Dad says there’s reporters outside. Apparently, I’m a big deal, and most of the country is celebrating that I’ve been found. Since 99.9 percent of them didn’t know I existed until I was gone, I know better than to be flattered. Dad shows me on his phone where someone started a fund for my medical bills, and while the donation amount is big and the number keeps growing every time he refreshes it, I somehow doubt it’s going to be enough.
