She shouted through the phone and he almost fell off his bed. Remembering the dream he had. It was now clear to him. He was still in the same room, but his mother was next to him, and so was his dad, and so was...Grace. All of them cheering, holding balloons, Grace holding a vuvuzela, blowing it once in a while. 

The sound was so loud and unpleasant that close to his ears, yet he felt happy knowing that Grace was the one blowing it. Decorations littered the place, everyone staring at him with a big smile. Yet he himself was not awake. In fact, not want to wake up, as if he would see terrifying beings once he awakened his eyes.

 He felt an unrecognizable aura coming from one of the corners of the room, yet he didn't know which one. He seemed to be the only one who felt the presence of another because all the others seemed to be genuinely happy without a care in the world. He felt his mother caress his hair as she smiled brightly at his sleeping body.

 "Darra, happy birthday...my sweet boy". He was woken up like from a Trans, once again, when Grace shouted from the other side of the line. "Are you really okay Darr? You keep spacing out. Is something bothering you? I'm really tired of all the secrecy please tell me, I'm your best friend." He felt sad, partly because he was hiding the truth from his best friend, and partly because she WAS his best friend, nothing more, nothing less.

He tried to smile and make his voice as natural as can be, but inside, his heart, once flattering with joy, happiness, and excitement, was now cracked, with sadness and guilt, flowing out. "Why do you keep thinking I'm sad? I'm really okay, and there's nothing wrong. I promise." He said, feeling even sadder that he made a false promise, especially to the one his heart had fallen for. She let out a sigh, deciding to let it go. 

He heard footsteps coming from the other side of the line, it seemed she was going down the stairs, he heard her muffled whispers, but couldn't make out anything. Then he heard singing coming from the other side, three voices to be exact. It sounded to be the classic happy birthday song, and Grace's voice was the loudest. He could feel the joy coming from her voice, and the way she sang was music to his ears.

She wasn't the best singer, mostly because she never cared about things like her voice, always focusing on the sporty things, but he loved her voice nonetheless. The song ended and he heard Grace's voice again. "We love you!" She shouted. His heart rate picked up, and his cheeks turning the brightest shade of red, then slapping his forehead quietly, with a small smile on his face, slightly showing the tiniest bit of sadness, realizing she didn't say I, she said we. He laughed. "Thank you, Grace, Mr. and Mrs. Doner. You've all made my day." 

He said, and heard Mr. and Mrs. Doner reply, saying welcome. His joy was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming close to the door. He quickly hang up, feeling there was no time for goodbyes, and put the phone on the desk next to his bed, quickly lying down and covering himself with the blanket, facing the window that was right next to him. "Is he really still asleep, even this late in the day?" The woman asked, with a stern voice slightly agitated.

"Why be angry at him, you found him at the orphanage, right? You said he was one of the new orphans to be brought to the shelter. He must've been through such difficulty. Just let him be." A man's voice echoed through the room as he put a shoulder on her arm, but she refused to listen. She stormed out of the room angry, but the man stayed. 

"She can be so difficult sometimes." He muttered, though loud enough that Darra was able to hear. He heard footsteps coming closer to the bed, then an arm on his shoulder, as he heard the man speak, in that adored, American accent. "Hey little man, I know you're awake." He said, smiling as Darra slowly turned his head. A confused look on his face, he made himself look just as he did when the two left his room and didn't dare to make a single noise, almost forgetting to breathe. "How did you know?" 

He asked, his voice as filled with confusion and curiosity, this guy must've been a wizard! "Because you look just as you did when we left, and you're perfectly covered just as Laura left you." He said, just as soft as he was the last time. "Isn't that the point?" He asked, half convinced that he was, indeed, a wizard. "Well I happen to know, that you can't stay perfectly still the whole night, you toss and turn, your blanket going every which way and sometimes the bedsheets disobey the rules and come off the mattress." 

Now realizing that what he said was true, sometimes he did wake up, his blanket every which way and the sheets off his bed, just like he said. But that trick had always worked on his parents. "Just how smart are you?" Darra asked raising an eyebrow, while the man just chuckled. "I guess I'm pretty smart. But you are too if you managed to fool Laura." He said, winking at him, whispering at the last bits, not wanting his wife to hear him.

"Who's this Laura you're always speaking of?"
"She's your new mother."

 He said, a smile taking over her lips as Darra froze, his once confused look gone, a wave of anger rushed through him. He couldn't believe it! Even though he heard theories that they might've actually adopted him, they were just theories. He never thought for once in his life that someone could take his mother's place, not now, and certainly not ever. 

"What?!?" He shouted, his fists clenched into tight balls as he heard one or two birds flying off the tree next to his window, but that didn't bother him. He looked at the man dead in the eye as if giving him a take-me-home-right-now look. The man stopped smiling, and he slowly backed away, muttering to himself,

 "I was right, he is still recovering from the trauma. I shouldn't have phrased it that way." But his mummers were loud enough for Darra to hear, him, only wishing who couldn't hear those words. "You should really work on keeping what you say to yourself better, sir," He said, trying to sound as polite as could be, but the anger and agitation in his voice could be heard clearly. 

"I don't want to be rude but I was happier lying on the streets of my hometown, so I would like it if you took me back, please. And one more thing, never speak about my mother or father ever again, no one could take their place, no matter how kind or selfless they could be."
"Oh really now?" he heard a lady's voice coming from the door, and he saw a woman, leaning against the door, arms across her chest, crossed, and a smirk froze on her lips, completing the cold look her eyes gave. "Listen, hone, just leave this to--". She interrupted him with her hand in the air, as she moved towards the boy. Kneeling down to be able to reach his height, she began to speak.

"Listen, kid. I know you've had a tough life. But you should be grateful I brought you here, otherwise, you would've frozen to death in that crappy town. I've given you a shelter—a mansion! So you better shut your trap because this is your home and this is where you'll leave till you get married!" 

She said, raising her voice at the last parts of the sentence. He wanted to say something, but he hesitated, thinking what he was going to say was mean, and his mother would be very disappointed in him. So he just kept quiet, a look of defeat in his eyes as his head hung low. She sighed and put on that nice, caring smile of hers once again. He was almost fooled by it, thinking anyone in his place would blindly trust her.

I mean, her doll eyes and that warm smile would look believable even to a complete stranger's eyes. "Now, honey, dear Darra. Please come join us for brunch." She said, took his father's arm, and began to exit the room. But she soon noticed that Darra was still standing still, not even flinching. "Are you coming, Darra?" She asked, stressing his name out through her clenched teeth as she tried her hardest to compose her smile.

"...coming" He dared to say, thinking he shouldn't push his luck with her. But before he left the room, he quickly grabbed the phone on his desk, hoping no one noticed, and picked up his pace, catching up with them. Something about her seemed to knock his socks off, giving him chills down his spine, as he followed closely behind, in fear of getting lost in this big, unfamiliar world he'd just entered.

They were all sitting at the ridiculously huge dining table, Darra sitting opposite Mrs. Roberts with Mr. Roberts sitting at Mrs. Laura's right, and Darra's left. A huge chandelier was hanging over their heads, with about twenty light bulbs circling it, in a spiral form going to the very top. 

The dining table was covered with a thick, cream-colored cloth and topped with a glass at each seat, which they were around ten seats at that dining table, with silver-like round discs topped with the actual plate, only not that normal cause it seemed to be made of gold, forks, and spoons in different sizes littered the sides of the plate, and a white, rectangular cloth in the middle, designed with a flower-like pattern on the edges, was topped with baskets of bread, a few bottles of wine and juice were line up, going all the way to the end of the table.

Three butlers soon entered the room with dishes that seemed to be a combination of breakfast and lunch. "What exactly is brunch?" He muttered, looking at the man instead of wanting to face the woman's cold glare, filled with a layer of makeup on her face. He lightly smiled, "It's a combination of breakfast and lunch. It's what we do on days when we slept in."
"I've never heard of anything like it. Both meals are to be eaten separately at their respective times. You can't combine them!" 

He said, and Mr. Roberts saw a glint of curiosity, here and there in his eyes. "Would you hurry up and just eat already, I'm really late for my meetings." He heard the woman, now known as Laura's voice, muffled like she didn't want him to hear her agitation. He took one glance at her with the corner of his eye and saw her picking up a sandwich and leaving the room, her face still glued to her screen. He noticed the apple logo on the back of her phone just when she had turned around the corner and left. 

He noticed it from one of the magazines he used to pick up from the couch as his mom would stop reading, move to the kitchen and begin to cook. He would take a sneak-peak once in a while and saw that she was reading about phones, this one, in particular, being the iPhone that had just been released. Shaking the thought of how rich they could possibly be out of his head, he focused on eating, though not fully agreeing on the idea of brunch.

"This is outrageous!" He muttered to himself, cutting through the salty pancakes and adding a little salad he got from the side, then topping it with a sliced piece of bacon. "You can't combine meals that are supposed to be--". He stopped dead in his tracks with the fork in his mouth and his eyes, wide open. "Holy Gods of guacamole, this is delicious!"

 He shouted as he rose up from the table, his mouth still full, with small particles of food shooting out. He lightly blushed and sat down in silence, swallowing the food, when he heard a small but audible chuckle coming from Mr. Roberts. Mr. Roberts looked at him and saw the embarrassment on Darra's face, raising his hands as if in surrender. "I was tempted." He said, trying to give himself an excuse. 

They then ate in silence, comfortable for Mr. Roberts, but awkward for Darra, as he felt really weird eating with people he barely knew. After about five minutes, he heard a ding sound coming from his pockets. He took the phone out, looking into the screen, a text telling him he had one new message. 

He was surprised the old phone also had a messaging app. Everyone in the town of Dillow had one on their phones though, even if certain apps like What app came in, they were new apps and quite expensive for his small home town, only the rich in that town had those apps, but for all the ordinary, they always kept the messaging app. He didn't notice that Mr. Roberts had sneaked up behind him, for when he was just about to check the message, the phone was snatched from his hand.