No. 62 Claremond Street

6 // Greetings

The teenage shapeshifter stands near the front door of No. 62 with his lips slightly parted, wanting to say something. His throat though doesn't generate a single sound. Say it, Tom. Something... He blinks, realizing he's been staring at his fellow schoolmate for too long.

How is 'The Queen Bee of 1984' Senorita Chloe Serrano here? Tom made sure to zip his mouth during his final week of 9th Grade in April. Nobody in Maven Academy knows they've shifted places.

"Hi," Chloe says, after a long moment of daydreaming. All her plans of how she would interrogate the reserved shapeshifter vanished the femtosecond her gaze fell on those sharp and cute- really hazy black eyes. 

Chloe smiles with all her teeth, trying to stop herself from tapping her foot at supersonic speed by shifting in her place every minute or so; creaky crescendos a reply from the old but durable porch.

Watching this, Milo clears his throat. They have no time to waste. Their parents would come out of their hiding places any minute. "Hello. We're your new neighbors." He points a thumb over his shoulder, at the posh house across the street. "From number 61." 

"Oh," Tom manages to replies. Why didn't he check this before? And, if the Serranos are living here, then there would be other superhuman families- wait a second. Who's the curly-haired boy beside his schoolmate, and why does he think he's seen him before?

"This is Milo, my brother," Chloe blurts out, patting Milo on the shoulder. She's about five-foot five, just a few inches taller than him. 

"Oh right. The new member," Tom says, gaze still on the familiar boy. News of the Serranos welcoming a new member into the family spread months before they actually found one. It's difficult to find when nobody was willing to be adopted.

This boy must be special, no, desperate.

 "Sorry, but can I ask which orphanage were you in before?" 

Milo arches a brow. Does he know him? Well, he doesn't. "Trenston. Why?"

"I thought I saw you near one," Tom says. He and Tony have lived in Trenston orphanage before; the first one of the six they've been to since their parents died. But not for long. Apparently there were a lot of food that went missing from the pantry when they were there. 

It's partly true. Tom did sneak up on the canned pineapples, the berry tarts and the chicken pot pie. But so did the rest of the orphans.

Chloe crinkles her forehead. "You mean Saintsburg? Like you saw Milo there?"

Tom exhales slowly, trying to not widen his eyes in surprise. How does she know? He hasn't told anyone he's been living in orphanages, let along Sainstburg. "I didn't get what you asked." 

Chloe laughs nervously. Has she been speaking too fast? She clears her throat. "We went to Saintsburg Church last year, to meet the Elementist?"

"Oh yeah," Tom realizes. That day was terrible; he had to hide Tony in an attic infested with grime and rats. It was either that or to face Diselhock's wrath. 

"Were you from Sainstburg orphanage?" he asks. He has to know who he is.

"Um, yeah," Milo answers, rubbing the back of his hand, clearly uncomfortable by the new neighbor's questions. "But it was a long time ago."

Tom gives a slight nod. He slightly remembers him before, maybe from passing by while cleaning the narrow corridors or scraping off the grime from the huge oven in the kitchen. But not in any of the bounds albums of Hell or the tattered church journals that would boast of the numerous children's lives they've reformed.