As specimens go, they always get excited about me. I’m a good one. A showstopper. I’m the kind of kid they’ll still inquire about ten years later. Fifty-one placements, drug problems, violence, dead adopted mum, no biological links, constant offending. Tick, tick, tick. I lure them in to begin with. Cultivate my specimen face. They like that. Do-gooders are vomit-worthy. Damaged goods are dangerous.
