My heart beat at a rabbit's pace as I walked up the cement steps to a small building set on a hill. I took a deep breath in an effort to allow even a sliver of calm to permeate the sense of dread that engulfed my mind and body. I stole a quick glance at my younger brother, briefly grateful that I didn't have to face this completely alone. I walked through the front doors to the office directly inside. The secretary directed me to a room off to the right which turned out to be a library. I sat down at a long table that was accompanied by about a dozen miniature chairs and waited for instructions. A man was sitting at this table holding a stack of papers that he indicated I was to fill out. Although my hands were shaking, I reached for the papers and asked for a pen.
             When I finished filling out the forms and returned them to the man, four strange looking girls entered the library and stood there, staring at me with their friendly, yet critical eyes. I lowered my own eyes to the table in shame, feeling very out of place. A slight tremor ran through my body as though it wanted to run away whether or not my mind was conscious of this action. Shouted thoughts ran through my spinning head: "Where am I?" "What am I doing here?""Why aren't I home, surrounded by things familiar to me instead of in this strange, formidable place with these critical looking people?"
             It is now spring break of 1989; we are on the road somewhere between Detroit, Michigan and Enterprise, Alabama. I wish I could be like most kids, who were busy celebrating the week off by hanging out with friends and taking trips to the mall. Today is Friday; my mom and younger brother, and I are busy moving to what seems like the other side of the world. We are leaving behind everything we once knew because my parents got a divorce. I was now a statistic. I could now be added to the total of the estimated "1,075,000 children tha...