Prologue
Alecia Riese scribbled down the answers to problem seventeen on her algebra
sheet, processing the information in her head. The precocious fourteen-year old
had advanced to eleventh grade French already; the only thing holding her back from
skipping another grade (she had jumped a grade when she was twelve) was her
math. Stupid math. As she tossed the finished worksheet aside, she reached for
another one. English. Language arts. Whatever you want to call it. Her eyes
skimmed the words. She frowned. Why were teachers so snoopy? Essays on your
past¡KNo. She'd talk to Kestrel. She sighed. Kestrel would probably just tell her it
was no big deal. Yeah right. With a disgruntled shift, she started to write.
I was born in Japan in 1987. I lived a happy life until my birth mother and
father died when I was eight, leaving me at the city orphanage in Kyoto. There, I
was cared for until I turned eleven, when Kestrel Riese, United States
Ambassador, adopted me when she was there on a trip. Since then, Kestrel and I
have been very happy.
Alecia stopped. She couldn't-wouldn't-write anymore. The long, dark lonely
nights in the orphanage, being only accompanied by a tattered book of fairytales,
trying hard never to cry-she would never it put down in public. Never.
Alecia Riese scribbled down the answers to problem seventeen on her algebra
sheet, processing the information in her head. The precocious fourteen-year old
had advanced to eleventh grade French already; the only thing holding her back from
skipping another grade (she had jumped a grade when she was twelve) was her
math. Stupid math. As she tossed the finished worksheet aside, she reached for
another one. English. Language arts. Whatever you want to call it. Her eyes
skimmed the words. She frowned. Why were teachers so snoopy? Essays on your
past¡KNo. She'd talk to Kestrel. She sighed. Kestrel would probably just tell her it
was no big deal. Yeah right. With a disgruntled shift, she started to write.
I was born in Japan in 1987. I lived a happy life until my birth mother and
father died when I was eight, leaving me at the city orphanage in Kyoto. There, I
was cared for until I turned eleven, when Kestrel Riese, United States
Ambassador, adopted me when she was there on a trip. Since then, Kestrel and I
have been very happy.
Alecia stopped. She couldn't-wouldn't-write anymore. The long, dark lonely
nights in the orphanage, being only accompanied by a tattered book of fairytales,
trying hard never to cry-she would never it put down in public. Never.