Thomas was discovered that morning with a loud curse. In a tiny basket, cuddle up under a red blanket. His face was pressed, and his mouth trembled as he stared out into the world with his black eyes. Not a single tear escaped the baby's eyes. He uttered only a small whimper as the balding man carried him into the manor. Regardless of the circumstances, ten years passed quickly. Although there were worn items throughout the manor, it was still a charming house. 

The manor housed twelve children. The floorboard creaked due to wear, but the girls continued to run around. The boys were playing hide-and-seek or fighting imaginary armies in the sizable waiting area. The window's drafts were welcome during the hot summer. Children used the thick carpets covering the floors as a maze of imaginary worlds to play in. It did a great job of concealing the lifting floorboards as well.

With the help of the older girls, Mrs. Row was busy baking cookies in the kitchen. They were all dressed in simple gowns that Mrs. Row had made. They had pretty flower patterns and were modestly cut. In keeping with their small-town roots and ideal for the summer. Like hers. All the girls' hair was styled similarly, and Mrs. Row had taught them all the beauty of a braided bun. Even though they had very different appearances, they resembled her daughters exactly.

Mrs. Row even made the boy's clothes. She was very proud of her ability to transform old sheets into dress shirts. Mr. Row, who was a carpenter by trade and took care of all the maintenance, would shrink down men's pants to fit a growing boy. Despite his expanding waist, Mr. Row sported tight brown work pants and stretched his black suspenders over his stomach, giving the impression that he was about to pop.

The boys were unable to persuade any of them to wear a pair. Nobody but Mr. Row could have instilled in them a fear of them. Mr. Row enlisted the boys' assistance today to fix the exterior. Removing fading paint and pulling out tall weeds Not the short ones, or the grass would have bald patches. Why go to all that trouble for a man who would rather install a rug than fix a floorboard?

A wealthy couple was paying a visit this afternoon with the intention of adopting a child. Inside, everything was prepared. A picture of each of the orphanage's kids lined the walls of the swept stairwell. Both past and present. Up until you reached the top of the stairs, Brenda, Marty with those curls, Linda, and Lulu kept going. There was one young boy missing from this lot. Missing from both outdoor and kitchen activities. Even among the young children who played games and ran around.

Unaccounted for was one. No wall in any room had a picture of Thomas on it. Not once had his picture been taken. No proud photo of his new clothes or school awards could be seen. Not in the hall or dining room, if you checked. Not even the bathroom held a picture.

Really, you were left wondering if he lived there at all. Thomas did live there, though, and it was no fault of his own. In all honesty, he wouldn't mind being anywhere else but here. While the others played and got ready for the afternoon. Thomas spent the time alone in his attic room. He liked it that way, and so did the Rows. Even the other kids wished Thomas wouldn't be around.

The rare times Thomas did show himself, it never ended well. Boys would gang together to push Thomas around. It didn't help that, for his age, Thomas was rather small. The other boys his age were a good five inches taller and were meaner and stronger than Thomas ever could be. The girls were not much better; every time they saw him, they would scream and shout. Throwing hurtful names instead of fists, yet thinking they were much better than the boys.

For Thomas, that was always amusing. Which comes first, words or blows? Over the years, he developed an immunity to the worst of it, but what about other people? What kind of adults they would grow up to be was a mystery to Thomas. They end up looking like the Rows, who behaved similarly. Although they behaved like children, they were sneakier in their methods.

Thomas would consistently receive less food at meals and would never be permitted to eat at the table. None of the lessons the Rows taught were ever heard by Thomas. He was thrown outside to get tougher. How did the Rows get away with it when the youngest victim was only six? You'll understand if you've ever visited a small town.

Along with their father and fathers before them, the Row family had lived in this town their entire lives. This implied a lengthy past, and with that, some details might have been missed. Like the abuse of a child, which many people in the town considered to be a bit strange for their tastes anyway.

What made Thomas seem so peculiar? Thomas' ears first. They were unusual. He was frequently called a little demon because of his pointed ends. When Thomas was exploring the small town on his off days, someone poured holy water directly in his face!

Naturally, he was fine, but some of the locals assumed that meant he must be a powerful demon. Thomas had black eyes and skin that was too white to be human. His pupils were invisible. Although Thomas was aware of his peculiar appearance, he liked his ears, skin, and eyes. Isn't the fact that they were him all that mattered? Obviously not.

Mr. Row made the decision to repair his ears one day. Took him to the neighborhood doctor to get them properly fixed. The doctor would fall ill every time he attempted. Or the measles would break out, or once his house would even catch fire! Thomas' ears would be touched, the doctor informed Mr. Row, and he would have to put up with them. Thomas was overjoyed. Even being confined to his room for a week didn't bother him.

Thomas's hair, which was as black as the night and stood out against his white skin as a result of this incident, grew out to cover the tips of his ears. This was a big pet peeve for Mrs. Row! With the assistance of her tiny brood. Went so far as to hold Thomas down while having his hair sheared off, just like she did with the other boys who had unruly hair. This was awful—in Thomas' opinion, much worse than being thrown outside every day!

It was by far one of his worst days at the orphanage, and he looked like a mess. As he limped up the stairs to his room, he could still hear the girls' high-pitched laughter. He hid under the covers that night, dreading the dawn, and wishing his hair would regrow. He woke up with a full head of hair! Upon seeing him, Mrs. Row immediately passed out. After that, Mr. Row sent him flying out the door. Screaming without care.

Thomas avoided the place for a few days, without any way to tame it once it reached his shoulders. Thomas made a small side tail with most of it and tied it off with a string he found outside. The remainder were on top and turned on their ends. He kept his bangs above his eyes and cut them himself with a small flip-knife he carried in his pocket. Without any other options, he returned to the orphanage. After that, the Rows steered clear of him a little more. Thomas began to spend a growing amount of time away from the manor after the boys' treatment of him soured.

Thomas was only able to make it through thanks to the generosity of another outcast. The old man, whom Thomas simply referred to as old man and requested to be called that, had a face and body that were all at sharp angles, wrinkles that appeared to sink straight into his skin, and eyes that were glazed over but could still see enough to frighten the populace. He was the ideal co-conspirator for Thomas.

After learning that Old Man had abandoned the manor, unlike all the other kids, he was not given the last name Row; in fact, the orphanage was not given one at all! The orphanage was known as Cloverleigh, so the Old Man gave Thomas's name to it as well. Thomas received many gifts from him, but he never had a home because he was too old to have children. Not anything material, either; that would be quickly taken from him. The elderly man instructed him. He described them as life lessons.

Starting at six, when he first arrived. Compared to the typical child, Thomas learned different things. Thomas' preferred classes included poetry and mixing drinks. The old man would take Thomas to the neighborhood tavern on the nights of those lessons, where people sang and laughed, even though Thomas never drank any of what he made. Not at him, but with each other!

Thomas enjoyed pretending that was how a family operated. Having fun and being happy are two other life lessons that Thomas has remembered. Woodcarving. He was able to produce anything. Anything! Using a tiny knife and a scrap of wood. Although some people might refer to it as "whittling," Old Man was clear that this was woodcarving. Thomas could gather a stick or a piece of root from the forest and use it to make his own toys and trinkets.

The old man then disappeared this past spring. The old man had passed away, and the Rows informed him with broad, smug smiles. He ran to the old man's hut because he didn't want to believe. His tiny flip knife was the only thing Thomas discovered. The rest. Like an old man. Was gone.

He started to value his tiny flip knife as much as the necklace he was wearing. Thomas was able to feel his love for both of them by touching them. He was loved at one point. No one wanted to share a room with Thomas, so he was assigned to the attic. Thomas played with a small piece of wood that he had brought up the stairs. Carving an elderly man with a sharp chin and contemplating his next move?

One of the boys yelled, “Thomas, get down here, you twit,” pounding the floorboards and spewing dirt into the air. The whirling mass of gray dirt didn't even cause Thomas to blink. He treated it like his own personal doorbell.

“The Rows want you!” The boy hacked a wad of spit onto the ground, which Thomas heard. His nose wrinkled in disgust. Along with his carving, he folded his knife shut and tucked it into the deep pockets of his jeans. Easily navigating around dated boxes and mouse-infested trunks,

Thomas rolled the sleeves up of his oversized plaid shirt, a gift from the Old Man, and pulled the door to the attic open. The ladder rolled down, one of the few things still working right in the old place. Thomas climbed down. Right into the furious eyes of one of the older boys, John.

“Why do they want you?” Thomas was directly hit by the spittle. “You used your witchcraft demon to spell them out.” John hissed while displaying his uneven teeth to everyone. No matter what he said, Thomas didn't say a word; he already knew that. It would only worsen the situation. John grabbed Thomas by the collar and threw him into the wall behind him, saying, “I ought to save them from their own folly.” Pictures were banging against the wall, and one of them smacked Thomas square in the back with its corner. He made a grimace with his lips.

John greeted the demon boy with, “Don't like that much, huh, demon boy? He shouted, raising his fist to the sky. Thomas closed his eyes, ready for the blow. “Let's see if they want you with a bloody face!”

“Oh, we want him all right.” A slow brogue rolled through the hall. It had to be a child's since it was too high to be a man. The voice gave him a strange feeling for some reason. It's as if he forgot something crucial and only just realized it. Thomas opened his eyes, but he was unable to see anything due to John's large, blond head.

“You,” John whispered, releasing Thomas. Thomas was quick on his feet and escaped John's grasp. Seeing a boy standing in the hall. He looked too dapper to be from around here. His jeans had no signs of wear and were a vibrant blue color. He was wearing a striking orange scarf that stood out against his deep plum coat. His beautiful eyes were what most piqued Thomas' interest. They changed from blue to green to a shining gray. All in a matter of blinks. His blond hair was nice, shiny, and in good condition. The boy's layers of perfectly straight hair that fell to his chin made Thomas envious.

The boy answered, “Yes, me.” He approached John, who was two years older and six inches taller than him, nodding to himself as he did so. The boy said with a smile, “I'm sure someone with your charm will find a home soon.” Despite being a simple smile, it gave Thomas chills. When the old man talked about the Rows, his smile had a similar gloomy quality. He cocked his head. “The neighborhood bar or jail, for instance. Or are those places already familiar to you?” Thomas waited for John's response, knowing it wouldn't be favorable. John's hand was indeed raised back into a fist. Thomas darted in front of the new boy.

Thomas reminded John, “Mrs. Row doesn't like us being late.” John, in his heart, was a mummy's boy. Thomas used that to his advantage when he could. Watching John lower his fist. Thomas sighed. He didn't fancy getting hit, but he didn't think the blond boy could handle one of John's fists.

“Good riddance to rubbish, I say.” John spat on the ground and gave Thomas a menacing stare. Turning his eyes to the boy behind him. “I hope he curses your home.” John spit once more and brushed past them. Thomas was knocked around before the person left down the hall. Thomas turned to the blond boy and sighed in relief.

“You should be more careful.” Thomas gave out a rare piece of advice. People rarely talked to him, so you would give it to him?

“I'll consider it,” The flash of his white teeth made him look very cat-like in his satisfaction. “Should we go downstairs?” He waved his hand, showing he wanted Thomas to go first. Thomas shrugged and continued on. 

“Are you excited?” The boy asked him. Thomas shifted his attention to the young man. What exactly would he need to be thrilled about? Thomas tilted his head, hoping the new perspective would help him identify this individual. “You have no idea!” The boy shook his head and laughed. “Of course they would never tell you. They were pushing all those other kids at us, which tells you something.”

“Tell me what?” Thomas blinked, a little pleased that someone was speaking to him. Someone in his own age group spoke to him! Without cursing at him.

“Thomas Cloverleigh. We are here to adopt you,” he said, addressing Thomas.

“What!” For the first time ever, Thomas shouted. He didn't doubt the boy's words at all. Every time someone lied to Thomas, his chest would start to feel twitchy. Without that emotion, the boy might have been telling the truth.