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Prologue

Damian

I was thirteen years old and begging on the street the first time I saw her

Anyone who knows me noould be shocked that I used to sit on the subway station steps with a frayed wicker basket balanced on h It was never by choice And as huers, day after day, I learned some valuable lessons about human nature

When a parent yanked their child to the other side of the steps so he or she didn’t touch et too close, that child learned in that instant to seeother They never get rid of the notion, either It’s instilled too young Then over time, I just became invisible to them A piece of scenery, instead of a scared kid whose father will hurt his h cash

In all those years I spent begging, there was one child, only one, as yanked in the opposite direction of me—and resisted

And she would beco

“He’s probably on drugs,” theto pull her out of the station, probably toward the park or a toy store A place regular children got to go “Arya, let’s go”

“No He’s hungry” Her big, chocolate brown eyes filled up with tears “We can’t just leave him here”

The man was exasperated “He’ll be fine He’s not our responsibility”

“But we have lots of food at hoive him some!”

“Arya,” the rated “Don’t make me carry you”

He was very lucky he didn’t try to do that

I would have murdered him

The ue on my behalf, she became mine

Arya, who couldn’t have been more than seven, crossed her ar red “I’”

“Oh, Jesus Not here” The olderto appear on his forehead “Please don’t throw a tantrum here”

“Give e in your pocket”

“No, Arya—”

“Give it to me!”