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does agree to be tested and he learns that you’re his child, I’m sure it would have an impact on his life,” Maggie said.
    â€œWhat if I don’t want to go with him? What if he’s some creep who’s just as messed up as my mother? Then what?”
    â€œWell, we’d never put you in a situation where you’re in danger of being harmed. If your biological father has a criminal record or is unable to care for you, then you’d be able to remain at the group home until you turn eighteen years old. At that point, you’d be free to go forward and live your life.”
    â€œIt sounds like a real jacked-up deal,” I said as I wiped a tear from my eye. I was trying not to cry.
    Maggie pulled into a gas station and turned off the car. She repositioned herself to look directly at me. I refused to make eye contact with her. I continued to look out the window at people who were walking by.
    â€œIf you’re thinking about running away from the group home let me give you a few things to consider. The streets are very cold at night. You wouldn’t know where you’d be sleeping or where your next meal would come from. You run the risk of being attacked or taken advantage of by people who don’t have your best interests in mind. All I’m trying to do is help you. If the situation with your biological father doesn’t end with ‘happily ever after’ then you still have the option of finishing your education and even going to college. Hang in there, get your education so that you can locate a good job and support yourself. You seem like a very nice girl who has been dealt a very bad hand, and I’d hate to see you crumble apart. Your situation is bad but I’ve seen worse,” Maggie explained. I still didn’t say anything to her.
    â€œLook. All I’m asking is that you stay at the group home if things don’t work out for the best.”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter. If this guy is anything like my mother, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me,” I said sarcastically. “I don’t care what happens to me anymore.”
    â€œBe positive, Keysha. Perhaps he will care once he’s made aware of your situation.” I finally turned and looked her directly in the eyes.
    â€œNo one has ever cared about me or loved me, with the exception of my Grandmother Rubylee, who is in jail. I might as well step in front of a bus and kill myself.”
    â€œWell, since you feel that way, maybe I shouldn’t bother trying to contact this man,” Maggie said as she started the motor back up and continued on.
    We finally stopped in front of the group home, which was a brown brick bungalow-style structure. The screen door had black burglar bars on it, and the wooden banisters on the front porch needed to be repainted. The brushes around the property were overgrown, and the grass had been completely neglected. All the way at the top of the structure I noticed three small windows, which I assumed was the attic.
    Maggie pressed the latch for the trunk and was about to get out of the car when I stopped her by speaking up.
    â€œContact him,” I said. “Maybe fairy tales do come true.”
    â€œOkay,” said Maggie.

Chapter 8
    M aggie took me inside the group home and up to the attic, which had been converted to office space for the adult supervisors. I sat in a chair beside a desk and awaited further instructions. There was one girl who was about my age who was standing at the file cabinet filing. When she saw me she stopped working and glared at me.
    â€œWhy don’t you take a picture, it lasts longer,” I snapped at her. She continued to study me for a moment longer before continuing on with her work. It was noisy in the office. Old-fashioned typewriters were dinging, drawers were constantly being opened and closed and the phone rang constantly. The desks and equipment up there were very old and appeared to be