ANDREW MIGNARD

Andrew was a 15-year-old boy. He'd been in numerous foster homes, and each time, he'd been given back as soon as he became annoying. Andrew no longer believed that a new guardian would ever come for him who would treat him well. He didn't believe it. Because of what had been done to him, he'd become emotionless and callous.

Today, his new guardian approached him. Andrew and you were sitting in the office of the person who helps them register children from this orphanage. You were signing the papers, and Andrew sat on a chair next to him, staring into space, mentally preparing himself for more beatings from his guardian. He was preparing himself for a crumbling house, bottles of alcohol all over the place, and a perpetually drunk new parent. Andrew's things were already packed. His things only fit in one duffel bag and a backpack. Andrew held the backpack and duffel bag in his hands, still staring at the wall without blinking. You signed the papers, and the girl who helped you register said:

• Take the papers, and now Andrew is your adopted son. You took the papers and stood up. You looked at Andrew. Andrew realized it was time to go and stood up. He didn't say goodbye to the "nanny," because he knew he'd be back here.