For my family, who will always love me.
For you, my reader who gives me strength.
For me, you can do it.

Many things happen in a lifetime, some good and some bad. We begin the size of a grain of salt and we grow to the size of a tall, less hairy monkey. A lot of different things happen between that growth. Some insignificant and some are more pertinent than we will ever know. The only thing that's the same is our affect on the world. We may not be small as we were before but our affect is still small, smaller than we think. We are simply a grain of salt in this colossal world.

Something I never expected would ever happen to me, happened. My grain of salt self will cause walls to fall, waves to crash and humans to fly. But for humans to fly you have to have wings. To make the wings you need feathers. To get feathers? You must break the rules.

After this day, my life would never be normal. I would go into detail, but that's what books are for. You get to see yourself.

—

Adopted.

I had to look up what it meant when my mother told me the couple next door adopted a kid my age.

a·dopt/əˈdäpt/

verb

1.legally take (another's child) and bring it up as one's own:"there are many people eager to adopt a baby"
2.choose to take up, follow, or use:"this approach has been adopted by many big banks"synonyms, take on, , , , ... antonyms

At least that's what the Oxford Dictionary tells me.

It sounds suspicious to me. Who wants to take someone's child away from them and raise it for themselves? That's like taking someone's dog away and never giving it back. It's terrible! He must be a really cute kid if they're going to take him away from his parents and raise him themselves.

Not only are they adopting him. They're coming over for dinner. That means I have to wear a dress and look nice. I have to take a shower, change out of my regular shirt and skirt, brush my teeth, blow dry my hair and brush my hair. The pain. I can already tell that I am not going to like this boy.

"Evangeline, are you getting ready?" my mother asks from outside my door.

"Yes." I draw it out, expressing that I would rather not.

She opens the door and steps into the room.

She has wavy brown hair that reaches her waist and deep brown eyes. She has put her hair in a bun for dinner and she is wearing a red knee length dress. She has red lipstick on that matches her dress.

After looking around my room and figuring that I haven' t done anything yet she sits on my blue comforter on my bed and gestures towards the bathroom.

"You go take your shower and I'll pick out a dress for you, okay?" She says standing up and opening my closet door to pick out a dress.

"Okay, mother." I walk into the bathroom and take my shower.

I come out of the shower with my knotty brown hair washed and dried. It's a tangled and unruly, making me look like a lion. I pick up my hair brush and drag it through my hair. When I decide it's as good as it's going to get I set down my hair brush and look at the dress on my bed. It's a light blue dress that I've wore many times before, it's my favorite because it matches my eyes. I slip on the dress and strain to zip it up.

I look in the mirror. I stare back at myself. I wonder more about this boy that is coming over. Is he nice? I don't talk to many boys at school, I mean I'm in 4th grade, 9 years old. Boys only talk to boys and girls only talk to girls. If you do talk to a boy it means you like him. But boys have cooties, why would you like someone who has cooties?

I go into my bathroom once more and brush my teeth. When I'm done I hear the doorbell ring and greetings as my parents open the door.

"Evangeline! Come greet our guests!" My mom shouts up the stairs.

I race out of my room and run down the wooden stairs, nearly falling over on the last step. After regaining my balance I look up at the family in front of me.

The woman has golden skin she looks graceful with her slender arms and long legs. She smiles brightly at me with perfect straight teeth and green eyes. She wears a maroon dress that ends at her calves and black heels on her feet. The man standing next to her, holding her hand, has an olive skin tone. He is skinny and tall, almost like a beanpole. He has a wide grin on his face and his green eyes nearly match his wife's. He wears a suit with a maroon tie.

The boy is looking straight at me. I can feel myself turning red as a tomato. He has dark chocolate skin and coiled curly black hair. He smiles at me and his dark brown eyes twinkle. I wave my hand at my side weakly.

"Come on in. Dinner will be ready in a second." My mother smiles at them and leads them into the dining room. I follow my mother and I sit down. My mother and father sit at either head of the table. The boy sits down next to me and Mrs. and Mr. Johnson sit across the table.

Dinner is lasagna and salad. Lasagna is my absolute favorite, right next to pizza and chocolate ice cream.

My mother and father converse with the Johnson's. They talk about the tests and the man who was a famous writer has developed the disease and is now named a flaw. The boy and I don't join in the conversation unless they ask us a question and by us I mean me, nobody has asked him a question. I sneak glances at the boy, wondering if he will talk to me. I wonder what he did to get himself taken away from his parents? Has he done something bad? Maybe he told his parents he didn't love them but he didn't mean it, he was just mad about something else? Maybe he has awful handwriting and his parents were ashamed of him because of it.

"What did you do to get taken away from your parents?"

My mother who had just taken a drink of her wine chokes on it. My father stares at me dumbfounded and the Johnson's look horrified.

"Honey, we are his parents." Mrs. Johnson says with a smile on her face.

Uh no you're not.

"No you're not."

Those are the first words he's spoken this whole evening. He says it evenly, while still looking at his lasagna. But he says it so low only I have heard it. They continue, talking not realizing he has said a word.

I go back to eating my salad, picking out the red onions and placing them on the side of my plate. I tuck my hair behind my ear with my other hand and I can feel eyes on me. I turn my head to the boy next to me and he's staring at me. I smile and he does too.

"My name is Owen." He holds out his hand as if he is waiting for a handshake. I give him my hand and I can feel my smile grow so wide it's nearly about to break my face.

"I'm Evangeline." I respond and tuck my hair behind my ear again. He looks at my plate, it's nearly empty while his is barely touched.

"Do you want my lasagna?" He asks.

We are gonna be best friends!