I’m not in charge of where I’m going to be. That’s not a new feeling. Life with Mom was always lived on the edge of maybe waking up in the middle of the night to pack a bag and never come back. Or finding an eviction notice stapled to the door. It wasn’t up to me then and it isn’t up to me now. I don’t know how long I’ll be with the Joels, or if I’ll get put into something more permanent like an orphanage or whatever and have to change districts.
