CHAPTER 2
I know I’m probably breaking two or three of the Ten Commandments right now, but I can’t help checking the time on my phone every thirty seconds. It’s not that I hate church. I’m not that kind of person. I know some people believe that Christians are all self-righteous hypocrites, but I could never say that. Not after living with Sandy. I sometimes go months without thinking about my past, about the anonymous foster parents that gel together in my memory like giant, faceless blobs. But it’s different with her. It’s hard to say where I’d be if Sandy hadn’t taken me in. Probably so strung out on drugs my teeth would have fallen out and my hair gone frizzy like in those posters warning kids against meth. I’m proud to say I haven’t touched the stuff. In fact, I could count on one ha
