I spent the entire flight staring at the big clouds outside the window because wherever else I looked, I found the judge's probing eyes fixed on me. Not creepy at all, lady.

It was a short journey; we landed almost immediately, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. I wasn't ready for this. What the fuck was I doing in Vancouver anyway? Not even three days ago, I was making plans on how to sneak into school at night to peek at the answers to the math test in the bald guy's office.

And now here I was wandering around Vancouver airport with my guitar slung over my shoulder and no return ticket.

"This way!"

Spaghetti arms (whose name I had already forgotten) led us to the exit and then to the parking lot, where another luxurious car awaited our arrival.

I still wasn't clear on HOW rich they really were. They didn't have a chauffeur, so not Kardashian rich, but still rich enough to make paupers with plastic watches turn their heads.

Speaking of which... my dirt-poor watch worked underwater, while I was sure that fancy little thing Jeremy had on his wrist would keel over and die at the first drop of rain.

Starving kids 1, stuck-up bourgeoisie 0.

My mental victory was short-lived, just the time it took for the car to travel down a closed street between two rows of glass buildings and neatly trimmed trees, turn the corner, and advance down a freshly cemented immaculate street. There wasn't even a leaf on the ground.

And there it was. The White House.

I mean, it wasn't the White House; the White House is in Washington, and surely the gates there didn't open with a remote the size of a Tic Tac box.

But it was a huge, white villa, symmetrical, with a large manicured garden all around. It had three floors. What did they need, one floor each?

"Welcome home, darling." The woman tried to smile at me for the millionth time, but every time she tried, her lips faltered and she seemed on the verge of bursting into tears again.

The car passed through the gates. I caught a glimpse of a plaque on one of the two columns. Smith Family.

Of course, they were named Smith, what else would they be named?

My brain came up with a disgusting thought: Drake Smith, which made me shudder with nausea.

We parked in the garage, which wasn't just a dirty hole to shove the car into, no no no... It was all clean and shiny, there were little tables against the wall and tools hanging in military order on the wall. It looked like one of those prepackaged IKEA sets, the ones that screamed: look, even your house could look like this, then you bought the furniture and all the crap, and your house still looked like a junkie's hovel.

But not the Smiths' house. The Smiths actually lived in a plasticized IKEA set.

When we finally entered through the front door, I almost felt disappointed not to see the swarm of maids I had expected. Yet, despite the absence of servants, not a single hair was out of place in the whole house, the windows gleamed, the chandeliers were dusted, the sofa cushions plumped. I seriously doubted that any of the three had rolled up their sleeves and cleaned everything with their own holy hands.

"Did you lock up the servants in the dungeons?"

In the silence that followed, Jeremy laughed embarrassedly, perhaps to show the two plaster statues that it was a joke, that I didn't really believe they had someone locked up in the basement, but since they were staring at me wide-eyed, I began to doubt that maybe they DID have someone locked up in the basement.

I'd have a look later.

They showed me the ground floor first, with the living room, the lounge (apparently there's a difference), the astronomical kitchen, two bathrooms, and the gym. Yes, they had a gym in the house, complete with equipment and all. I wasn't sure who used it, since they were all stick figures.

On the first floor was the master bedroom, which was even more plasticized than the garage, the guest room, two more bathrooms, two offices, and another lounge.

On the third floor was the library, the game room, two more bathrooms (how much did they have to shit, exactly?), and finally the kids' bedrooms. That's what the judge called them: the kids' bedrooms.

At the end of the hallway, there was a door on the right wall and one on the left wall, facing each other.

On the right door was carved the name Jeremiah, on the left door the name Thomas. I don't know why, but that annoyed me.

Jeremy opened his door first. "Uhm, we left in a hurry, I didn't really tidy up..."

Aside from the fact that his bedroom was as big as my entire apartment, had a private bathroom and a connected walk-in closet... that was the first room that actually seemed inhabited by a person. There was a jacket thrown over a swivel chair, and another one abandoned on the bed, as if he had tried them all on hastily before leaving the house.

On one of the two desks, schoolbooks were abandoned like casualties on a battlefield.

There were sheets of paper hung on all the walls. Some were elegant writings, brush or marker, others were scribbled notes.

Some of the elegant writings were framed.

"Anyone can love something because. That's as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something despite. To know the flaws and love them too. That's rare and pure and perfect."

"Most prisons are of our own making. A man also builds his own freedom."

"But I'm not a stone. And if I were, even a stone can be worn away by the constant drip of good sense."

Then there were the pieces of paper taped up, mostly concentrated over the desk.

"Study chapter 12 of history. Exercise 5, 6, 7 of algebra. Remember the biology project, you promised to present the ppt by the 15th... where are my geography notes? I thought I took them... maybe not... maybe I was asleep... I don't know... someone save me pls."

There was another one nearby with just: "POSSIBLE FUTURE CAREER: run away with the circus, they'll never find me"

And under another one with a stick figure of a hanged man and the words: literature notes.

The judge let out a long sigh after taking a step into the room. "Jeremiah, we promised to keep your bedroom door closed as long as you kept it clean."

That room seemed more than clean to me. There were a few clothes to fold and the bed to make, but otherwise it was immaculate. The woman was crazy.

Jeremy muttered some words of apology and nervously hovered near the door, obviously waiting for us all to leave.

Then came my big moment. The door labeled Thomas was right there in front of me.

I lowered the handle and...

I found the exact same room. I mean, there were no papers hanging or clothes out of place, but the arrangement of the furniture, the color of the curtains, even the bedspread... it was all identical to Jeremy's room.

There was just one small detail worth noting.

Every inch of walkable floor space was occupied by packages wrapped in gift paper, colorful ribbons, and bows. The piles exceeded the height of the doorframe.

"What... what is this?"

"I told you Mom buys everything double," Jeremy muttered.

The judge stepped forward and laid one of her clawed hands on my shoulder. "You've missed many birthdays and Christmases. We kept everything for when you came back."

Oh. Oh, this one is truly nuts.

I smiled and nodded, as one does with unstable people, and she released my shoulder from her grip.

"Why don't you open them now?" Spaghetti boy intervened, getting the woman's support.

I had no idea how to extricate myself from this situation without cursing like a pig.

"I believe Drake needs some time to adjust... I mean, this whole thing is still a shock to him. Maybe we should give him a moment."

The two accepted Jeremy's words with obvious skepticism. They looked at me to confirm that absurd idea.

"Yes, exactly. A moment would be good, yes. To... uh... get settled in."

"Oh." The judge exclaimed as if pricked with a pin. "Alright, of course. Then, you can put your things wherever you prefer, and we'll call you for dinner."

And so, they got out of the way. Jeremy stayed on the threshold, smiling at them until they were gone. Then he closed the door. And turned the key.

Ah.

"Is this the moment where you tell me they're cannibals?"

"They're not cannibals, just suffocating. And if you want to be left alone, you have to lock everything up because no one knocks around here."

Oh, really? Well, the first time they catch me jerking off, they'll lose interest.

I navigated through the corridors of gifts to reach the bed, where I dropped my duffel bag and guitar.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with all this stuff?"

"We can always give away what you don't want. Honestly, I don't expect you'll like many of them. They're the same exact gifts I've received since I turned two until now. And I'm not... I'm not sure if you and I have many common interests."

He made his way to the mattress and collapsed on the edge. He reached out and took one of the most protruding packages.

"You better do it now, before they come back. Or you'll be forced to pretend you like them."

Jeremy still hadn't quite figured out who he was dealing with, it seems. I had never pretended to appreciate a gift in my life. If it sucks, it sucks. And I certainly wouldn't start now.

But from a certain point of view, he was right. I didn't want to do it under the judge's watchful eyes. And then... I wasn't entirely disillusioned by the idea of unwrapping a package.

Who doesn't like opening gifts?

I took what Jeremy was offering and quickly tore open the package.

"Uhm, earrings?"

He took the box from my hand, bursting into laughter. "Oh Lord, Mom giving me earrings... No, Drake, they're cufflinks."

"Meaning? What is this? Some kind of pun?"

"Huh? No, no... they're cufflinks. They're pins used to fasten the cuffs of shirts. I received them two years ago, I think."

"Wow, great crap. Can I at least sell them? Make some money or are they all tin?"

"Uh, I think it's white gold. Um... why don't we set aside the ones you want to give away? Let's make two piles."

It seemed like a good idea. I dropped the cufflinks on the floor, deciding they would go in the rejected pile, and got up to grab another package.

I was pretty sure this one would suck too, but the excitement of discovering what was inside was hard to contain regardless. It was like playing the slot machines, there was always the chance of a sweet victory.

I unwrapped in rapid succession: a super fancy chessboard, a golden watch, then one of those electronic ones that connect to your phone, a pair of shoes from one of those rich people brands...

Not the worst of the worst, but nothing that interested me.

Then I found the newest iPhone and lost my mind.

"Oh my fucking god... now I'm really a snob. I can't believe it..."

My old phone had flown off the school roof because Simon had lost at Temple Run while completely wasted, and it seemed like a good idea to him to smash my phone against the concrete. So, I had been surviving for months with a ten-year-old dinosaur.

Jeremy leaned over to see what I was looking at. "Ah, it's not the latest one. Somewhere in there's the new one too."

Oh my fucking god.

I resumed my search with even more fervor, but the closer I got to the wall of the bed, the younger the gifts became.

I found vintage car models and a remote-controlled helicopter. I found a tiny tie, probably good for a first grader. I would have found pacifiers at this rate.

"Uuuh, this one's empty."

Jeremy turned abruptly, causing an entire column to fall. "Ah! Um! R-really?"

"Yes, really." I shook the empty box up and down, light as air. On top was a drawing of a drone, complete with a camera and everything else.

Jeremy cleared his throat. "Yeah, um, I crashed my drone into the Jacuzzi."

"I can't believe you just said that."

He didn't catch my joke. He turned white and widened his eyes in fear.

"I'm sorry! I was little, I was ten years old! I fully intended to replace it, I swear! I took yours only because I knew Mom would be mad if she found out I had broken mine so soon!"

Jeremy slumped onto the bed and clasped his hands between his knees, all curled up on himself. "Please don't tell her... she only noticed once, and I swore to her that was the only time."

"Only once? How many have you taken?"

"Uh. Not... not many. Definitely less than ten. Sorry. I'm sorry. I'll buy everything again."

I threw the box into the pile and grabbed another one. "I don't care. What the hell am I supposed to do with a drone anyway?"

"Are you sure? I can buy it back." He remained fidgety, shifting from one foot to the other in anxiety.

"Will you calm down? I said it's okay."

"And you won't tell her?"

What a drag. "Why should she care?"

"She does, I assure you. When she found out I took your Nintendo, she was furious with me for weeks. I had to write you a letter of apology and solemnly swear I would never do it again."

I burst out laughing. "But you did it again."

"Yeah..." Jeremy dropped his head between his shoulders and continued murmuring, "That was the first time, actually. Since then, I've made sure to take a picture of the package before opening it, so I could wrap it exactly as it was before. Mom comes here occasionally and has this room cleaned twice a week. And when my sheets are changed, yours are changed too."

The sheets were changed? In a room where nobody slept? And... yeah, there wasn't a speck of dust in there. Not even on the inner layer of the bows.

"It's nuts."

"A little." He kept his eyes low, never looking at me. "Thank you for coming, I really mean it. Our mother isn't well, she needs you."

Somehow, he managed to hunch over even more. His lips trembled, and before he could cover his face with his hands, he began to cry.

Perhaps the crazy lady wasn't the only one who wasn't doing very well.