Roar of Dragons

[Xander – 12 years]

"Xander!" The banana exclaims. "Xander! Wake up!"

Everything shifts and Mr. Caldwell is staring down at me.

"Finally," he lets out a heavy breath. "It was another nightmare, Xander."

"It was awful!" I cry. "The bananas tied me up using licorice and then they took ropes made out of grapes and started whipping me and every time they hit me with the whips, some of my skin and stuff came out and then the muffins and apricots would laugh at me and the gourds were eating the bits that were coming off and it was awful! I don't want to be eaten by gourds!"

"You're not going to be eaten by gourds," Mr. Caldwell says. "I promise, Xander."

"But they were already nomming my bits!" I cry. "I want my bits back!"

"You're all there, Xander," Mr. Caldwell says. "Take a sip of the water, Xander."

I accept the water he's pressing into my hands and take a few small sips of it, then he tells me to inhale deeply, so I do, then I exhale slowly like he tells me to. He has me do the deep breath thing twice before making me sip water again, and after the third round of me breathing the way he wants and taking sips of water, Mr. Caldwell tilts his head down and to the side a little, looking into my eyes.

That's scaring me. He's mad at me for waking him up, isn't he?

"Do you remember what happened?" Mr. Caldwell asks.

"No," I answer after attempting to remember what the dream was, or even what it is I told Mr. Caldwell. "But it was awful, Mr. Caldwell! I'm really scared!"

"I know, buddy," he says. "I know you are. Do you want Katie and me to play some Go Fish with you until you fall asleep again?"

"But then you won't sleep," I mumble.

It happened again. Every single night I've been at this house so far. Why won't he just send me back to the home instead of continuing to put up with me and my stupid nightmares?

"I'll fall back asleep just fine," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "I promise. Don't worry about us. Come on, let's play Go Fish."

"Okay."

[Luke – 13 years]

"And that's why you always feed the dragons first," I say. "Because if you don't feed the dragons, they'll more than likely try to eat you instead while you're trying to feed the others. Erica was telling me that you should feed the griffins first because they're more vain but I'm pretty sure that if you try to feed those first, then the dragons will eat you and the griffins. You because you ignored them and the griffins for claiming to be better than the dragons. Speaking of griffins, did you hear about how all of the ones within five hundred miles of here have been really well-behaved for the last four-ish years? What do you think is the cause of that?"

"Luke," Parker says. "It's five-thirty in the morning, I've been awake for three minutes, I haven't had coffee yet, and all I could catch was something about dragons, griffins, and eating five hundred miles."

Parker's still dressed in his pajamas, but I managed to change while we were talking. He spent the night here last night since he decided to go down to the tornado site with me. My plan ended up getting changed to utilizing my magic to help with the rescue efforts while he'll be helping out at the makeshift kitchens getting set up down there.

Despite his weird addiction, Parker's actually a pretty good cook, which probably comes from his family running a high-end catering business. That's how we met, actually – he was helping his family out at an event two years ago. I think he prefers smaller cooking things like for himself or a family, but he sometimes helps out at major cooking events as volunteer work to help those in need.

I'm going down there to help out, but he's doing it for the school credits. Students at the private school we attend aren't required to do service work like some schools stupidly do, but we can get some bonuses for it. Parker really utilizes those credits while I never need to.

"You're thirteen," I say. "You shouldn't be so dependent on coffee for waking up."

"It's only some days," Parker says. "What time are we leaving?"

Seems like every morning we talk, he needs coffee. I might suggest to his parents that they cut down on his intake. Maybe suggest that to mine as well, though they might not be too helpful in breaking his addiction to coffee as they've developed one these last few years, too.

"Just as soon as Mom finishes getting things ready," I answer. "You should hurry up and change. I think Dad's making crepes for breakfast."

"That's not one of your new outfits," Parker realizes. "Isn't that one of your old ones?"

I'm currently wearing a pair of metallic grey shorts and a metallic blue sleeveless shirt. My current shoes are silver and grey with some blue bits.

"Yeah," I show it off a little. "Not too much a fan of it, but Mom suggested I only bring down my lightning-proof clothes and we haven't gotten any in my new style. This is my mobile lightning outfit, it gives me more room for movement rather than being more constricting. Plus, it breathes better. I'm going to go downstairs and see if it really is crepes, don't forget to fix your hair after you change."

I lightning-charge my body, which results in it taking on a faint, yellow-white glow as small sparks dance around me. Then I'm at my bedroom door and I open it before zapping myself to the stairs, then down the stairs, then through the halls until I reach the kitchen… where a bolt of lightning slams into me with a pretty heavy boom. It only pushes me back a few feet but it still caught me almost off-guard.

Hitting me with lightning was probably faster than trying to call out to me first or getting in my path and grabbing me. At least it doesn't hurt! If I'd noticed it in time I'd have tried to catch it with my mouth, though Dad would probably whack me in the back of the head for doing that again.

"No lightning-charging in the house," Dad says. "Especially when you have friends over."

"You're already making coffee," I say. "You shouldn't support Parker's addiction, he's not even fourteen yet. Also, it's probably not healthy for you, either. Are you making crepes for breakfast? I smell bacon. Are you making bacon to go with the crepes? I'd like a pound and a half, please. We do have enough, right? We went shopping yesterday so we should unless you and Mom ate it all."

"You've really been craving crepes lately."

"Yeah," I answer. "I tried making some for breakfast yesterday since you weren't up yet but it was a complete disaster so I gave up. They did make for pretty good pancakes, though. The breakfast you made was even better."

"Crepes won't be as filling for you," Dad says. "And you need as much mana as you can generate since you'll be helping with rescue efforts, which is why we made sure you were as full as possible before you went to bed, Lucas. Turn off your lightning-charged form."

"Forgot I was in it, sorry!" I turn it off. "Guess I had a bit too much. Hey! Do you think I could zap myself down there? Would probably take me less than a minute. I'm not really as fast as lightning yet but I'm still pretty fast and-"

"And you'll burn through your mana," Dad says.

"I can sustain it for hours, so it's not like it's really a problem," I say. "Hey, are those eggs? Can I help crack them?"

"Out of the kitchen," Dad points. "You can wait. I'm cooking bacon and omelets for breakfast and we'll be serving it with fruit. Make sure to eat until you're stuffed, Lucas."

"It's Luke now, remember?" I ask.

"Eat until you're stuffed," Dad sets a plate with bacon and omelets on the peninsula counter.

Even if we can eat a high amount of food due to our bodies converting it into energy, there's still a limit and it's based on how powerful we are as individuals. I can consume vastly more food than Parker can even though we're both pretty strong mages. My "standard" recovery rate is also about as much mana as Parker can actually contain, but that's because lightning magic requires an absurd amount. There are mages vastly more powerful than I am, too, and even ones who have vastly higher amounts of mana and vastly higher amounts of food they can consume.

I start eating as I think about one of those mages. There's an ancient and powerful bloodline of mages, supposedly the very first ones on Earth and whose original leader is still alive today despite being over a thousand years old. The patriarch being absolutely ancient is a known fact, but whether or not he was the first mage on Earth is questioned. It's the family that owns the Lumaria Group, the most powerful collection of companies on all of Earth.

They don't really need to ingest a high amount of food as their 'standard' mana recovery rate is already rather high despite a person's standard being roughly a third of their maximum recovery rate. Supposedly, their patriarch's standard recovery rate is even more mana than I can hold.

Rumors that he's actually the offspring of a dragon and a phoenix are quite abundant. Thinking about it now, he's probably the reason the griffins within five hundred miles of here are all behaving recently. I'd say the chances are pretty high that they annoyed him and he decided to teach them all a lesson.

Why it would be within five hundred miles of here, though? He lives about three hundred miles north of us.

"How many plates has he already eaten?" Mom asks as she enters the kitchen.

"He's on his fourth," Dad answers. "Would you mind getting Parker's coffee ready? Lucas has enough energy right now that his mind's going a mile a moment so that poor boy has probably been subjected to confusion."

Mom glances in the direction of the stairs, then nods. Parker's on his way down.

"It's Luke now, remember?" I ask. "L-U-C-K. Wait, no, that's luck. F-U-C-K. Wait, no, that's f-"

Two bolts of lightning zap me in the face.

"Hey!" I protest. "What was that for?"

At least I didn't have my fork up close, it probably would have melted that and I'd have to get a new one and throw away whatever part of my breakfast the metal melted into. That's never fun and I don't like wasting food that tastes good.

"No swearing, honey," Mom says.

"Oh, right," I say. "I have news for you two. It's really important news that probably changes everything so I hope you still love me after I reveal it but I ate the last of the chocolate muffins that Dad made yesterday."

"Yes," Dad gives me a hard stare. "I saw you coming down this morning. Did you not notice that your mother and I were up?"

"I wasn't paying too much attention," I say. "I was just really hungry. Oh, also, I whipped up some icing to pour on them."

"Probably an apt word," Mom says. "Good morning, Parker."

"Good morning, Mrs. Gates," Parker greets my parents. "Good morning, Mr. Gates. Is that for me?"

"Yes," Mom hands Parker the coffee she'd prepared while we were talking. "How'd you sleep?"

"Quite well after Luke finally passed out," Parker answers. "He spent an hour telling me about I have absolutely no clue because I was too tired to actually pay attention."

"Bananas and the benefits of putting them in smoothies."

"That."

"How did that last for an hour?" Dad asks.

"If you put a banana-"

"We don't have an hour for that, honey," Mom ruffles my hair. "Finish your breakfast. Once you and Parker are done, it's time to go meet the trucks."

"Don't speed up!" Dad exclaims.

Parker takes about twenty minutes to eat breakfast, then Mom drives us to the location that has the five box trucks we're taking down to the disaster site. Technically, other people are the ones driving the trucks down as Mom's not going and Parker and I are too young to legally drive on the roads.

Two of the trucks are filled with canned and boxed foods, two are refrigerated box trucks that have perishable foods in it, and the fifth truck was actually stocked by Trey Caldwell, a non-mage who managed to build up a powerful non-magic security tech company before he was even twenty-three despite starting as just a teen with no money to his name and no big inheritance or anything. Ever since then, he's spent a lot of money donating to various good causes. If I remember correctly, Mom said he's sending down hygiene supplies and sleep goods.

Companies that don't deal in magitech aren't uncommon as magitech itself can be rather expensive due to the components required to make them. Most people only use normal tech, not magitech, as a result. The fact that Trey managed to essentially take over a significant portion of that well-established market in less than ten years is rather impressive.

Our security tech is magitech, though, since we can afford it. Also because it's a bit more durable and less prone to being fried if hit by an errant spark from me or my parents. Our security guards aren't magic, but they also use it and some of them are even coming down with us. They're coming to help guard the supplies we're bringing down so that people don't raid them.

"Remember," Mom tells me. "The second refrigerated truck has hogs in it. We bought more this time since it's a larger amount of damage than the earthquake last year and more people will probably be displaced. Parker's agreed to help handle the food situation, so I'll let him know about the hogs as well."

Not living hogs. They've already been slaughtered and skinned and drained in preparation for transport to make it easier once we arrive. This will allow the cooking staff to just grab one and start cooking. We aren't actually supplying the hogs, Mom spoke with a farmer she knows to acquire them and probably paid more than their normal value.

A lot of rescue efforts don't go this far, but we don't like doing half-measures. If we're providing food for people who have lost their homes in a disaster, then we make sure they can get some good food as well. I wouldn't be surprised if some of the trucks that our security guys are driving have tents, tables, and chairs in them to set up stations so people can eat. They also won't be checking IDs at the food stations to see if people really lost their homes or not, they'll just let people show up and get a meal.

"And behave for the trip," Mom adds. "And try not to jabber their ears off, Lucas-"

"It's Luke!" I whine. "I'm rebranding!"

"That requires you to be branded," Mom says. "Don't jabber their ears off. Limit it to Parker, okay? He's more tolerant than most and you might get asked to leave again."

It wasn't my fault they were annoying pricks at the earthquake site. Arrogant ones, too. "We're older so we're better so you have to do what we say because you don't know what you're doing" as if that was my first time rescuing people! They got pissy when I started explaining the principles behind the method I was using to rescue people, claimed I was a nuisance, and told me I had to leave. How was I supposed to know that them telling me I didn't know what I was doing wasn't an invitation to explain the process I was using?

Adults can be really weird. Don't say someone doesn't know what they're doing and then get mad at them for explaining what they're doing to show that they do know.

"See you when you return," Mom kisses me on the forehead. "Love you, sweetie."

"Love you!" I kiss her on the cheek, then start rolling up the window.

The drive to the site takes us about five hours and it's extremely boring. Parker and I are in different trucks so we play around with our radios a bit to talk, but otherwise, there's nothing else to do. I do try playing video games for a bit but the ones on my phone aren't as fun as the ones on my computer back home.

Upon arrival at the site we were told to head to, I immediately hop out and lightning-charge myself.

"Gonna go see who's in charge of searching!" I tell Parker. "See you later!"

I zap off to look for the rescue teams. They're always wearing orange vests with bright yellow bands with a white stripe in the center along with black "RESCUE MEMBER" on them. It's to make them more visible among the debris and if one of them is found unconscious or wounded, lets whoever found them know they're one of the rescuers.

It doesn't take me long to find the one who's coordinating the actual searches himself, as he's wearing a neon orange hard hat instead of a white one and his vest says "RESCUE COORDINATOR".

"Hi!" I greet him. "I'm Lucas Gates, but you can call me Luke! I'd very much prefer that, especially since we just met which means you shouldn't have any issues switching to it like my parents are! You should've been told I was coming down already. What areas have you guys already searched? I know it's a huge one and efforts tend to be slow out of caution and care so it's probably not much since it just happened yesterday and you guys probably didn't even start searching until either yesterday afternoon or sometime this morning. I can take charge of an area that doesn't have too much searching yet. I tend to be a lot faster and can find people a lot easier since I can sense their energy. Not their magical energy but the electricity within their bodies. Well, I can also sense mana but not well enough to detect ordinary people under rubble, that's a whole different potato. If you want, I can shoot up lingering bolts into the sky to mark locations of people. Green if they're completely safe, blue for if they're alive but need medical attention, and red for if they need emergency medical assistance. Black if it's a body. That way you know how urgent it is or if you need a body bag for that spot. Maybe several black bolts if there are several bodies. Yeah, I can do that."

The rescue coordinator stares at me for a few moments. He's probably a bit confused by a thirteen-year-old who's glowing whitish-yellow and has sparks dancing across his body yet clothes that are unharmed by them.

"Could you say that a little bit slower?" He asks. "And broken up into parts?"

"Sure!"

Once we manage to find the speed that works for us, he refers to a map, then looks at me.

"How do you perform the rescues if they're under debris?" He asks.

"With magic, of course!" I answer. "Did that at an earthquake site last year up until the staff got annoyed that I knew what I was doing and told me I had to leave. It's their own fault for saying I didn't know what I was doing and thinking I wouldn't try to explain it so that they'd know I did. I was just trying to show that I could. I'd like to get started on the rescuing. My friend Parker's gonna be helping out with the food stuff so he can explain more if you need further explanations. Also, your vests will kind of get destroyed by my magic when I'm zapping around since the active form of this spell is a bit more dangerous. The clothes I'm wearing may look like ordinary moisture-wicking athletic clothes like you might see on a basketball player but they're actually made from a special lightning-resistant fiber blend and treated with a special alchemical solution that uses lightning goo. The metallic look isn't for aesthetics but is actually a result of the lightning treatment, though it does still look pretty good. Not my style anymore, so I'm going to see if I can get some that don't have it. Also with their other parts matching my new style."

"Alright," the rescue coordinator says. "Since you mentioned the 'lingering bolts', I take it what you'll do is look for them and then send up the bolts to mark their location so we can come rescue them?"

"Sure!" I answer. "I can also obliterate the debris, turning it to barely ash as well! I've enough control that I can prevent it from harming the people below and can even use it to move metal! That's a new trick, I only first started managing it a few weeks ago. Mom and Dad were pretty impressed, it took them until they were in their mid-twenties to manage it!"

"Are you Lucas Gates?" A woman asks as she approaches.

"Whoa! I'm famous! Though I prefer 'Luke' these days!"

"It's best to just let him go," she tells the rescue coordinator. "From what I've heard, he will talk your ear off."

"I've yet to remove any ears."

"Other than that," she says. "He has a pretty good record for locating people and even helping them out from under rubble."

"Alright," the rescue coordinator beckons for me to step over to the map. "We're currently focused on this area right here, Luke. There are only so many people who can go through the debris so we're doing our best to see if we can find out if anyone is underneath. If they are, we'll get a team to come in and try to move the debris so we can get them out. Then a medical team will check them over after they're brought out. The tornado happened early in the morning, so most people were home and asleep so we're estimating it to be a pretty high count of people who are trapped, which is why we're focusing on a residential area at the moment."

Which makes sense. More people are likely to be trapped where the homes are than in an area that likely had very few people – who were all no doubt awake at the time and so had a higher chance of knowing it was coming. They can't just go in and move all of the debris on the ground since that takes forever so they're probably using their eyes to try and spot anyone, then having another crew come through with scanners and infrared if they have them to try and see if they can detect people they missed. They may also just be calling out with their voices to see if they get a response. Despite it being 'debris', it won't be too hard to see at least part of a person as long as they aren't in a basement or something. There's only so much building that can be there.

"So you want me over here, then?" I ask.

"No," he says. "We don't have high-tech scanners so we can only check so much and getting into basements takes time. If you're able to actually sense people, you'd be good for doing that."

"Oh, okay!" I say. "Then I'll go do that! Radio them my color signals!"

I zap myself over to the area they're currently searching through and start at the beginning. They've managed to take care of a decent area already but it doesn't hurt to check again, especially with a way of detecting people as good as mine.

After the second neighborhood, I do sense someone still trapped. Seems like a single body, not visible in the rubble. Signals are low.

Kneeling, I place my hand on a piece of rubble and send some sparks down toward the person. The sparks dance from item to item regardless of their conductivity until they eventually reach the person and give them a light zap. A shift in the person's signals occurs at the light touch of my magic.

"Can you hear me?" I ask.

"Yes," the voice is raspy, dry. Also sounds like an old woman. "Help."

"Don't worry," I say. "I've got you. Inhale as deeply as you can, cover your mouth and pinch your nose if you're able to, and keep your eyes close as much as possible. Going to get you out of there."

I wait a few moments, then I place both hands on the debris and 'pulse' electricity into it. Sparks burst up into the air, forming a sort of dome around me for a few moments before they fade. The debris and ground below me are vaporized, though I keep control over the metal by using my lightning to hold them, shifting the metal objects out of the way instead of letting them melt or fall. In my current form, I'm also able to perform a sort of hover, so I'm left in the same spot in the air I was in despite there being nothing below me now.

It looks like the woman either fell into her basement or went into her basement. Something must have fallen onto her as I can spot damage to her left leg and back as the small bit of ash from the debris begins to drift down.

A flick of my wrist sends more sparks out and they zap the dust out of existence. Based on her electrical signals and the damage I can see, it's important she receives aid sooner rather than later.

"There we go," I say as I point a hand up into the air. "Ma'am, emergency help is on the way."

A bolt of crimson lightning shoots upwards, a beacon two hundred feet in height, which will last around ten minutes. Colored lightning is always weird for me to cast and I shake my hand a bit once I disconnect the spell from me. It feels weird.

"I need to go look for other people who might be trapped," I tell her. "But rescuers are coming. Don't try to move, they'll get you taken care of once they get here. If you need someone to talk to, though, talk to the turtle."

I point in front of her and some sparks shoot out, then turn into a turtle made of electricity that gives her a small wave.

"Hi!" It greets her. "I'm a lightning turtle, but you can call me Zap!"

"It… talks."

"He's one of my familiars," I tell her. "He'll keep you company until help arrives."

He's not actually a turtle, but he took on the form because we figure it's less threatening than his real form. Children also like to play with them in their turtle forms while waiting for rescuers.

I continue my search of this area, finding one more trapped person that was missed, before continuing on. Soon, I reach the section where rescuers are currently searching and assist their efforts. With me here, they're able to find people a lot faster – so fast, in fact, that they can't actually keep up. That is why I shoot up the lingering bolts. At the very least, they'll mark the locations down on their map so that they can check it out once the bolts are gone.

The red bolts are explicitly so they know what to prioritize. Blue and green means the person may move from that location and try to see help – I point in the direction of the main rescue camp for those people – and black is just so that they know they'll come across a body. I don't like shooting up the black bolts. I don't like encountering the bodies, either. Those disturb me and I don't usually sleep very well at night for a few weeks after doing something like this.

When I sense my mana getting low, I return to the rescue coordinator's station and let him know I need to recover, then I head over to the food area before disabling my lightning-charge spell.

"Jeez!" Parker jumps. "Don't scare me like that, Luke!"

He's currently working the line serving food to people who have shown up for it, and I can see that one of the hogs has been cooked already.

"You should get in line," the woman he's serving says. "Don't cut."

"Not a word, Luke," Parker glares at me, then looks at her. "He's one of the rescuers. Specifically, he's the main one locating people trapped under rubble now that he's here. He just spent the last three and a half hours in constant use of mana in order to locate people, has probably seen dozens of dead bodies judging by the number of black bolts we saw go up, and won't be able to resume work helping rescue people until he's refueled. He can cut all he wants. Luke, they have a spot for you over that way. Look for the food tent with a blue cover, that's the main tent for feeding rescuers, which you'd know if you didn't zap off to go look for people immediately after arriving."

"Thanks, Parker!" I tell him, then locate the blue food tent.

The "spot for me" Parker mentioned turns out to be an entire table – and the cooks prepared an entire hog for me. Well, it's not just a hog as there are fruits, veggies, grains, and other things to go with it. It seems they were well-advised about my appetite when I do this and started getting ready a little bit ago. When I consider the fact that they're just now starting to finish the first batch of food for me, I can conclude that Parker must have given them an estimate on when I'd be returning. He's an awesome friend.

Time to fuel up, take a quick nap, then return to looking for more survivors.

[Xander – 12 years]

"Here you go, Mr. Caldwell."

"Hm?" Mr. Caldwell looks at me. "Why are you giving me your phone?"

"I'm returning it."

"Why?"

"Don't worry, I'm not taking the clothes you bought me, either."

"What are you talking about?"

"Bye, Mr. Caldwell."

I set the phone down since he didn't take it, then turn around and leave, grabbing my suitcase on the way out of his office. It was sitting just a little outside of it since I didn't bring it into the room with me.

"Xander, wait," Mr. Caldwell hurries after me. "Where are you going? You're all packed up? And your eyes are a bit red and puffy. You were crying? What's wrong?"

"I'm going back to the home."

"Why?"

"Because I don't deserve this place."

"Why do you think that?"

"I'm nothing but a bad boy," I find myself sniffling as I try to avoid crying again. "All I do is mess up and break the rules and interrupt your sleep. You want someone who can be your son, not a pathetic waste of space like me. I'm sorry for taking up so much of your money, Mr. Caldwell. You can try Nick next. He's a good kid. You don't have to worry about him being a pathetic crybaby who screams at night and wakes you up. It's okay. I know I'm not what you're looking for and you don't really want me. Goo-eep!"

My suitcase suddenly stopped moving and that caused me to jerk back a little when I thought I was moving forward. When I look at my suitcase, I find that Mr. Caldwell has grabbed it.

"Xander," Mr. Caldwell says. "You're returning yourself?"

"Yeah."

He sighs. I know he's mad at me but it's okay, I won't be his problem anymore. I put a lot of thought into this and realized it's for the best. I'm just a pathetic screw-up of a boy and he wants a son. All I do is wake him up at night, take up his money, and cause him problems. He's better off with a proper boy, not a waste of space like me.

"Do you want to go back to the home?"

"I know you don't want me," I say. "I'm just a failure. It's okay to make mistakes. You're new to having foster kids. You can't have it the first time every time."

He can beat me for being honest here. I don't care. Get it over with and then I'm gone and he can get a good boy to be his son.

"That's not what I asked," Mr. Caldwell says. "Xander, why do you visit the dogs on Saturdays?"

"Because they just want someone to love them," I say. "A permanent home they can live in. A family."

"Isn't it because you empathize with them?"

"I don't even know what that means," I say. "See? I'm stupid. Not worthy of being a son for anyone, 'specially not a rich man like you."

"It means you know how they feel," Mr. Caldwell says. "You go to them because you want someone to love you, a permanent home to live in, a family. You know what they feel like. I won't pretend to understand your situation, Xander. I grew up with loving parents, a permanent and stable home, and no real abuse ever. I never really knew what it meant to long for love.

"However," he continues. "What I do know that is sometimes, it takes a little time to see how things work out when someone new enters into your life. That's why they require eighteen months of living together before they allow an adoption in this state. You're nearly thirteen, so you also have to adjust to this, just like me."

Mr. Caldwell kneels and looks up into my eyes.

"Xander," he says. "You've only been here a week. Ms. Johnson warned me that you might have nasty nightmares while you're still adjusting to living here. Stress and even fear can cause them to worsen. Does it bother me? I'll admit I'm not happy with waking up in the middle of night. Does that mean I don't want you here? I am willing to put up with you waking me up at night if it means giving you enough time to feel comfortable enough that the nightmares fade, okay?"

"Why bother?" I ask. "Isn't it better to have someone who won't cause problems and disturb your sleep? Just get a boy or girl who's not a stupid piece of shit."

Mr. Caldwell sighs, then looks at Trenton, who I'm holding with my left arm. He looks up into my eyes again.

"Xander," Mr. Caldwell says. "I didn't ask for a perfect child. That's hopeless in the first place. Let me ask you this: do you think the reason you don't deserve a dad like me is because you're stupid and weak?"

"I know it."

"And you think that waking me up with your nightmares every night is a problem and it's better off if you weren't around?"

"How else will you sleep?"

"Come with me," Mr. Caldwell tells me.

More than a little scared, I follow him upstairs. This fear grows even more when he leads me to his room. Then, he pulls his phone out of his pocket as he tells me to go into his room. Then he turns on a really loud noise that scares me and hurts even after I cover my ears.

Mr. Caldwell sets his phone on a table in the hall, then enters his room and closes the door. Now I'm really scared. He must know that I hate loud noises and is going to use this to… what?

Mr. Caldwell flipped a switch beside the light switch and the sound just… vanished. Carefully, I pull my hands away from my ears.

"If I didn't want you waking me up at night," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "I would activate the soundproofing enchantment on my room. It creates a magical barrier that prevents sound from passing through in either direction. There's one on your room as well but I had the switch removed specifically so that I could hear you if you were screaming in your sleep because I knew you'd turn it on every night if you knew about it and had the ability to. It only works if the door and windows are all closed.

"Look in my eyes," Mr. Caldwell says, and I do. "I may not know much about being a dad, but I want to try, Xander. And to do that, that means being willing to sacrifice sleep if my son is having nightmares. You want a family, don't you?"

Maybe.

"You've not yet been here a week," Mr. Caldwell says. "It's going to take time for both of us to adjust to each other and see if we work out as father and son, okay? Could you try to give it a little bit more time? And if you really think there's nothing good about you, Xander… then you should know that you're a very kind kid."

"How could a waste of space like me be kind?"

"The only person saying you're a waste of space is you," Mr. Caldwell says. "You visit the dogs so that they can get some of the attention they want. That's kind. You were concerned about the children's hospital and the middle school. That's kind. You were concerned about people having comfortable sleeping arrangements while displaced from their home. That's kind. You were willing to give up money you've been carefully saving for years just so that the other boys from the home could have cinnamon rolls made from scratch. That's kind and generous. You're willing to leave here just so that my sleep isn't disturbed. That's kind.

"You might see yourself as worthless and pathetic," Mr. Caldwell says. "But I see a boy with deep mental scars whose heart is kind. Yes, you may struggle with things, but don't we all? So I'm going to ask, Xander, could you please give it a chance to see if you want me as your father? If you say 'no', then I'll even drive you back to the orphanage myself."