Hello! I come here from the future to leave this author's note.

I need to say some stuff.

1. Thanks for clicking on my book!

2. I wrote this when I was 13. I think it's okay, but be warned that I will be rewriting this book in the future. People have still enjoyed it, nevertheless. (:

3. I realize that the first few chapters seem really stupid. I went through and read this for myself a while back, and I could hardly stand it. But if you get past the agonizing first few chapters, you'll start barfing feels. Seriously.

4. I love votes and I would love to know what you think! So enjoy!!

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Name: Natalie Cace

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Date of Birth:

March 17th. I write it on the empty line.

Today is my birthday. A new year at Madame Catherine's Orphanage. A year can bring a series of changes. A new height, a new weight, a new age. All of the information must be concrete for the new parents.

But I won't get any. Cathy never bothered to say it to my face, but teenagers don't get adopted. Now I'm the oldest one, but next year will be my last year filling out my personal information, because at eighteen I'll be asked to move out.

Height: 5' 7"

Weight: 129 lbs.

Hair Color: Dark brown

Eye Color: Brown

Background (list prominent):

•White

•Asian

I don't look Asian. Most people don't believe me when I tell them. They say my eyes are too big.

How offensive.

But I certainly can't deny that my eyes are big, even when compared to someone who isn't Asian.

My whole heritage was European until my great grandfather married an Asian. It fascinates me that one person can change everything. How your children look. What they put on their information form.

I sigh and stand up. I am in the girl's dorm. It's an attic room, long and narrow with a slanted roof. There are about fifteen beds on the windowed side of the room, all dressed in worn, faded, patchwork quilts and flat pillows, but comfortable all the same. The other side of the room, where the roof slants up, is lined with miscellaneous mirrors, a few vanities, and eight dressers. Approximately two girls per dresser.

I share mine with my best friend, Jill. She is the second oldest girl, at age twelve. How I envy the babies and children that never have to stay for too long.

But Jill has been here since she was five. Who wouldn't adopt a cute little redhead with freckles? Probably anyone, except that she's a package deal.

You can't take a girl and leave her twin brother, or vice versa. Most people in this little town only want one child. Why double the paperwork when you could adopt a pretty blond instead?

Jill and her brother, Preston, don't have it much peachier than I.

I exit the door on the far end of the room. The door to the boy's dorm is right across from ours. But I am not headed there. Instead I turn right, and go down the stairs to the Main Room.

The Main Room has a very big television and about six leather couches, all worn and torn from generations of orphans.

Orphans.

I hate that word.

I turn and head into the kitchen where I find Cathy frosting two large rectangular cakes.

Cathy is a lovely woman. She's around 40, I'd say, and a little shorter than me. Her blond curls are often pulled back into a loose bun, and smile lines are apparent around her mouth and on her forehead.

"I'm finished with my paperwork, Cathy," I say, holding the papers out to her.

"Great! Let me take these to my office and then we can start the festivities, shall we? Watch the cake, please."

I nod as she exits the room with the papers. I step around the counter. The cabinets are lightly stained pine, and the counters are cream colored. The floors are an off-white laminate tile. The place could use an update, but it's unlikely we'll get one anytime soon.

From the other side of the counter appears the top of a blond head. Liam, the orphanage pest. At nine years old, he's broken more windows and plates than anyone I've ever known combined.

No way is he going to touch my cake.

"Liam!" I snap.

He jumps up. "Boo!"

I glare at him.

"Give me the cake," he demands.

"No, you have to wait till Cathy gets back."

"But I want all of it."

"Happy birthday to you, too."

"Whose birthday is it?"

"Mine! Now shoo!"

"Never!" He shakes a fist in the air. "I'll break something!"

"Please, no! Cathy doesn't have money for more plates!"

He walks to the sink, picks up a plate, and dangles it over his head. This is exactly why he never has to wash the dishes, and it's really not fair to the rest of us.

"Liam..." I try to warn him, but he just holds it higher.

Behind him, I see a barefooted Jill tiptoeing up to him. I try to prevent my smile from appearing as she gets really close to him and then snatches the plate from his hand.

"Hey!" Liam complains, just as Preston rounds the corner and drags him to the rocking chair by the screen door.

Preston's brown hair is combed to perfection, unlike Jill's red mess. He maintains his cool while he pins the child down.

I laugh. Preston and Jill can always cheer me up. Preston is a brainiac and he always cracks me up, which confuses him because he doesn't even try to be funny. Jill has a great attitude and she can make anyone happy. She emits some sort of aura that defeats all things sad and depressing.

Jill turns to me. "There you are! I wanted to tell you, Cathy measured me this morning, and I'm 5' 4" now! Do you think I'm growing?"

"Of course you are," I smile, "You're twelve!"

"Thirteen next month!" She beams. "Can you French braid my hair? Cathy might be taking party pictures, and I want to look decent."

"Sure. Turn around."

I comb my fingers through her long, silky, red hair before breaking it into smaller sections and pulling them into a flawless French braid. Clearly, she has me do it quite often.

Liam yells from his chair as Preston struggles to keep him pinned down, but I ignore them.

"I wish my hair was wavy, like yours." Jill says. "It's always pretty enough for a party."

I guess I was pretty lucky to get such nice hair. It's as silky as Jill's, with waves that almost don't look natural.

I smile.

"I'm so glad my birthday is coming up!" She mentions again. "April 2nd! I'm almost a teenager!"

I chuckle. "I remember when I turned thirteen. My mom bragged to everyone about how grown up I was."

My mouth twitches. Mom would have loved to see me now.

Before I can tear up, Cathy enters the room again. I finish Jill's braid with an elastic from around my wrist.

She walks to the wall, where a series of buttons we are lucky to have are positioned. One of them is labeled, "Party Button". It's time to celebrate my birthday.