With a loud curse, little Thomas was found that morning. Cuddle in a red blanket, in a little basket. Looking out on the world with his black eyes, his faced pinched, and his mouth quivered. Not a tear broke loose from the babies eyes. Only a little whimper came from his lips as the balding man brought him into the manor. Time flew, and one way or another ten years flew by. Inside the manor, things remained worn, but it was a charming home.
A dozen children called the manor home. The floor board squeak with age, but this didn't stop the girls from running around. Playing hide-and-seek, or the boys from battling imaginary armies in the large waiting room. In the summer the drafts from the window were refreshing. The thick carpets lining the floors became a hot maze of worlds for the children to play on. It also did a fine job covering the lifting floorboards.
Mrs. Row was humming in the kitchen, making cookies with the help of the older girls. They all wore simple dresses made by Mrs. Row. They were of modest cut, and in cute flower patterns. Perfect for the summer, and suitable for their small town roots. Like hers. Their hair was all similar fashion, Mrs. Row taught all the girls the beauty of a braided bun. They looked just like her daughters despite their very different looks.
Even the boys clothes were made by Mrs. Row. She took great pride into turning old bedding into dress shirts. Shrinking down men's pants to fit a growing boy. Mr. Row was a carpenter by trade, and did all the maintenance. Mr. Row, who despite is evolving waist size. Wore tight brown work pants, and stretched black suspenders over his gut. They appeared like they would pop.
None of the boys could be convinced to wear a pair themselves. The horror of them ingrained in their heads by no one other than Mr. Row. Today Mr. Row had the boys helping him fix the outside. Taking off peeling paint, pulling on towering weeds. Not the short ones, or they would have balding spot in the grass. Why all the effort for a man that would rather lay down a rug than repair a floor board?
For this afternoon a couple, a rich couple was coming to visit, with every attention of adopting a child. The insides were all ready. The stair well swept, lining the walls were the picture off all the children of the orphanage. Both past and present. Brenda, Marty with those curls, Linda, Lulu, on and on they went until you reached the top of the stairs. Missing from this lot was one little boy. Missing from activities in both the kitchen and outside. Even among the toddlers who ran around playing games.
There was still one missing. Thomas, he couldn't be found on the walls in any room. 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, 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 children preferred not to see Thomas around.
The rares 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 good be. The girls were not much better, ever time they see him they would scream and shout. Throwing hurting names, instead of fists, yet thinking they were much better than the boys.
Thomas always found that to be funny. Words or fist? They bother hurt the same, over the years he became immune to the worst of it, but what about others? Thomas couldn't image what kind of adults they would become. They turn out like the Rows, who acted with same way. They were sneakier with their ways, but they acted the same as the children.
At meals, Thomas would always get less and never would he be allowed to eat at the table. Schooling, all taught by the Rows, never reached Thomas's ears. He was tossed outside to toughen himself up. This all started at the young age of six, how the Rows got away with it? Well, if you have ever been to a small town you'll know.
The Rows had been in this town their whole lives and so did their father's and their father's before them. This meant a long history, and with that certain things could be overlooked. Like the mistreatment of a child, that many in the town, thought was a little to odd for their taste anyway.
What made Thomas so odd? First Thomas's ears. They were strange. Pointed at the ends, he was often called a little demon. On off days Thomas explored the small town, he had someone through holy water at him- right in his face!
Of course, he was okay, but that meant to some the locals, that he must be a strong demon. Thomas's skin was too white to be human, and his eyes black! You couldn't see his pupils. Thomas himself knew he looked odd, but he rather liked his ears, skin and eyes. They were him, and surly that was all that mattered? Of course not.
One day Mr. Row was determined to fix his ears. Took him to the local doctor to get them fixed up right. Each time he tried, the doctor would get sick. Or there would be an outbreak of measles, or one time his house even caught a flame! The doctor told Mr. Row he would touch Thomas's ears, and he would have to live with them. Thomas was very munched relieved. He didn't even mind getting locked in his room for a week.
This event led to Thomas growing out his hair, to cover the tips of his ears, his hair black as the night, it stood out from white skin. Mrs. Row hating this with a passion! She with the help of her little brood. Went as far to hold Thomas down to shear off his hair like she did with the other boys with unruly hair. This was horrible, far worst in Thomas's opinion than being tossed outside every day!
He looked a mess and it was one of his worse days at the orphanage by far. He could still hear the pitched laughter coming from girls as he dragged his feet up the stairs to his room. Hiding under the covers that night, he dreaded the dawn, begging for his hair to grow back. In the morning he woke with a full head of hair! Mrs. Row fainted on the spot when she saw him. Mr. Row sent him flying out the door after that. 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 rest sat over top and flip on the ends. His bangs he kept above the eyes, hacking them off himself with a small flip blade he kept in his pocket. With no where else to go, he went back to the orphanage. The Rows avoided him a little more after that. The boys' treatment of him went sour and Thomas spent more and more time away from the manor.
How Thomas manged to survive it all was from the kindness of another outcast. Old Man, is all Thomas called him; and what he asked to be called. Looking like a demon himself. His face and body were all sharp angles. Old Man's face was creased with wrinkles so deep them looked like they sank straight into his bones. His eyes were glazed over white, but he could still see enough to strike fear into the towns folk. Making him the perfect partner in crime for Thomas.
Old Man, after finding out that unlike all the other children abandon at the manor. He was not given the last name Row, he in fact, was not given one at all! Cloverleigh was the name of the Orphanage, and so the Old Man made it Thomas's too. He gave a lot of things to Thomas, never a home, he was too old for kids. Not money or items either, those would be taken from him all too quickly. Old Man gave him lessons. Life lessons he called them.
Starting when he first showed up at six. Thomas learned different things from the average kid. Mixing drinks, and poetry was Thomas's favourite lessons. Thomas never drank any off what he made, but on the nights of those lessons. Old Man would take Thomas to the local tavern, where people sang, and laughed. Not at him, but with each other!
Thomas like to pretend that was what a family was like. Being happy, and having fun. One other life lesson stuck with Thomas. Woodcarving. He could create anything. Anything! With a tiny bit of wood and a small knife. Some may call it whittling but Old Man made it clear, this was woodcarving. Thomas could make his own toys, trinkets, by gather a stick or a hunk of root from the woods.
Then this past spring Old Man vanished. The Rows told him with large smug smiles that the Old Man died. Not wanting to believe he ran to Old Man's hut. Thomas only found one thing, his little flip knife. The rest. Like Old Man, was gone.
His little flip knife became important to him, like the necklace around his neck. Touching them both reminded Thomas he was loved. At some point he was loved. Alone in his attic room - no one wanted a room beside Thomas, so he was given the attic. Thomas played with a small hunk of wood he smuggled upstairs. Carving a sharped chinned old man and wondering what he was going to do now?
"Thomas get down here you twit!" Yelled one of the boys pounding the floor boards, sending dust into the air. Thomas didn't bat an eye at the swirling mass of grey dirt. He treated like his own personal door bell.
"The Rows want you!" Thomas heard the boy hack a wad of spit onto the floor. Wrinkling his nose in disgust. He flipped his knife shut and tucked it into the large pockets of his jeans, along with his carving. Weaving with ease past old boxes and mouse invested trunks.
Thomas rolled the sleeve 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!" John spit went flying right into Thomas face. "You spelled them with your witchcraft demon." John hissed baring his croaked teeth for all to see. Thomas didn't say a word, he learned awhile ago, no matter what he said. It would only make things worse.
"I aught save them from their own folly!" John picked Thomas up by the collar and planted him straight into the wall behind him. The wall rattle with the sound of shaking pictures, and the corner of one hit Thomas square in the back. Making his lips turn into a grimace.
"Don't like that much, huh demon boy!" John took Thomas pained face as a challenge. Raising his fist into the air, he yelled. "Let's see if they want you with a bloody face!" Thomas closed his eyes and brace himself for the hit.
"Oh, we want him all right." A slow brogue rolled through the hall. Too high to be a man's, it had to be a child. For some reason the voice made him feel funny. Like he forgot something important, but just now remembered. Thomas opened his eyes, he couldn't see a thing through John fat blond head.
"You." John whispered releasing Thomas. Quick on his feet Thomas scurried out of reach of John's hands. Seeing a boy. Standing in the hall. He was too well-dressed to be from here. His jeans were vibrated blue, with no wear to them. He wore a bright orange scarf that stood out in contrast to his rich plum coat. Thomas was most intrigued by his eyes, they were stunning. They turned from blue, to green to grey. All in a couple blinks of his eyes. His blond hair was nice to, shinning and healthy. Thomas envied the pin straight locks that fell in layers to the boys chin.
"Yes, me." The boy replied. Nodding to himself he walked up to John, who was a full six inches taller; and two years older than Thomas.
"I'm sure someone of your charm will find a home soon." The boy smiled. It was a simple smile, but it sent shivers down Thomas spine. That smile felt dark, like the Old Man when he spoke of the Rows.
"The local bar, or prison for example." He tilted his head. "Or are you already familiar with those places?" Thomas watched for John reaction, he knew it wasn't going to be a good one. Sure enough Johns hand raised back into a fist. Thomas darted in front of the new boy.
"Mrs. Row doesn't like us being late." Thomas reminded John. John in his heart was a mum'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 didn't think the blond boy could handle one of John's fist.
"Good riddance to rubbish I say." John spat on the floor and shot Thomas a dark look. Turning his eyes to the boy behind him."I hope he curses your home." Spitting again John brushed past them. Knocking Thomas around before disappearing down the hall. Sighing with relieve, Thomas turned to the blond boy.
"You should be more careful." Thomas gave out a rare piece of advice. People rarely talked to him, so you would he give it to?
"I'll think on it." The flash his white teeth, made him look very cat like in his satisfaction. "Should we go down stairs?" He waved his hand, showing he wanted Thomas to go first. Shrugging Thomas went right ahead.
"Are you excited?" The boy asked him. Thomas turned his gaze towards the boy. What would he have to be excited about? Thomas titled his head, hoping the different angle might help him figure this guy out. "You don't know!" Laughing the boy shook his head. "Of course they would never tell you. You can tell by how they were pushing all those other kids at us."
"Tell me what?" Blinking, Thomas felt a little happy inside, someone was talking to him. Someone his own age group, spoke to him! Without calling him a name.
"Thomas Cloverleigh." He said to Thomas. "We are here to adopt you."
"What!" Thomas shouted for the first time in his life. He didn't doubt the boys words at all. Thomas always got this squirrelly feeling in his chest whenever someone lied to him. Without that feeling, it might be that the boy was speaking the truth.
"Welcome to the O'Sullivan family Thomas." Thomas became surrounded by his first ever hug. It was warm, and the slight beat of the boys' chest resonated with Thomas. First this boys voice pulled at his heart, and now his hug warmed his body. To stunned to move, he had no clue what to do! Should he hug him back? Was that allowed?
"You can hug me back." The blond boy whispered, as if he could read Thomas's mind. Thomas slowly lifted his arms. Wrapping it around his squeezed the boy lightly. For some strange reason, this all felt right to Thomas. If anyone else tried this, he surly would have bolted. Yet, Thomas, felt this boy was different. Different enough to change his life forever. He couldn't say how he knew, only that he knew this to be true.