I didn't live in the Foster Care building all my life. I'd had homes so stable that they lasted a whole month. Which, for me, was a long time.

I remembered the longest home I'd ever stayed in. It was a young couple and the woman, Tracy, was so soft-hearted and she just loved children. She'd always point them out and "aww" when she saw a baby somewhere public.

So, naturally, she wanted one of her own. The only problem was, she couldn't have children. She was physically incapable of giving birth or even conceiving a baby, as far as the doctors knew. So, being the kind woman she was, she decided to, not adopt a child, but make an attempt to influence a poor Foster Child's life in a better way by giving them a home.

I was a special case in the building. No one knew where I came from. I was never told. I never asked. But I knew it wasn't like the others.

Austin Fox's mother was simply in jail for nine years, so she'd be back and, maybe, she'd want him back then. She never said she didn't.

Jayden Rogers' mom was taking some time to finish school and get her own life back on track through rehab. After she was an acceptable mother, Jayden could then be raised by her. If she still wanted her, that is. She never said she did.

We lived in the smallest town in New York and each kid inside that little yellow wood building had a story to be told. Except me. I didn't know mine. And that's exactly why I was special.

And, because of that, I almost believed that the Tracy situation was permanent. It almost was.

She was filing for an actual adoption when the impossible happened.

Tracy was pregnant.

I still don't know why she had to give me back to the Foster Home. Was two children just too much for a kid-loving woman like her? She never gave me a logical reason and the next day, a car pulled up and I never saw her sweet face again.

The other homes were less happy during it and not at all heart-wrenching when I had to leave. Because I always ended up leaving. It seemed that after Tracy, they only got worst.

So there I was, at the age of nineteen, the oldest one, walking to what was the only place that I knew I could always go into. I guess that's what home is suppose to feel like.

I know what you're thinking. I'm nineteen. You're a legal adult at eighteen in America, able to move out and take care of yourself. But, because of my "special situation" I didn't have to. And I didn't see myself as someone with the ability to take care of myself then.

So I was just another adult in the house, although I looked like I was about fifteen. Because of that, most kids believed I still belonged, and treated me just like one of them.

I wish I could say that was a good thing.

"PATRICK JOHNSON YOU GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE OR I'LL RIP YOUR LIMBS OFF!"

That was the incredibly pleasing sound that greeted my ears as I entered the yellow house.

"Shut up Austin. You wanna end up where your mom did?" The other kid, twelve year old Patrick spat.

It should have been a low blow but that was a rare thing around here. Kids brought forth personal lives and the pain beneath it so much, it no longer stung.

"Kyra!" Austin shouted gleefully, spotting me, and the short blonde ran to my safety.

I sighed and removed his grimy fingers from their clasp around my stomach. He pointed to Patrick with the other hand.

"Patrick won't fight me!" He complained.

"You're too little. I'd break you." Patrick retorted with a snort. His eyes then fell on me and he smiled mischievously. "Ky though..."

"Oh no," I said and left the living room to find one of the actual adults. Because I wasn't one, not really.

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun! What are you, scared?"

I didn't reply, only scoffed and checked the kitchen.

No adult in there.

Instead, there was fifteen year old May, attempting baking something and failing so bad I didn't even know what it was.

When she looked up she startlingly resembled a deer in the headlights, her brown eyes wide and mouth falling open.

I cursed under my breath and she managed a smile. "Hey there, Ky..."

"Hi." My eyes scoped out the image in front of me. A massive amount of ingredients littered not only the counters, but broken eggs and bag-less four were spread across the floor. May had oven mittens on but wasn't even taking anything out of it, although smoke seeped from the cracks. She was stirring something of a sick brown/green/black color and had a speck of whipped cream on her cheek.

She cleared her throat. "Um, do you happen to know how to make.." She brushed flour off of a paper on the counter and squinted at it. "Shoot cake?"

I felt my face scrunch up. "Shoot cake?"

She looked back down at it and broke into a smile. "Sheet cake."

"Um... no..."

She nodded and pursed her lips, gazing at her surroundings like I had just done.

"You should probably get what's in the oven out, though..."

Her face lit up in realization. "Oh! Right!" She said and scampered to it, breaking into a coughing fit when she pulled the door open.

"May?" I shouted over all the commotion as Patrick and Austin burst through the door.

She looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

"Where's Miss. Abramson?"

"She left."

My mouth fell open. No....

"What? She quit??"

May laughed so hard she lost her grip on the oven door and it slammed shut.

"No she left to get her granddaughter. Her daughter decided to go on a date with the father last minute and it was so important that Miss. A had to leave immediately. I don't know why... But she called Miss. Black as a replacement and she should be here soon... So, I thought I'd have a nice treat ready for when she gets here." She smiled nervously.

The old hag, Miss. Abramson's granddaughter was the product of a scandalous situation between her daughter and the father. Miss. Abramson had been encouraging the two to get married since, but they weren't on very good terms after the pregnancy tests came. I didn't know all the details but I was sure the woman was ecstatic that the parents of her granddaughter were going on a date.

So, of course, she had to leave and put May Barley in charge. Besides me, she was the oldest. There was two other fifteen year olds, too, but May was almost sixteen and so she was the boss when the boss left. Which was never. Until her daughter decided to go probably make another child. On accident, of course.

"When exactly will Miss. Black be here?"

As if on cue, a stream of light shot through the one little kitchen window, and it was the only thing missing from May's deer-in-the-headlights expression that returned.

"BLACK'S HERE!" Austin bellowed and fled the disaster room to warn the others.

First a fight with my best friend, then I get caught stealing, then I'm forced to clean a mess I had no part in creating in the time span that Miss. Black took to gather her courage to leave the car and enter the building.

We never expected to get in done in time. But we at least thought clearing the floor was reasonable.

And it might've been.

If not for the cake exploding.

•••

It was night by the time the kitchen was deemed acceptable. All the eligible kids pitched in. To be eligible, you had to have two working legs, one working arm, and be at least seven. I ended up dismissing some for the sake of getting it done easier because in a small room, an extensive number of people cleaning isn't always a good thing.

But we got done in time to watch a show before "bedtime".

I didn't watch it, though. Instead, I raced to the older girls' room- me including- and sat on my bed, beginning the scheming of my amazing plan.

Three hours later and I was sneaking out into the cold night air, wishing I'd brought a jacket and hoping everything would go as I planned it to.

No one caught me on my way out. All the children were sound asleep and the ones in my room were the deepest ones, being the teenage girls they were.

Miss. Black's snore was as loud as ever when I shut the door quietly behind me, smiling to myself and mentally checking off step one in my head.

Step 1.) Sneak out without getting caught

Then I was on step two.

Step 2.) Text your trustworthy companion

Me: Hi, I know it's late but this is very important. Please text back ASAP. It's REALLY important.

My exaggeration had never failed me, and it didn't then. My phone lit up and beeped before I even had the chance to put it back in my pocket.

Mackenna: What's wrong??

Me: Meet me at the Cameron's Cafe.

Mackenna: Is it that important? I'm in bed

Me: Trust me, Max. It is.

There was a pause and I thought she wasn't ping to reply at all. But then she did.

Mackenna: Don't call me Max

I smiled in the empty darkness surrounding me and made my last few steps to Cameron's cafe which wasn't actually owned by any Cameron since she was convicted for stealing money from the shop that was to be her worker's. Nevertheless, the name stayed the same, and I was standing awkwardly inside the only 24-hour cafe I knew of.

"What's up?" Mackenna asked when she burst though the glass doors, her voice breathy as she put one hand on her hip and ran the other one through her silky, short, black hair.

I nodded my head to a booth and but my lip, praying that step 3 would be a success.

Step 3.) Get Mackenna to agree to help

It would be a struggle, I knew that. But I also knew I was determined. I'd have to say things in just the right order, lather them in desperation, and use my wonderful vocabulary to make it seem as brilliant to her ears as it was to mine.

I dropped my voice to a whisper and looked her deep in the eyes. "You know the Public Records building over there?" I jolted my head to the left.

Her eyebrows knitted together but she didn't say anything, using her big brown eyes to urge me on.

This was it. This was the moment where I'd reveal the beauty of the plan in such a way that she'd be an idiot to refuse being a part of it.

"I'm going to break into it."

Everything after that happened really fast, but at happened wasn't much. After Mackenna stared at me for a while longer, with so much emotions on her face that it seemed like there was none, she lifted herself from her seat and left the cafe, the door slamming behind her.

Quickly, I scrambled from my chair and raced to follow her.

When we were both outside she turned around to face me with a wild look.

She brushed some hair out of her face so she could yell at me properly. "Are you out of your mind?"

I sighed. "Yes, but it'll be fine. Just a quick in-and-out so I can get what I need."

She broke eye contact and crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw clenching as she rocked on her heels.

"I just... need to know who she is, Mackenna..." I said quietly, forcing her to look back into my pleading eyes of raw, sincere emotion with my burning stare.

"Kyra, when are you going to give up?" Her face scrunched into desperation and confusion.

I set a hard expression. "When I find out who my mom is."

Mackenna threw her hands into the night air out of exasperation. "Maybe, she doesn't want you to know! Ever thought of that?"

I didn't know how much muscles I was using in my face until it all fell slack. "I don't know why I thought you would understand. You know where you're from. You always have."

She sighed. "It's not about that. It's about breaking the law!"

"Well I'm not going to find out anything any other way." I growled, sending a glare to my best friend whom I'd never fought with more in my life than this very day.

She shook her head and shrugged. "Look, if you want to do this, then fine. But I'm not going to be any part of it."

She took a step away from me backwards and I lost all hope. Step three had failed.

I nodded grimly and cleared my throat, giving up. "But... umm.. Mackenna?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"If all goes to worst... don't rat me out."

She pursed her lips before nodding. "I won't," she said, and walked away.

I watched her until she faded away into the night then I tuned my attention to the building looming over me.

My plan would go on.

Step 4.) Break the law