My next foster home was nothing like Eula's. It was not a welcoming place, and I believe to this day that the family was in it only for the money, (not an uncommon situation in foster care). I had seven other foster siblings in this home, two of them were my foster parent’s actual children, and the distinction in treatment between us and them was as clear as glass. There were two sets of rules in that house: one for the foster children that were harsh and restrictive, and a benign tolerance for almost anything with the others. I often wondered if this was just the luck of the draw, or if my father had somehow personally picked the worst people he could find to place me with.
   There were many small things that all served as a reminder that we were not a family that it...

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