“This place isn’t much, but it’s yours for the next year,” Christopher Daye said, frowning as he handed over the keys to the small apartment.

Kenya Nomenyo rolled her eyes at his reluctance. It wasn’t like this was news to him. The man helped her get emancipated for peets sake.

“What’s your deal, Chris? You knew this was coming,” Kenya replied, pocketing the keys.

Chris wiped the sweat off his brow, frown still firmly in place.

“You might be fine with this but I don’t like it. 17 year old girls should be worrying about boys and what they’re going to wear to prom. Not living on their own in an apartment building that smells like cat urine and cigarettes,” Chris said, dramatically raising his hands.

Kenya agreed that the building smelled like cat pee but the small space was hers and that’s all that mattered.

“It’s not that bad. I’ll be fine. I wanted this, remember? And we both know why,” Kenya pointed out.

“Yeah, yeah. Doesn’t mean I agree with the state’s decision though. I was hoping you would change your mind but you only became more determined.”

Kenya sighed. Out of all the lawyers, judges, fosters parents and psychologist she had encountered over the past 7 years, Chris, her guardian ad litem, was the only one she liked or trusted. He was the only one she knew that gave a damn about her; everyone else had an agenda.

“Like I said, I will be fine. Besides, you’ll be checking on me as often as possible so you’ll know how I’m doing,” Kenya reasoned.

“I suppose you’re right. Alright, I’ve got to get going. I’m meeting the wife at the doctor’s office in a half hour. I’ll see you in two weeks. Take care of yourself Kenya. And be careful.”

“Thanks Chris. Tell Beth I said ‘hello’.”

Kenya watched him drive away. Her brave front disappeared as soon as he was out of sight. She would rather die than admit to him that she was scared out of her mind. Yes, she wanted to be on her own, wanted control of her life, her future. Being bounced around from foster home to foster home had taken its toll on her years ago. Her previous foster home had been filled with so much hatred and mistreatment; she was surprised her sanity was still intact.

The unknown terrified her but determination won out every time. She refused to be another statistic, another failure, another poverty case. She was going to work seven days a week, including overtime. Her GPA would remain at 4.6, anything less was unacceptable to her. She was going to take her SATs again and this time she would get a perfect score. Chris thought she was too hard on herself, but Kenya disagreed. She saw the future she wanted and she was going to do everything in her power to get there.

To everyone around her, Kenya loved school, loved to learn but she secretly hated high school. She hated the popular kids, especially cheerleaders and jocks. She hated the false sense of belonging that the teaching staff tries to force down everyone’s throats. High school was such a cliché. Almost everyone was in some sort of group and when someone, like herself, didn’t fit with the norm, they made their life a living hell. She remembered getting things thrown in her face in the hallways, people she didn’t know jumping her after school.

Kenya hoped Central High was different. It was one of the richest public schools in Miami, Florida and she hoped the students there minded their own business. As a newbie, she was obviously going to attract some attention but she hoped it lasted no more than a weak. If she was left alone, she could get through her senior year with no problems.

Glancing at her watch, Kenya walked back inside her apartment and got ready for work. She would forever love Chris for getting her the job. True, he didn’t know the grueling schedule she created for herself but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Walking back out into the hot, humid weather, Kenya started her two mile walk to work. Working at a warehouse packing toys wasn’t an ideal job but it paid ten dollars an hour and thirteen dollars for overtime. Fall was a busy season for the company and they had no problem giving her the unwanted hours. Majority of the money was going towards her college savings account. The rest would be spent on food, bills, and other basic necessities. The state provided her with clothing vouchers to JC Penny, which she thanked her few lucky stars for. At least she wouldn’t look like a hobo at school.

Walking through the doors of the place she would call home for the next year, Kenya was greeted by a buzz of activity and her ridiculously chipper coach, Heather Davis.

“Hi Kenya, great to see you again! Go ahead and scan your badge. Grab a water bottle and get started on the line. I’ve marked your spot,” Heather said with a big smile on her face.

Kenya nodded, not bothering to smile back. Despite how annoying her happy demeanor could be most of the time, Kenya envied her. She wished she could let go and laugh like that. She couldn’t even remember the last time she cracked a smile. Their circumstances were very different though. There wasn’t much to smile about when it seemed like the weight of the world was on your shoulders.

Kenya worked diligently for the next nine hours. She asked questions, listened to Heather when everyone else on her team zoned her out, and she followed all the instructions to the letter. She wanted to become the best at her job because the better you were, the faster you worked and the faster you worked, the more money you made.

After her shift ended, she hopped on the bus and headed home. The bus system was another thing she was going to be using a lot. Even though her apartment was only a couple miles away, walking alone after dark wasn’t a good idea.

After the short bus ride, Kenya let herself into her apartment and prepared for bed. She took a quick shower, ate an apple, set her alarm clock for six in the morning, and collapsed on her air bed, quickly falling asleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.