help but fear that I didn’t share their fates. “I went home my first day of first grade and asked my foster mom if she was mine. She gave me a round-a-bout answer and that’s the day I knew I was different. That was the day I knew I belonged to no one and steeled myself for a difficult life. I don’t know how I knew, but at six, I had already figured it out. “I was a pretty good kid, school became my life because I had nothing else. I made it my life’s goal to be worth something to myself as I was the only one interested enough to care. I, too, was thrown from family to family for one reason or another. I tumbled about New York City never really forming friendships for fear they’d just disappoint me further than I already was. I was afraid that a loss like that would be the bitter pill that would kill the little spirit I had left. “I trusted no one, until the age of fourteen, when a boy introduced himself to me as Alan Moss. He was cool and non-judgemental. I started hanging with him a lot. “By the time we were fifteen, Alan and I had become best friends. I didn’t allow myself to get very close to the guy, like I said, I never allowed that void to be filled until Charlie and Cherry but, I admit, Alan was a really good friend and I was as loyal to him as I possibly could be. “By our sophomore year though, Alan became distant. We hadn’t talked for weeks but out of the blue he called me and invites me to this party, letting me know that Keiko was going to be there. This was after our kiss in eighth grade, of course, but I still liked the hell out of her. So, I told him I’d be there. I met up with him that night but the party was not what I thought it was. People laid about like idiots, laughing at the most ridiculous things and I knew they were high as kites.
“ Alan came bounding up to me, acting so different. He teased me incessantly until I agreed to try the small purple pill he held out to me in a tiny plastic bag.” I sighed audibly. “I stupidly swallowed the pill.
“ After that, Alan and I got high every weekend for two months. We both became addicted but I believe Alan was even more so than I. The first week we decided to ditch class to get high, I knew I needed to stop and I did. Cold turkey. And it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be but Alan...Alan couldn’t do it. He started ignoring me once again, ditching class, then school altogether. “Several weeks later, I got a frantic call from him. He’d been to his dealer’s house to get more stuff but ran out of money and the guy was essentially holding him hostage for the rest of his money. Alan begged me to bring him some cash. I agreed but on the condition that he agreed to seek help, immediately. “When I showed up, they’d already beat the living hell out of the guy. I refused to hand the dealer the cash personally and made Alan come get it from me. When he returned from paying his dealer off, I practically had to drag him home. Alan refused to go in and I knew that if I didn’t stay with him that the guy was going to kill himself. I brought him to my foster parents and snuck him into my room, stupidly thinking he hadn’t taken any drugs at the dealer’s house, that he needed the money so desperately to pay off old debts. “But I was wrong. I’d fallen asleep after babysitting him for a few hours. I woke up early, around five or so, to a sleeping Alan, or at least I thought he was sleeping. “Oh, God. No,” Harper said, brining her hand to mouth. “I tried to shake him awake but he wouldn’t,” I choked out. “I beat the hell out of his chest, begging him to wake but he wouldn’t. My foster parents came into my room and tried to revive him but there was no use. He’d been dead for hours. “My foster parents refused to believe I wasn’t using as well and kicked me out. I ended up at my last foster home that week.” Harper
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