“There’s a woman in the dining room who wants to speak with you,” my foster mom says when I get downstairs. Her eyes are rimmed with dark circles and she’s wearing one of her ridiculous aprons. This one is pink and says, Life is precious, handle with prayer. The TV in the living room isn’t blasting sports at full volume, so my foster dad must be working late again. He’s been doing overtime more and more these days.

From what I’ve gathered, the Robertsons couldn’t have children of their own and thought they would do some good by taking in foster kids. A worthy goal, but they got in over their heads and now they’re barely keeping it together. They’re overworked and underpaid and have no idea how to deal with six kids who’ve all been through hell and back.

Once we turn eighteen, they’re done. The instant the checks stop coming, we’ll be out on the street. Everyone here knows it, and there’s nothing we can do. The Robertsons are doing the best they can, just like the rest of us. It’s the system that’s messed up.

One of the other girls living here races through the hallway and up the stairs, followed by another one who yells, “Give that back. It’s mine!”

Mrs. Robertson pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “Go on. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

“Thanks.”

I hold my breath as I head to the dining room, steeling myself for what’s coming. It has to be a social worker, even though our weekly meetings are always scheduled in the afternoon. But who else would come to see me?

A woman in a sleek, black pantsuit waits inside, examining my foster mom’s collection of tiny elephants. Her silky, brown hair has blond highlights, and she carries a slim, leather briefcase. After years in the system I’m an expert on social workers, and this woman isn’t one of them. Her clothes are too nice, and she doesn’t have that world-weary look in her eyes.

“Elena Martinez, I presume?” The woman extends her hand, with perfectly white-tipped nails. She has a firm handshake. “My name is Lynne Marshall. I’m from Aether Corporation.”

I raise my eyebrows. Aether Corporation is one of the biggest tech companies in the world. My hand-me-down cell phone is made by them, along with the ancient computer in the office we all have to share. I can’t think of a single reason why would someone from Aether Corp would want to speak with me.

Lynne sits in one of the rickety, wooden chairs and sets her briefcase on the scratched-up table. I hesitate in the doorway, still trying to figure out what this woman could want, before finally sitting across from her.