Sophomore Faith Bellamy sits on the high, uncomfortable stool, working on the biology homework on her desk. She checks the time on her phone, then places it facedown on the table, revealing the sticker on the case. 

The sticker that shows a dog and cat hugging with a caption that reads “I love you!”

That sticker makes her think of the time when she looked out the window to see her mother’s car coming up the driveway, back from the foster home. 

She remembers her father running out to the car, opening the door and pulling out a tiny toddler. 

She remembers the silly ponytail on top of the child’s head that held his long, dark hair and how hard the whole family laughed when they saw the confused look on his face after her father put the baby on his back and started running around like a crazy person.

She remembers the constant crying of the next three days, and the feeling of pity, not annoyance, for the boy who she has watched grow up for the past six years.

Who is now a goofy, little brother that somehow manages to silence all of Faith’s fears and worries with his carefree, childish demeanor that she envied.

Who makes her laugh like no one else can. 

Even when she had to move from the familiarity of her home to a tiny, terrible town in Mississippi where she would spend the next two and a half years before returning to Texas. 

Even when she fell at the track meet and lost the race.

Even when the doctors found a small tumor in her mother’s lung. 

This little boy who she loves unconditionally and would do anything for. 

Faith stares at the sticker and smiles, thinking of the 7-year-old boy who is her best friend.