Parents and Son Under Attack Chapter 8

When the weekend came, the vast campus seemed to have only me left. I'd planned to study intently at the library, but unexpectedly Sarah knocked on my dorm door.

She and the principal knew I wasn't going home on weekends either. Worried I'd be lonely alone, they specially came to invite me to lunch. Having lived long under the Grant family's favoritism and neglect, I especially treasured others' kindness.

The kind principal and warm, sunny Sarah gave me a long-missed sense of home. There really were people in the world who would constantly think of me and consider me.

From my enrollment onward, every weekend I spent with the principal's family. The principal said having the willpower to study was good, but being too tense wasn't conducive to absorbing knowledge. As for the Grant family, without me they were probably quite happy—they'd never even called to ask me home.

In my interactions with the principal's family, I gradually opened my heart, regaining some of the innocence and vitality proper for my age. The principal even looked at me gently and said:

"I always wanted a son. If only you were my son."

No one knew how much those words moved me, because in my previous life I'd overheard a conversation between Dad and Ethan:

"Ethan, you're so talented at painting. If only you were my biological son."

Remembering that painful moment, my eyes reddened slightly. Sarah quickly wiped my tears with her sleeve:

"It's just a joke. I'm not really going to kidnap you to my house. Don't cry."

But the principal caught my real emotion and couldn't help asking what had happened between me and my family. Hearing about Ethan, Sarah was so shocked her jaw nearly dropped.

"Your parents abandoned such an excellent biological son for that drama-queen adopted son? Are they under a spell?"

"His eyes are diseased, not blind yet. Why does everything have to accommodate him?"

The principal tapped Sarah's forehead, warning her to watch her words. Then the principal pulled me into her arms, stroking my back like a mother:

"From now on, be my godson. Such a good child—if they don't want you, I do."

I buried myself in the principal's embrace, sobbing. Beside us, Sarah muttered quietly:

"If he becomes your son, doesn't that make us siblings?"