’ ‘I’ve always knew you were a smart boy,’ pop laughed. ‘But don’t worry about picking up Cindy. You go out and have fun with your friends... Find yourself a nice girl or maybe a not so nice girl…’ ‘Pop!’ I cried, but then laughed along with him. It took quite a while for him and mom to forgive me for running away to Las Vegas last fall and it changed our relationship, but in some ways it was better. Pop had decided that I was eighteen and a man now. Mom would probably never accept that, but that. Her dark brownish red hair hung to her collarbone, and her thin pale frame seemed awkward and lost in her uniform. I recognized her instantly as one of the new wards. She had bare feet; a typical sign of a new ward. Socks and slip on shoes cost money at the small convenience store downstairs. Four others sat with her and engaged in conversation. I recognized the others as petty criminals. Lauren Withers, a bipolar twenty-one year old, who had beaten some other children her age during one of her. More

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