Chapter 1
To all those prospective parents out there who wish to adopt a child; let me suggest a few things. If you’re planning on adopting a child to 'save' your marriage, don't do it, it isn’t productive. Trust me; an adoptive child already has enough on their plate. I would like to say that if you adopt a child, stay married but that’s pretty irrational. Still, it would be nice. Finally, tell your child as soon as they are old enough to understand that they are adopted. Life altering information should not come from strangers or bratty fifteen-year-old sisters.

When I turned thirteen, I was informed by my sweet, adorable sister Nichole, that I was not her real brother. Such a revelation was not really a surprise. I am tall, thin and of fair complexion. I have been called a tow head all my life because of my hair. My family, on the other hand, can only be described as swarthy. Of course, explaining to my sister that she will be growing a mustache before me, most likely tipped her over the edge.

Sitting in front of the large flat screen in the living room with my brand new Xbox 360 I logged on to Xbox Connect and began to load the latest Knights and Magic. Spending any time with me people are quick to realize that I have a fascination, alright an obsession with any and all things fantasy. My name is Morgan which is cool though I am pretty sure I was named after some old English Rock band my mom liked as opposed to the sorceress that fought Merlin. My sister, on the other hand, thinks I am pretty lame because the rest of the males in the family are more interested in football and NASCAR. I disliked both. The hurtful comment that came out of Nichole’s mouth started because of that new XBOX.

I had just turned thirteen and my father, now living in another state with his new 'young' wife, would lavish us on our birthdays with numerous expensive gifts. Did he feel guilty, I’m sure he did, but I was thirteen years old; what did I care, I had a brand new XBOX. My sister was furious because she was confident that our father spent more money on my birthday than hers which occurred a few months earlier.

As I studied the different Dragon Age character classes on the screen, Nichole stormed into the living room proclaiming that I had to turn off my stupid game so she could watch one of her shows. Of course, that was ridiculous; we owned four other televisions including the one in her bedroom. I quietly laid down my controller turned around and began to tell my sister what she could do with her show. I knew she came in to pick a fight, so I was more than happy to oblige. Round and round we went. My sister is actually pretty smart however I had long years of practice in pushing all of her buttons. Maybe in a weird karmic way, it was my fault that the argument went as far as it did but in the middle of one of her tirades she suddenly stopped and in a fierce whisper proclaimed, "It's not your television anyway, you’re adopted; you're not even my real brother. In fact, if my parents didn't adopt you, they would still be married."

Like that old arcade game, my dad used to tell me about 'Left hook, right hook, put him away.' That took the fight right out of me. I quickly jumped to my feet, gave my sister a dirty look and went searching for my mother. I knew what Nichole said to me was partially true, I was adopted. Since I was now thirteen years old, I thought it would be best to confirm this information with my mom. Looking back it might not have been the brightest time to confront my mother with this issue. If I had stopped and given it some thought, I would have waited as I found her on the phone arguing with my father. Interrupting her phone conversation, I quickly told my mom word for word what Nichole had said.

I am not sure what I was really expecting my mom to say, but it wasn't, "Yes you’re adopted, Morgan, so what, get over it." Without another word she turned around and continued her argument with my adoptive father.

With that second knockout blow, I stumbled backward and put my head between my legs to keep from passing out. After a few moments I looked up to see if my adoptive mother even noticed, she didn’t; too engrossed in her phone conversation. So now a little paler and frankly not feeling very well I stumbled upstairs to find my bed.

Several hours later feeling contrite my adoptive mother came into my room. She tried to explain to me that she loved me like I was her 'real' son. If I could go downstairs, the three of us would go out to eat for my birthday, pick up a few books from Barnes and Noble or even a few more games from Games Stop then come home and have some cake.

Like my adoptive father throwing money at things would, of course, fix everything. I didn't even have enough energy to fake it. Explaining to her that I wasn't feeling very well I turned over to face the wall and hoped she would go away. Did I expect my adoptive mother to comfort me with a soft touch and warm words no she wasn't that type of person? Looking back I wished she possessed a little more maternal warmth, some kinder words might have kept me from falling down the rabbit hole. Well maybe not. I'm not sure how long she stood there before I drifted off to sleep.

Words are weapons; they cut as deep and can leave terrible wounds. And like any injury, if not treated they can fester. After my spectacular birthday, I turned inwards...spending more time in the fantasy worlds of my books than the so-called real world around me.

Did my adoptive parents try and draw me out? Not really, instead I found new games and books thrown in my direction to cheer me up. Soon unopened Xbox games littered the floor. After school, I would come home and lock myself in my room and read. I would, of course, eat dinner and if asked a question I would politely reply. No real feelings, it was all superficial. I no longer felt connected to my adoptive family much less this world.

Only when my grades plummeted did my adopted mother go into action. Once an honors student, I now gave minimal effort. I knew exactly how much I needed to do to pass my classes. It became a game to see if I could figure out how many questions I needed to answer correctly on any particular test to get the desired grade. Really I had no intention of going to summer school or being held back, but I wasn't doing any more work than necessary.

At first, my electronics were taken away. I hadn't played on the Xbox or my DS in months didn't care. Still no change, next I was informed I was grounded and told to stay in my room. Right, how is that punishment? Finally, my adopted mother went into my room and took all of my beloved books and threw them away. Why in the world would you throw away books, yes that one got to me, but please donate them? Of course, this effort failed as well. Libraries are wonderful places, and I passed the old public library every day as I walked home after school. As my adoptive mother didn’t come back until after dark, she was none the wiser.

In the middle of all of this, we moved, then again after I turned fourteen. My adoptive mother's job moved us around a lot. Sure she made more money, but it wasn't a very stable environment. Nichole complained enough about losing her friends that she was offered a chance to be sent to boarding school. I quit making friends, so it was not a significant loss. I did mention about going to boarding school as well, but I was told no, I needed parental supervision.

Now alone with Rebecca, I began to call my adoptive mother by her first name... I decided that I would give in a little. Actually, there wasn't a public library within walking distance, and I was getting bored. With my sanity in jeopardy, I raised all my grades precisely one letter grade, no more no less. Rebecca was very pleased with her parenting skills and removed my restrictions. She left me alone as new responsibilities at work kept her away from home. For months we would pass one another late at night or in the morning, but as long as my grades were satisfactory, she seemed to be content.

At the end of the school year, the two of us moved once again; this time to a sleepy little town fifty miles west of the nearest city. Turning fifteen and now in High School, it was decided that a smaller town would suit me better. No, I wasn't privy to that conversation. Rebecca had a long commute every day most of it by train, but she seemed happy with the arrangements.

One bit of maternal concern did arise late one night as summer break began. Nichole went to stay with my adoptive father over the summer, this wasn't offered to me. Rebecca became concerned I would spend all day in my room. I explained that I found this great park near the public library and would most likely spend my time between those two places. If it was unusually hot, there was always the condominium pool. Happy with my answer she went back to her paperwork.

I did tell Rebecca the truth, for some reason spending all my time in my room was no longer considered quality time. I had to get out, walk around town. On one of my jaunts, I discovered the public library... an ancient looking red brick structure nestled in what was considered a public park. The park seemed to be more of a forest, actually, with a few bikes and running trails all along the perimeter. One of the odd things about the park was the lack of any paths leading directly through the center of the woods. Not dissuaded I entered the forest hoping to appear at the other end near the shopping district. The shortcut would hopefully get me to the bookstore I discovered on one of my previous outings.

The first time I entered the forest, it felt like I was coming home. An unfamiliar warmth filled my chest, a feeling I never really felt from living with my adoptive family. At first, I was confused and a little afraid but I quickly settled down and enjoyed the foliage around me. Visions of black knights, quests, and dragons filled my head as I quickly traversed the broken ground. Surprisingly, I ended up exactly where I needed to be, across from the bookstore. I didn't really want to leave the loving embrace of the forest, but I said I would return and it reluctantly let me go.

Small towns are great, the shopping district held all sorts of family-owned businesses as opposed to the super megastores from my old hometown. Megastores are very impersonal, here if you entered a store they warmly greeted you and it always seemed to me that they were really interested in helping you. The bookstore 'Read Along' lay directly across the street from the park and within minutes I found myself enjoying the smell of newly bound books.

My first encounter with Diana who owned the store was rather strange. The first oddity of many that would keep me off balance in the upcoming weeks. Excited that I found a bookstore, I felt a weird resistance keeping me from walking through the door, but as soon as my foot crossed the threshold an unfamiliar voice squeaked "Why are you here?"

Turning, I discovered a tall, thin raven-haired woman with icy blue eyes dressed in earthy colors standing between a couple of small bookshelves. "I thought I might buy a book. My name is Morgan Rynders." The saleswoman quickly backed up looking like a deer that was about to bolt.

"Morgan, that’s a pretty name. My name is Diana, and I own the store." A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed between us before Diana proclaimed, "I welcome you, Morgan, to 'Read Along,' please feel free to peruse my wares."

Nodding and quite confused I gave a little wave and proceeded to find the fantasy section. My further forays into the bookstore were a little less strange as Diana began to question me on what books I found interesting. She actually giggled when I told her I liked fantasy. Giggled, do adults giggle? I don’t think I ever heard my adoptive mother giggle. Oddly enough as I looked around the bookstore, I would often find Diana nervously watching me.

Oh, let me backtrack a little and explain the whole 'Pretty' thing. Remember that entire swarthy comment, well, for the most part, the males in my adoptive family go through puberty like at age six. I swear some of my cousins started shaving while still infants. I, on the other hand, had not reached that stage even by my fortieth birthday. You know that movie you have to watch in health class where they explain the wonderful changes boys go through during puberty? My body was absent that day. A little alarmed I approached Rebecca with this bit of revelation. She, of course, looked nonplused and explained I would grow out of it.

Grow out of it! I wanted to grow into it. After enough complaining, she finally agreed to bring me to the doctor's office.

The nurses happily took down the information, drew plenty of blood and ran some tests. Less than a week later Rebecca and I sat in the office of Dr. Kate Dunne. Positive that something was wrong with my body, I couldn’t help but fidget in my chair. Dr. Dunne acknowledged our presence with a nod, but she continued to look over my paperwork with what appeared to me real confusion in her eyes. Suddenly as if a door was shut Dr. Dunne shuddered, and her whole body language changed. Leaning back in her chair and with a practiced smile firmly planted on her lips, she happily explained to Rebecca that although it was uncommon, it was nothing that any of us should be concerned about. My adoptive mother thanked the good doctor and literally dragged me out of the office complaining that I had wasted enough of her time.

Since apparently my adoptive mother and the medical profession were of no help I thought of a plan to make myself more masculine. Taking up exercise to bulk up, I began to run, which I actually found out that I enjoyed. Unfortunately, push-ups and the like did absolutely nothing for my muscle wise, but I continued my exercise regimen. On a whim I began to grow out my hair, noticing some cool looking biker guys at the local garage all sported long hair. Of course, this proved disastrous as I was now often confused with being a girl. At my new school, a number of guys actually asked me out. When I explained to them, I was a guy most looked embarrassed, but a number of them seemed pretty angry.

The less tolerant of them started a campaign to make my life hell. Obviously, if I looked like a girl but was a guy by definition my sexual orientation came into question. Peabrained individuals felt threatened by my mere presence. Frankly, if I was into guys which I am not, how in the hell is it their problem. Stupid seems to be a disease in most schools. Almost all of the abuse was verbal which really sucked as the year went by. At least I managed to avoid any real physical confrontation by quietly slipping away from school. Rebecca, of course, said I should try and get along with others. At no time did I think about cutting my hair.

Screw them... I liked how it looked. Now in a new town, those issues might begin anew, but I figured I would cross that bridge later.

After waving to the ever-skittish Diana, I made my way towards the back of the store. If it wasn't for Diana’s nerves, I could have happily spent hours inside the store. Look, I am 90lbs dripping wet, how in anyone's mind could I appear to be a threat is way beyond me. With my head in the clouds, I stumbled upon a girl leaning over some books in the fantasy section. Thankfully being pretty nimble all that happened was a small stack book tipped on to the floor.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there. My head was in the clouds." I knelt down and began to collect the books. As I busied myself, I took a good look at the girl I almost tripped over. Immediately I decided she was adorable in that green flowery sundress.

"Oh, that's OK." The girl stood up and brushed her reddish blond hair from her face then gave me a cheerful smile. As I passed the books back to her our fingers touched and I thought she said, "Wow, you're beautiful." but instead she said, "You're new aren't you?"

I nodded and reached over her head grabbing the latest 'Patrick Rothfus' novel. "My name is Morgan Rynders."

"Morgan, a cool name like in the King Arthur story." She gave me another cheerful smile and thrust out her hand while balancing her own small stack of books with her other hand, "My name is Abigail Morris."

Taking her hand in mine, I thought I could hear her say, "I hope we can be friends."

Our little introduction was interrupted by Diana who suddenly appeared. "Is everything OK?"

Abigail nodded letting her hand drop. "I introduced myself to Morgan."

Diana bit her lip then gave a half smile. "That's nice, dear. Morgan let me check out that book for you at the register." I gathered that was not a suggestion and quickly found Diana ringing up my book. "Abigail, sweetie, can you wait a moment. I need to speak to you."

Realizing that was my cue I turned to leave.

"Morgan!" Abigail ran up to me and grabbed my hand. "Can I see you again?"

I could feel her distress. "Of course, Abigail, it would be nice to make some friends."

That little statement seemed to absolutely make her day, and she jumped up to give me a big hug. Well, that was a really nice surprise, besides Abigail being soft in all of the right places, she smelled like flowers. Stepping back as if it was perfectly normal, Abigail began to reach into her purse. "Let me get your number."

I could almost feel Diana’s eyes bore into me. "Abigail, how about we meet for lunch tomorrow? You know that large oak tree that stands near the library."

I swear Diana groaned when I mentioned that tree.

Abigail laughed, "Of course; it’s a landmark, hard to miss."

"Great, let’s say noon. You can pretty much find me most of the day sitting under the tree reading a book."

With the time set, I got one more hug for good measure and soon found myself meandering around the forest singing, "I have a date with a cute girl…I have a date with a cute girl."

OK, maybe it wasn’t a date, but, Abigail was pretty cute.