Forty-five minutes before dinner, Samuel stood in the backyard, drawing back the string of his recurve bow and releasing it with practiced focus. He didn't have a real target yet, so he'd set up a few soda cans wedged between tree branches and even dangled a couple of objects from ropes strung between limbs. He watched it quiver, exhaled slowly, and reached for another.
He wasn't really practicing for accuracy. He even threw a few tennis balls in the air, trying to hit them mid-flight—testing if he was anywhere near The Arrow level. None of them landed even close. One arrow skidded past and thunked into the fence.
He clicked his tongue in frustration.
"Still nowhere near Oliver," he muttered.
Really, he was just trying to calm his nerves. Get into the right mindset. Dinner with the Dunphys wasn't just another meal—it felt like a performance, a test. And the closer it got, the more he felt that buzz of pressure just beneath his skin.
After a few more shots, he headed inside.
Twenty minutes before dinner, Samuel stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his shirt for what felt like the tenth time. The new clothes fit fine—better than his usual rugged forest-worn stuff—but they still felt weird. Too clean. Too normal. He wasn't used to soft collars and shirts without faded patches.
Still, he knew showing up in his old clothes would've been asking for it. He'd survived high school once before in his last life, narrowly dodging the worst of the bullying. There was no way he was going to let himself get torn apart socially right out the gate after reincarnating. Not in this world.
Tomorrow, was the last day before high school started. Maybe he should ask Michael to go clothes shopping with him soon—just as an excuse to bond and look a bit less like he'd been raised by squirrels.
With one last glance at the mirror, he stepped out of the room.
Michael was adjusting the collar of a navy polo shirt, paired with a decent pair of jeans that didn't have any visible paint stains or tears—a rare upgrade from his usual workwear.
Samuel stepped out of his room and met him at the bottom of the stairs, holding the small wrapped box. Michael looked him over with a nod of approval.
"You clean up nice," Samuel said with a faint grin.
Michael gave a soft chuckle. "Well, it's been a while since I've been to a proper family dinner. Last one I remember, your dad and I got into a heated debate about whether knowing how to use power tools made you more self-reliant, or if instinct and adaptability mattered more. He swore by his toolbox. I told him squirrels get by just fine without a cordless drill. We ended up comparing ourselves to squirrels for half an hour."
Samuel blinked. "And?"
"I think I lost when he pulled out a torque wrench to make a point."
Samuel smirked.
Michael gestured toward the door. "Let's not keep the neighbors waiting."
---
Meanwhile, at the Dunphy house, Claire was pacing in the kitchen, muttering under her breath as she stirred the casserole with unnecessary force. The whole thing was Phil's fault. Who just invites strangers over for dinner without checking first?
"Unbelievable," she hissed, slamming the oven door shut. "He just decided, oh sure, let's have a neighborhood dinner—no heads-up, no prep time, nothing. Typical Phil."
Out back, Luke was happily jumping on the trampoline—with a pair of pants on his head.
"Luke!" Claire shouted through the open sliding door. "Those go on your legs, not your head!"
"It's a hat and a helmet!" Luke yelled back, mid-bounce. "Dual purpose!"
Claire groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples.
---
Upstairs – Alex's Room
Alex sat cross-legged on her bed, a thick textbook open across her lap and a highlighter cap between her teeth. The sounds of her mom muttering in the kitchen and Luke yelling nonsense out back weren't helping her focus.
She heard Claire slam something shut, followed by a loud "LUKE!"
Alex sighed, flipping a page harder than necessary. "Why does he act like gravity doesn't apply to him?" she muttered. "I swear, if he gets a concussion before dinner, I'm not explaining it to the paramedics again."
---
Down the Hall – Haley's Room
Haley lounged on her bed, half-scrolling through her phone, half-listening to the chaos in the house. She wasn't planning on coming to dinner. That was before she remembered her dad mentioning the new neighbor kid.
Freshman, huh?
She sat up a little straighter, pulling the curtain back just enough to peek outside.
"Okay," she mumbled, brushing a hand through her hair. "If he's not a disaster… someone's gotta supervise this dinner."
She grabbed her lip gloss from the nightstand and gave herself one approving glance in the mirror.
---
Kitchen – Phil & Claire
Phil stepped into the kitchen proudly holding a set of novelty napkin holders. "Okay, picture this: dinner, conversation, and napkins shaped like swans. Am I the best or the best?"
Claire turned slowly. "Phil, I've got a casserole half-burned, a son who thinks pants are hats, and you just turned dinner into an open mic night."
Phil paused. "So… no swans?"
---
Samuel and Michael walked up the street, drawing closer to the familiar house.
Samuel adjusted his shirt collar as they neared the door.
"You look like you're about to meet royalty," Michael said, amused.
"Feels like it," Samuel muttered.
Michael smirked. "Don't worry. If they make you bow, I'll fake a limp to distract them."
Samuel sighed, straightened his posture, and stepped up to the door.
He knocked once.
From inside, Phil's voice rang out like a kid on Christmas morning. "They're here!"
A moment later, the front door swung open with dramatic enthusiasm, revealing Phil with a grin that practically stretched to his ears.
"You've arrived at Dunphy Central—home of heartfelt chaos and surprisingly edible casseroles!"
Samuel stepped inside, blinking as the sudden brightness of the house hit him.
His eyes scanned the room, catching on the couch. The couch. The same one they always sat on during the interviews. He paused for a split second.
Wait… was that real? Do they have cameras around here? Or was that just some weird TV gimmick? I remember that one episode from The Office where the sound guy gets fired—so maybe… maybe it wasn't all just fourth wall tricks.
He glanced at the corners of the ceiling, half-expecting a red recording light to blink at him.
Okay, no obvious cameras. No hidden mics. No confessional booth disguised as a hallway closet… I think we're good.
Still, he resisted the urge to wave at a random corner of the room. Just in case.
Samuel followed them toward the dining room, where Phil had already struck up a conversation with Michael about the best grilling techniques for backyard burgers. The two of them walked ahead, chatting like old neighbors who'd known each other for years. Every detail felt like déjà vu—except it was all real. The lighting. The smells. The slight creak in the floor by the kitchen doorway. All of it.
How many times did I watch this house on screen while eating microwave dinners? And now I'm here. I'm in it.
From the kitchen, Claire's voice rang out sharp and clear: "Dinner's ready! And we have company!"
Alex closed her book with precision. "Hopefully he knows how to chew with his mouth closed. That's all I ask."
Across the hall, Haley sat up straighter, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and muttered, "Alright, mystery neighbor. Impress me."
And somewhere behind the house, Luke tumbled off the trampoline mid-bounce, yelled "Coming!" and ran inside—pants still on his head.
---
A few minutes later, everyone had gathered around the Dunphy dinner table.
When Haley walked in and saw Samuel sitting at the table, her eyebrows lifted slightly. He looked older than she expected—lean, tall, with that quiet confidence that made her pause. She didn't say anything, but she did take the seat across from him, eyes lingering for just a second longer than necessary.
Alex walked in behind her, took one look at Samuel, and narrowed her eyes like she was running an internal background check. He didn't look like the average freshman, and that immediately made him suspicious in her book. She sat down, notebook nearby, just in case. Plates were passed, drinks were poured, and the scent of baked casserole filled the air. Phil was in full host mode, cracking jokes between bites while trying to keep the bread basket moving.
Samuel sat between Michael and Luke, quietly observing the rhythm of the family.
Claire gave a polite smile across the table. "So Samuel, how are you liking the neighborhood so far?"
Samuel gave a small, thoughtful nod. "It's definitely a big change. But the people in the neighborhood seem nice." He glanced around the table, offering a faint smile. "It's a lot more lively than I'm used to, but… in a good way. It already feels like there's more going on here than I ever had back where I lived before."
Luke, already mid-chew, swallowed and blurted, "Where did you live before?"
Samuel set down his fork. "For the past few years, it was just me and my uncle in the LA forest. No neighbors, no stores, no background noise."
He leaned back a little. "It taught me a lot… but it also made me realize how far I was from everything. I was homeschooled out there, which was fine, but this will be my first time at a real school after a while"
He nodded toward Michael. "He got a job flying helicopters with the LAPD, so we could move closer to the city."
Luke's eyes widened. "Wait—you were homeschooled? That's so cool!"
Samuel laughed—an easy, genuine sound. "Sometimes. But most days, my mornings started really boring—just studying. Once that was done, though, I had the entire forest to myself."
Haley blinked and gave Michael a sideways look. "you're a cop?" Her tone wasn't exactly thrilled—more like someone realizing the party just got a chaperone.
Across the table, Claire raised an eyebrow. "So wait… if you were homeschooled, does that mean this'll be your first time actually going to school—with classrooms, bells, all of that?"
Before Samuel could answer, Michael cut in. "No, when he lived with his parents, he went to school for a bit. But after he moved in with me, I started teaching him myself. Thing is, he was smarter than I expected—picked things up fast. And with his twelfth birthday coming up next week, I figured it was time to move somewhere with more people. Give him more than just trees to talk to."
Claire gave a nod of approval, but Alex raised an eyebrow, eyeing Samuel again from across the table.
Smarter than expected? she thought. He looks like the type who'd get a football scholarship and forget what mitochondria are halfway through sophomore year.
She studied his posture, the way he moved, the calm way he spoke. Too smooth. Too put-together. He's either hiding a C-average brain behind a charming smile or… he's exactly the kind of guy who pretends to be dumb just to mess with people like me.
She shifted in her seat, subtly angling her notebook toward him. I'll test that theory soon enough.
Before Alex could dwell further, Haley tapped her glass and tilted her head toward Samuel.
"So… why do you live with your uncle?"
The table went quiet.
Claire immediately turned to her. "Haley. You don't ask people that."
Haley blinked. "What? I wasn't being rude—"
"You don't ask questions that sound like they come with a trauma warning," Claire said flatly.
Samuel calmly set down his fork. "It's alright. I don't mind."
He looked at Haley, then around the table. "My parents died in a car crash when I was seven. After that, I moved in with Michael."
I still remembered the sound of the glass. The silence that followed. Some days it felt like the world hadn't made a sound since.
Samuel kept his voice calm, even. "It was a long time ago, but I still remember everything."
Michael gave him a quiet nod of approval. "He's been through a lot. But he's tough."
The table fell into a brief, respectful silence before Phil, of course, broke it.
"Well, now that you know a Dunphy," he said, trying to lift the mood, "that means you're basically royalty at school."
Haley smirked and passed by Samuel with her plate. "Or a walking target. Depends on the Dunphy."
Samuel blinked, then shook his head with a quiet laugh.
Yeah. This is going to be interesting.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, letting the noise of the room wash over him.
It wasn't a forest. It wasn't silence. But maybe… maybe this was better. People. Noise. Chaos.
Maybe this was what home could sound like.