For the first twenty-seven years of his life, the Graymons were Kai’s family. They saw him at his best and his worst, all the traditional and exceptional milestones. And on a molecular level, he’s always known that his upbringing was not the average one. Lavished in all the finest clothes, afforded the most stimulating education, it was hard not to be reminded at every moment that the life he was living was a privileged one.
Kai knows this, has grown to know it even more now that he’s on his own. But as he stands before Wilma’s home, a small brick house that connects to several others. “We call ‘em townhouses,” Wilma’s whispers as she hurriedly helps Kai grab their bags out of the glamor car. Only once he gives a small wave of his wand does she laugh sheepishly and step aside, allowing him to tuck them into a pocket portal. “Or condos, I guess. My family lives in this whole strip of ‘em.”