MY PARENTS WALKED AWAY FROM ME AT THE HOSPITAL WHEN I WAS 13 — MY MOTHER WENT PALE WHEN THE DEAN CALLED MY NAME

of what I owned—she led me inside.

“This is your room,” she said, opening a door upstairs.

I stepped inside and froze.

The walls were painted soft lavender, my favorite color, which I had only mentioned once. A brand-new bed sat against the wall beneath a purple comforter. A bookshelf was already filled with young adult novels, and a desk stood beside continue reading …