I've got a text waiting on my phone, and I don't have to look at it to see it's Matteo. He's the only person who has my number and, really, he's the last piece of my old life I have left. The the same icy fingers of fear up my spine as I read his text. This town doesn't feel the same without you. Come home soon. I snort, but there isn't much I can say to him without some sort of consequences. Matteo D’Ardo was another foster kid, and four years older than me. We met at school, and he had taken me under his wing even before my mom died and I wound up in the system. He was dangerous. More
...more
