From Burger Barn to Billionaire's Trap

ger than the entire apartment I'd shared with three different foster families. Pink ru

ed cage. Enjoy the fluf

compliance. They were, in a way

t set of foster parents were neglectful drunks. Before them, it was a family wh

shed home, buzzing, to tell my then-foster mother. She'd ju

tory of an overach

rd knot in my stomach. It drove

days later, finding me lounging by their Olympic

b-Down" proceeding as planned

-girl expression. "It's oka

t, chimed in. "What can we

es and mindless entertain

. I was thinking, maybe I could try some of those fancy SAT prep

anged a quick, almost

she for real or is this a

. This wasn't in the

"SAT prep? But sweeti

it. I just want to feel included. Like, experience it? And those really expens

nsive SAT prep a hobby. This gi

around me. "Sure, babe. If that's what you want. We

r just really committe

ent eyes, "maybe you could help me? Like, drive me

sanctuary. My

ng him to the library! He's

a split second. "The librar

oot canal. But he has

need a new laptop. Top of

ooking suspicious. They were s

eir own demise. This i

re having a fiel