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cut herself; I guess that's how she let it out I just scream, even though I know what it gets me.

"SHUT UP, BOY!" Mom yells.
"SHUT UP THAT SCREAMING!"

I shut up. I shut up when I felt the sting of her ruler across my side, but not before I tore the towel rack off the wall in the bathroom. I never did that at my real home, I don't know why I do it now.

"I want my Mommy!"

"I want my Mommy and my name's not Boy!"

Visit Day on Tuesday is the best day of my life but Visit Day night is almost as horrible as Visit Day morning was fantastic. I think I'd be as quiet as a mouse if it mattered, but it doesn't. It doesn't matter what we do, we always do something wrong to Mom and Dad I feel like I'm only here for them to get me to do things for them that they don't want to do, and to cuss at. I hate it that they make us call them Mom and Dad.

Yesterday, my foster brother tried to break my neck. He's the oldest. There are 3 other foster brothers. 4 foster sisters too. In my old life, I would've yelled for help, but not here. I learned that the first week. I yelled for help and they helped all right helped choke me and hold me down. Even Lil' Sis sat on me, but I know why and I'm not mad at her. She's afraid of them too, like me. But she knows I won't hurt her later, so she sits on me, but not hard. Sometimes I see her looking at me and I can almost hear her saying she's sorry with her eyes. I wonder if she hears me wishing she was Wonder Woman and could save me.

I'd become that green guy with all the muscles and save her if I could; I'd save all the children, even the mean ones. I think sometimes the other kids are mean because they're mad they are here. Maybe they learned that screaming doesn't do any good but I bet they didn't used to be mean in their old life. Like me, and the towel rack; we are all changing now that we are here.

I gave Lil' Sis my white shirt when she came in, because she didn't have any shirts that fit. I try to protect her as much as I can, even from Mom.

Especially now, ever since the night I call the "cord night".

I could still feel the stinging on my side and butt from the ruler the night before. "It's almost Tuesday, it's almost Tuesday" I kept telling myself as I try to ignore the stinging and get ready to go to sleep. Dad was in the bathroom fixing the towel rack when it happened. Mom was mad too and got madder as Dad was calling me bad names for breaking the rack last night. He kept saying that they didn't get paid enough money for the things that

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