Cole, New Comer, 17, No relationship other than with basketball
Rolls up to the driveway of what appears to be the home of a politician. Hopes off board and checks the paper from tony, my social worker, who yet again didn't bother to drive me to my new home,
The address is right... I guess this is it... I think to my self. I walk up to the door wearing dirty greyish black jeans, sagging slightly, worn black vans a grey sweatshirt and a grey beanie
Only having a basketball, an old well used skateboard with a few store stickers on the bottom , and my backpack to my name I let out a long sigh and knock on the door that contains everything that makes me shrivel with unrest
Here we go again...