SAMUEL

“You’re adopted.”

Those weren’t the words I was expecting from my mom’s mouth as I sat down at the kitchen table for breakfast. Snorting as I dished myself and my little sister Avery some eggs from the bowl set between us, I rolled my eyes in Mom's direction “You’ll have to try harder than that, Mom. That isn’t even a funny joke.”

“She isn’t joking, Samuel,” my dad said gruffly. “Listen to what your mother has to say.”

My fork paused halfway to my mouth and the eggs I had piled on it slipped off. “Excuse me, what?”

Sighing, my mom clasped her left hand with my dad’s right. “This isn’t easy to say, Sammy. Your father and I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t part of the family.” She sniffled loudly. “It was for your own good.”

“We don’t know who your biological parents are,” Dad continued. “It was a closed adoption. We wanted to do some good in the world.” He gave me a small smile. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes showed the age the rest of his face did not.

The orange juice I had started to chug suddenly tasted sour, and I barely managed to swallow it as I felt bile rising in the back of my throat. "You... people teased me because I didn't look like either of you."

My dad scratched the back of his neck with a guilty look in his eyes. "It wasn't a good time. I'm sorry, son, that we didn't say anything sooner."

"We wanted a baby so badly, Sammy. We tried so many times. It made being together very hard for me and your dad," my mom tried to explain.

“Are you shitting me?” I hissed as I shoved roughly back from the table, my eyes burning. My chair made a horrible sound as the legs slid across the wooden floor. “I’m not laughing.” Someone is gonna pop up from behind the sofa in a stupid costume and yell “Just kidding!” right? This isn’t something that actually happens to people.

“Samuel--”

“No.” I snapped back at my dad before turning around and heading to the staircase.

“Mama, what’s shitting?” Avery said as I started stomping up the stairs. “Is that what adopted people do?” Normally, I would’ve laughed at her. There wasn’t much that was funnier than a seven-year-old swearing like a sailor. 

Nothing about what was happening was normal.

I could hear my mom get up from her chair as she exclaimed, “Language, Sammy! Honestly, Avery was right next to you!” I heard my dad getting up as well. His footfalls sounded a few steps behind me.

“Samuel, we weren’t done talking. Calm down. You haven’t taken your medication yet.” His voice was concerned and I knew even without looking that he had his arms ready to catch me if I fell.

Clenching my fists, I schooled my features. “Calm down?” I deadpanned, turning around in the stairway. “I’m not the one who decided that my birthday would be a good day to tell me that I’m friggin’ adopted. World class parenting right here. Whoop-de-fucking-do.” I could tell that I was going overboard with the sarcasm, but caring about wasn't on my mind.

He spluttered as his face started to redden. “Your mother and I didn’t think that--”

“Oh!” I threw my hands up in the air as I stopped before my bedroom door. “You didn’t think. What a surprise.” Turning around, I made eye contact with him as one of his twitched. “Tell Mom that she has a really crap idea of a good birthday present.”

Then I opened the door, walked inside, and slammed it in his red, ugly face. Or at least, I tried to slam it. Due to my habit of doing so, my parents had way back installed a mechanism that stopped the door from being slammed. It was extremely irritating. Didn't they know that the action of slamming and the noise it made was the best part?

Grumbling under my breath, I dramatically threw myself onto my bed. “Can I wake up now? That'd be nice.”

I pinched myself hard on the arm. No dice. Even clicking my heels together didn’t work, and that was a stretch anyways.

“Fuuuuuuck.” I shook myself in an attempt to get rid of my drowsiness and grabbed my phone from my bedside table. After wiping at my eyes with my sleeve, I saw a text from Winston.

WINNIE: text me when u get this and i’ll call u. make sure ur sitting cause i don't want u do hit ur head and die from my amazing jokes

SAMMY: you’re not gonna believe the crap my parents just dropped on me.  and you're giving yourself too much credit dude

I sent the message. My phone started ringing not five seconds after. What had he been doing, staring at it until it went off? Knowing his weird habits, yes.

“SAMMY. Sammy boy. Sams.” A singsong voice came through the speaker.

I groaned. “Winston, your cheerful mood is giving me a headache. It’s 8 AM on a weekend. Nobody should have this much energy, least of all you. Did you not sleep again?”

“Nope!” He chirped. “Guessing you did?”

“Winnie, I literally fall asleep all the time. Plus, I sleep fine at night.”

"Oh yeeeah." He paused. "You criminal. Sneaking ninja naps all the time."

"Ah, yes. Definitely not a disorder."

"Perfectly normal to fall to the floor dead asleep because a girl said she liked you and you freaked out." He snorted.

I grimaced, muttering, "One time. It was one time." He started laughing in my ear. Smiling slightly, I rolled onto my back and bit the inside of my cheek “You ever seen your birth certificate?”

“Yeah, Dad has it framed. He also has weird footprints from when I was a baby. Why do they take baby footprints?" He paused, making a hmm sound. "Why you asking about it, though?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I muttered, “My parents just gave me the ‘you’re adopted’ line and I wish I had mine to light on fire.”

I heard Winston take a big breath. “Really? Today? That’s shit planning.” 

“Tell me about it,” I said, laughing quietly. The situation wasn’t funny. Like, not at all. But Winston could always turn a bad thing into a joke, sometimes unfortunately for me because of my condition. “Guess it’s been seventeen years since some mystery lady popped me out and chucked me into the “for adoption” bin.”

“Dude. Do they actually have a bin? That’s fucked up.”

I turned back over and buried my face into my pillow, smirking. “You’re a big dumb idiot.”

“You laughed.”

“Can’t prove it.”

“What if I record our conversations?”

“That’s creepy as hell, then!” We were both laughing. When both of us had calmed down and I assured myself I was still conscious, Winston sighed.

“You okay though? Need anything?” he fretted.

“Nah. I just… I don’t want to be here right now. Can I come over?” I mumbled.

“Sure. Key is under the garden gnome. You know which one.”

I rolled my eyes. “I can’t believe you actually bought that thing.”

He guffawed, and I could hear him smiling. “Who doesn’t want a naked garden gnome? Besides you. You don’t count, Sammy.” I rolled my eyes. “But seriously," he continued. "There’s a party at Tate’s tonight. It’s in a warehouse near the farmer’s market. We can pretend it’s your birthday party! Interested?”

“Ugh. Why not? For once, a party doesn't sound like a disaster waiting to happen. I'll be over in about an hour, if that's good?"

"Mm. Lemme take a shower in the meantime."

I adjusted my grip on my phone after almost dropping it. Imagining Winston in the shower was not good for my health. "S-Sounds good. If I'm not there by then, I’m probably asleep. Haven't had an episode yet today, so..." I trailed off.

He made a pitiful sound. “Will do. Wish you could pass some of that sleep over to me. Insomnia is horrible, man!” 

“I wouldn’t know, I never have any trouble,” I said. “See you later.”

“Yup. Make sure to take your meds or I’ll hunt you down.” Click.

Okay, slightly less crappy day. Winston hardly ever failed to cheer me up. He was like infectious sunshine, if sunshine was obsessed with cheesy soap operas and could recite the periodic table in its sleep.

A party sounded fun, though. I stared up at the ceiling, dangling my arm off my bed. Most of the time I avoided big events. When I did attend it was a blast, but I spent literal days recovering my energy from the sheer amount of social interaction. Winston, on the other hand, used people as fuel. It was downright terrifying. He didn't need any drugs, he got borderline high just talking people's ears off. I chuckled at the thought, and sleepiness pushed at the edges of my mind.

My phone slipped from my hand and fell on the floor as I succumbed to sleep. A short nap wouldn’t hurt.