwell leads me down to the right and shows me the last room on the right.

"This is my bedroom," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "If you ever need me during the night, you can wake me up. If you're ever scared, have a nightmare, or whatever, don't hesitate to wake me up. We can talk or play a game or watch a movie to help you calm down if you want it. Alright?"

How much trouble would I get into for that, though?

"This room," Mr. Caldwell points to the room directly across from his. "Belongs to Katie, the only member of my staff who lives here. She's our full-time personal chef and is probably down in the kitchen at the moment. If you ever want food and can't get or make it yourself, you can always ask her."

He has a live-in girlfriend and he calls her his personal chef? Does he not understand how dating works? Then again, I don't really understand it either but that's probably because I'm twelve and stupid.

Mr. Caldwell then leads me to the opposite end of the upstairs and taps on a door.

"This is your bedroom," he tells me as he opens the door. "I set it up based on what you told me during our meetings the last couple of months."

The bedroom is huge and the bed itself is also huge. That's the biggest bed I've ever seen and Mr. Caldwell informs me that it's called a king-sized bed. But I'm nowhere near that big?

"Not 'King' as in your last name," Mr. Caldwell chuckles. "But as in the term or role. It just means that it's the biggest normal bed size. A bed fit for a king. I figured it will give you plenty of space to stretch out if you want, or for you to cover in pillows or with stuffed animals. Now, you'll notice that there are four rooms off of it."

I did notice that. Why would a bedroom have that many closets?

Mr. Caldwell shows me one of the rooms, which is a bathroom that just has a toilet and a sink, though it's still fairly large. Some shelving and a mirror are set up in here as well, along with a miniature trash can.

The room beside the toilet room is the bathing and showering room, with the initial area upon entering meant for changing and drying off but also for storing the clothes and towel. To the right of that is a section where the floor is a little bit lower than the entry area, and that contains a movable shower head and a short stool/seat to sit on. I can use that to clean myself off, then the bathtub to soak in. That's a huge bathtub.

I'm not sure I'm going to soak in it, though. They'll probably try to drown me if I do.

"Unlike at the boys' home," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "Don't worry too much about shower or bath restrictions, Xander. If you feel like you need to get cleaned up you can. And there's an on-use hot water heater hooked up here so you'll always have hot water as long as we have power."

I've never heard of that before. Either he's trying to trick me or rich people have some neat tech. The dork would probably be fascinated to learn about this. Then again, he probably already knows all about this sort of thing. He may even have an on-use water heater at his workshop.

For a moment, I want to try and look into Mr. Caldwell's eyes to see if he's lying but decide against it. There's not point in doing something that'll get me beating for trying to be defiant this early. Even if me looking in his eyes isn't me trying to be defiant in anyway I can tell.

Mr. Caldwell takes me around the bed and shows me the other two rooms. One of them is a closet and it even has a dresser inside. No clothes are in it or hanging from the hangers but this closet is massive. There's also a mirror on the back of the door and the room has its own lighting system. Rather than a bulb hanging from the center, the closet is lit up using strips along the corners at the ceiling. A clothes hamper sits just-inside of the door and I leave my suitcase in here so that I can unpack once we're done.

The fourth and final room is an office. Some bookshelves sit against one wall, a large desk takes up part of the center of the room though is also sitting with one end against the wall, a comfortable-looking chair is set up behind the desk, and there's a filing cabinet in the back-right corner against the same wall the desk is. Rather than being a metal one, the filing cabinet looks like it's made out of wood.

Some shelves are fixed onto the right-hand wall as well, the shelves more like cabinets, I guess. They have covers to hide their insides and one of them has a printer/copier/scanner inside.

"The computer is yours," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "You can use it to browse the net, do school work, play games, or whatever. However, please make sure to obey the law while doing it, so no piracy or anything else like that."

I'm allowed to use the computer for nearly anything I want? That sounds suspicious. He doesn't tell me what the attached strings are but I'm sure I'll learn them once I try using it. A lot of restrictions have probably been set on the computer itself.

"Also," Mr. Caldwell says. "Check the top-right drawer of the desk."

I go behind the desk and pull open a drawer to find a phone inside.

"That phone is yours," Mr. Caldwell says. "I know you have a cheap prepaid one, but this one comes with unlimited minutes, unlimited text, and unlimited data. It can also handle games as well. I would recommend setting it with a password you can easily remember. Don't tell me what the password is – if I ever want to check your phone, Xander, I'll ask you to unlock it for me. I did put in a card so that it can hold more storage as well."

A little nervous of what he wants me to use the extra storage for, I pick up the phone. My entire body is shaking and I'm sure Mr. Caldwell can see that and is probably annoyed by it.

"If you ever leave the house for any reason," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "I want you to have the phone on you. The charger is the cord that was beside it in there, please try to keep your phone charged. This will let me reach you if I need you, and to reach me or someone else if you need to, especially if there's an emergency. My phone number, Quinn's, Harold's, and the other lead security guys' numbers are already saved in it. So is Katie's. Go ahead and set your password."

I do as Mr. Caldwell orders.

"Xander?" He says just as I'm finishing. "That's a lot of tapping, do you need help getting to the page to set it?"

Was I supposed to? It was just in Settings → Security → Set Screen Lock. Even my stupid brain was able to figure it out.

"N-no."

"Okay," Mr. Caldwell says. "It was just a lot of typing so I thought maybe it was hidden."

"I-I was setting the password."

"With a lot of taps?"

"It wanted sixteen characters."

"…Xander, that was the maximum allowed amount, not the requirement."

Now I feel even stupider.

"Will you be able to remember what you set?" Mr. Caldwell asks. "If not, you might be able to change it if you haven't saved it yet."

"It's ATK-"

"Please don't tell me your password," Mr. Caldwell says. "I'm trusting you to behave with your phone, which is why I'll ask you to unlock if it I ever feel like there's a reason to check it. I just want to make sure that you are able to remember it."

"O-oh. Um. Yes."

"Alright," Mr. Caldwell says. "Let's head downstairs."

I follow Mr. Caldwell downstairs and he introduces me to Ms. Katie in the kitchen. I'm not sure if I'm actually allowed to enter it or not so I stay at the edge of it instead of entering. Better to be safe than sorry.

"Hello, Xander," Ms. Katie greets me. "Did you like the cookies?"

"From last weekend," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "Katie baked them. She baked all of the treats I brought for our meetings."

Am I supposed to say they were good? What will happen if I say otherwise? I don't want to lie, though!

"Can't decide on an answer?" Ms. Katie asks. "Well, let's go with something easier. Do you want pancakes for breakfast?"

They're asking me what I want for breakfast. This must be some sort of trick, but I don't know them well enough to know if I'm supposed to say yes or no. What if I say 'yes' and they actually want bacon for breakfast instead? I hate bacon.

"You get to decide today's breakfast," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "Since it's your first meal here. If you want something different, you can tell Katie and if we've got the stuff, she'll make it."

What else is there for breakfast? There's pancakes and waffles and I guess bacon and I guess eggs. Pancakes are good, though. I like pancakes.

"P-pancakes, please?" I try not to tremble but I'm too scared.

"Alright," Ms. Katie says. "I know you don't like chocolate so chocolate-chip pancakes are out, but what kind of pancakes do you want?"

"F-fluffy ones?"

"I can work with that," Ms. Katie laughs a little. What did I do wrong? "Any additions, though? Or plain? Things like blueberries, bananas, gummy bears?"

She's not gonna stop asking questions unless I answer all of them, is she?

"Yes, please."

"You want all three of those in your pancakes?" Ms. Katie asks. "Blueberries, bananas, and gummy bears?"

"Yes, please."

"Do you want sprinkles as well?"

She's mocking me, isn't she? Gummy bears are too sugary for pancakes so she's making fun of me by suggesting sprinkles. The bad part is that I actually think sprinkles in a pancake might be cool since it'd make them all colorful. Trying to answer is hard because I'm so upset with myself so I just nod to her.

"Alright," she says. "Do you want anything else with your pancakes, this time on the side? Trey said that Ms. Johnson told him you don't like bacon or eggs, so we can do hash browns, hash brown patties, sausage patties, sausage links, or something else if you want."

Hash brown patties? Like they do at some fast-food places? I bought one once. It was really delicious even though it burned my tongue. That impressed me so much that I bought a second.

"Why don't you pick two sides you want?" Mr. Caldwell suggests. "We'll also be having some fruit as a third one."

Three sides? This must be a trick but I can't figure out what it is.

"H-hash brown patties and sausage links, please."

"Alright," Ms. Katie says. "Why don't you wait with Mr. Caldwell and I'll get breakfast ready?"

Mr. Caldwell leads me over to the table of the dining room and I realize only as I sit down that Ms. Katie didn't ask me which of the four additions to the pancakes I wanted. I guess that means I get whichever type of pancake she decides I should get. Probably plain. Or blueberry since those are healthy and full of… um… I don't remember the word. But I remember hearing that they have lots of something that's good for my body.

Around twenty minutes after Mr. Caldwell and I sit down, Ms. Katie starts bringing our food out to us. Mr. Caldwell gets chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, and bacon (I thought I could smell that awful thing), along with a dish that has some fruits in it and a glass of milk. A thing of syrup is placed on the table and it looks darker than the syrup the orphanage uses.

Finally, my breakfast is placed in front of me. A glass of milk, a small bowl with some fruits in it, and a plate with two hash brown patties, three sausage links, and two pancakes… that have blueberries, banana slices, gummy bears, and sprinkles in them. Telling Ms. Katie that I didn't mean all four at once is probably a bad idea.

At least it looks delicious.