“Uncle Nick had kicked us out, we couldn’t find anyone else who’d take us in. Lip and Ian and me were sleeping in the backseat when Frank pulled over. Middle of the night, think it was Hal-stead. Told me to take the boys and sit on a curb and he’d be right back. I was six. Few hours later, we’re still sitting on the sidewalk, and Ian’s head is burning up. He’s hysterical. I don’t know what to do. So I ran down the street, Lip under one arm, Ian under the other, trying to flag down help. It would’ve been easier scoring crack than a ride to the clinic. I finally made it on foot. They said Ian had a fever of 104. Another couple of hours.. who knows? I didn’t find Frank until a couple of days later. First thing he asked me? Was how much money I had on me. I wish I could say that the only time but it was just the first. My mother’s bipolar, and my father’s an alcoholic and an addict. He takes what he pleases and he offers nothing. No money, no support. I’ve done what I could to help my siblings. I wish I could of done more.”