Terrified and alone, Maddie wandered the streets until a childless couple found her and took her in. They renamed her “Lana,” hoping the name would bring them luck. Their prayers seemed to work—six months later, Maddie’s foster mother became pregnant.
One crisp autumn morning, her foster father packed a small bag of her belongings and brought her to a train station. They rode for an entire day until they reached New York. He left her in front of an old brick building.
“This will be your home now,” he said flatly, handing her the bag. Without waiting for her reply, he walked away, his steps hurried and final.
Maddie stood frozen, clutching her bag. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the looming building that would become the orphanage she called home. She was on the verge of crying herself to sleep on the cold steps when a boy’s cheerful voice startled her.
“Hey! What’s your name? Did your mom and dad not want you either?”
She looked up to see a boy with messy hair and an oversized shirt peeking through the iron fence.
“My name is…” Maddie hesitated. She didn’t like the name Lana. Somewhere deep in her heart, she remembered being called something else. “Maddie. My name is Maddie.”