“The 6 train is late, again.”
I grip the straps of my worn book bag, my heart pounding as I stare at the clock. "God, please help me get there before 9 p.m.," I whisper under my breath.
I'm racing against time, trying to get back to the teen shelter before curfew. If I'm not there by 9, they can call CPS, and I could lose my daughter.
The shelter...
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