It was a bit awkward. There I was, continuing to unwrap gifts while that guy tried not to cry and keep it together.

I had no idea how to handle it. I kept my back to him the whole time, humming to myself as if I couldn't hear him.

We continued like that until the doorknob was violently rattled and slammed against the locked latch. At that, Jeremy wiped his face with a cloth handkerchief (yes, cloth, he kept it in the pocket of his jacket) and suddenly stopped crying.

He got up and went to open the door.

Spaghetti guy leaned in, looked at me for a few seconds, crouched amidst the mountains of gift wrap, and offered me the tightest smile I had ever seen.

"Dinner's ready, guys."

"Thanks, we'll be right there." Jeremy began to slowly close the door, pushing the man back.

He turned to me and gave me the same tight smile the other guy had. "Mom cooked. I know it won't be great, but don't tell her, please."

...

The taste of roast poultry wasn't even in the top five problems of that dinner.

Number 5: There was no TV.

And how was one supposed to avoid that painful conversation without even glancing at some trashy program?

Dad always put something with a semi-naked model in the spotlight. How many times had we argued about that? I wanted to watch swimming (since it was the only program with some hot dude in swimming trunks), or boxing, or well... anything that would give me some inspiration for my nocturnal fantasies.

And so I found myself thinking about dad again. I let the conversation happening around me flow.

I moved a potato from one side of the plate to the other, then back. I only had two left, I couldn't even use them to make a smiling face.

"Drake, you play the guitar, right?"

Number 4: They kept asking me questions they already knew the answer to.

"Yeah, Spaghett... oh, uh... what's your name again?"

"Kevin." He replied with a hint of resentment. What did he have to be resentful about? I had repeated that I played the guitar at least twenty times, he had only told me his name once.

So, KEVIN (stupid name, anyway. All the Kevins I've ever known were asshole daddy's boys) was sitting at the head of the table, opposite the judge, as stiff as a board.

"You know, my daughter also plays the guitar. Maybe you two could play together."

Or I could NOT do that. Yeah. I kept playing with my two poor potatoes. "Do you keep her hidden in the basement with the servants?"

Number 3: Nobody ever laughed at my jokes.

Jeremy was lost in playing hockey with his potatoes and hadn't looked up from his plate for at least twenty minutes. So, I didn't even have his fake laughs to rely on.

The two clowns stared at me in silence.

"It's a joke. You see... it's funny because I don't really think you have people locked up in the basement."

The judge cleared her throat and smiled at me as if I were crazy. "Isabelle lives with her mother in a mountain village a few hours from here. She's only a year younger than you."

"And ten mental years younger." Jeremy muttered so quietly that the two guys at the far ends of the table didn't even notice.

Kevin filled his wine glass (yes, a wine glass) and did that snobby thing of swirling it around and sniffing it. "Isabelle will come to visit us in a few days. You'll get to know her then."

Jeremy's fork crashed into his plate. "What?! But she was here, like... yesterday!"

"She was here six months ago. And how many times have I told you not to use the word 'like' that way?"

"Okay. But... Drake just got here. He hasn't gotten used to us yet, is it really necessary to..."

"Jeremiah."

Number 2: These three were always on the verge of tearing each other apart, but they never quite got there. They cut everything off by saying a name and giving a look.

The judge had even tried it with me. When I poured myself some wine, she just said "Drake."

Drake what? Finish that fucking sentence, and let's see what happens.

I poured the wine for myself. I drank it, and I swallowed it, even though it tasted like stale vinegar. I was a firm believer that if you put something in your mouth, you had to go all the way.

"So, Drake." Kevin smiled. "Tomorrow you'll have your first day of school here in Vancouver. Are you excited?"

Tomorrow I'll have my what?! "I literally just got here two hours ago."

"We can't afford for you to fall behind. We registered you as soon as the police called us. Oh, we had 'Thomas' written on your uniforms, but we'll get that changed as soon as possible."

I stared at him for a moment. “Yes, that's how it's done. You say something so absurd that nobody could believe you're serious."

Well, my number 1 was that the chairs were super uncomfortable, but I'd like to change it to: I really don't think they're joking. These guys here are planning to send me to school tomorrow.

The judge reached out as if she wanted to place her hand on mine, but the table was so long she couldn't even reach it even if she were elastic girl.

"Drake, we want you to feel at home as soon as possible. We know that all this must be very strange for you. A new home, a new family, and a new city. Plus, there will be all the commitments with the police officers and lawyers... we would like you to feel like a normal boy as soon as possible."

Commitments with police officers and lawyers... "Can I see my father?"

And I don't know if these guys had a twisted sense of humor or were just really dumb because THAT was the moment they burst into laughter.

...

Waking up in an unfamiliar bed was always a horrible experience. My mattress at home had a broken spring that pressed against my tailbone. I liked that broken spring. I couldn't sleep without my broken spring.

I sat up with my eyes glued shut. An awful, painful light filtered through the window, and someone hadn't stopped knocking for at least two minutes.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?! IT'S FUCKING SEVEN O'CLOCK!"

The knocking stopped. Jeremy's voice came through the keyhole: "We have to leave at seven-thirty. Breakfast is already on the table, and your uniform is in the closet."

Ah, right. Apparently, they had already enrolled me in school. Either Canada had the fastest bureaucracy in the world, or really the first thing the crazy lady did after finding out her lost son was alive was to enroll him in school.

If that wasn't a red flag...

I rolled over with a grunt. And the door opened.

So, it was true that people just walked into your room. Next time, I'd lock it for real.

"I advise you to get up. The school bus won't wait if we're late, and there's a lot of walking if it leaves us."

I gave in and opened my eyes. Jeremy had his hair slicked to one side again. He was wearing a red jacket and a black tie.

On his chest was embroidered the name of the school: Private Institute of Jesus the Savior.

"Oh God. Tell me they're not nuns."

"They're not nuns, but they still don't appreciate tardiness."

...

At the breakfast table, the two crazies wished me a good first day of school, even though it was like... late February. They even left before us. Apparently, judges start work early. And Spaghetti guy... I had no idea what he did, and I didn't care.

The school bus was out of this world. It was shiny on the outside and lit with soft colors on the inside. Each seat had a table, an electrical outlet, and a light. There were even screens in the aisle broadcasting the news.

There weren't many other students on board, but everyone stared at me like I was a toucan at the zoo. Maybe because the jacket was too tight. I don't know how that was possible, since it was exactly the same as Jeremy's. Maybe it was because he had two stick-thin arms. I bet he'd never lifted weights in his life.

Putting on the tie had been a nightmare. Dad had once tried to explain how to do it, but between the fact that he was half drunk and that he had the coordination of a pigeon in a maze of mirrors, we hadn't gotten anywhere.

Jeremy had to tie it for me, which had been very embarrassing.

We sat in two seats at the back with backpacks on our knees. Those were also provided by the school, I wasn't sure why.

"Mom made sure the newspapers didn't publish anything about your discovery, but everyone knows that my twin brother disappeared when he was little. The word will spread quickly. I'm sorry, I guess no one will talk about anything else for a while."

That didn't worry me. I'd make myself known quickly for other reasons.

The bus departed. I took out my new headphones and my new cell phone (okay, there was something good in that story), while Jeremy took out the HOMEWORK and started doing exercises.

So, we knew which of the two had hit his head as a child.

...

Jeremy and I were in our final year. In the school food chain, we were the lazy lions who, IF THEY WANTED, could tear you apart in an instant and then lie in the sun and sleep for the next two months.

That's how it worked in the wonderful public school of Sacramento. I had endured the bullying of the older students in the early years, and now it was my turn to vent my frustration on the younger ones.

But I don't think things worked that way around there. The first clue came when we got off the bus directly into the school's fenced courtyard.

A convertible skidded in front of the doors to cut us off and parked diagonally in horizontal parking spots.

No one seemed the least bit concerned that a dozen students had almost been mowed down to death. They all went on as if nothing had happened.

Three guys with gelled hair and bleached tips got out of the car. Oh dear.

"Hey, Dawson Creek! 2004 is over!"

Jeremy dragged me into the crowd with all his might. "What are you thinking?! Leave them alone. We're only four months away from being done."

I wanted to turn around and tell him that if he had trouble parking between the lines then maybe his mom was a whore, but Jeremy had practically dragged me to the door and I lost sight of them.

That's how we stumbled into the first class.

Jeremy offered me the window seat, and he took the one next to it. My plan was to slump my head on the desk and wake up after five hours, but apparently, the teacher had different plans.

"Today we welcome Thomas Smith."

The class, made up of twenty other red jackets, plus half ties and half bows, stared at me.

So, I stood up and started clapping. "Woooo, Thomas! Go Thomas Smith! Thomas one of us!"

And then I sat back down. And they stared at me.

"What do you want from me? My name is Drake."

Jeremy groaned and hid his head in his hands.

And I think that's how the antipathy between me and the science teacher began.