Philo took a moment to collect himself. He gave Mrs. Jofald credit. She was right. He never would have written all of this in a paper. 

“I’ve been in and out of different foster homes for as long as I can remember. I don’t know if Mr. Kelly will keep me up until graduation. Which sucks, because that’s all I need… Ugh. I just look at other kids, and they have it so easy. They’ve been in the same house with their parents all their lives. How is that fair? 

“My parents died when I was really little. I don’t remember anything about them. Nothing about who they were, what they looked like, nothing. Well, no, wait. I do know their names were Dan and Ava. I’ve tried searching online for something about them or any other Nockby, but there’s nothing! It’s like they barely even existed. I think about them every day. Who were they? Am I more like my dad? Or my mom? What did they do for a living? What did they do for fun? Is it my fault they died? And… and… I always wonder what my life would be like if they were still here. 

“I don’t know. I just… I feel like everyone around me has a head-start on life and that I’m miles behind. What if my parents were just like… awesome? And I missed out on getting to know them! I have the worst luck. If they never gave birth to me, maybe they’d be alive right now. Why did I live, and they had to die? I feel like it’s my fault. I do! I don’t think I’ll ever find out who I am because I don’t know my own history. I….” 

Philo sighed. That was going to have to be enough. He felt too worked up to keep rambling. Philo didn’t usually talk about his past because it made him yearn for the impossible. He pressed “upload” on the open tab and waited for it to finish. 

Philo felt miserable. Today had been too long. He closed the laptop, being meticulous enough to make it look like it had never been touched, and tiptoed back up to the boys’ room. 

Tomorrow was Saturday. He could avoid his thoughts by sleeping until noon and reading the rest of the day. He took off his clothes and relaxed into bed. Philo realized that most kids would already have exciting plans with friends or family after their school week was over. Philo wished he had loved ones, or literally anyone, to enjoy his weekends with. 

While breathing in the scent of his stained pillow, Philo gazed out his bedroom window at the moon. The starry sky made it seem like the glowing sphere was in good company; the moon and its friends looked picturesque and peaceful. However, Philo knew those stars were all light-years away, and the moon was as lonely and melancholy as he was.

Philo wondered that if the moon, up there in the night sky, could have its own thoughts, what would it think about? Would it understand that it has fascinated astronomers and artists for centuries? That so many couples have fallen in love while gazing up at it from down below? That every person on earth witnessed its evening beauty each night? Probably not, Philo concluded. He closed his eyes and let a tiny yawn escape his mouth. The moon would only know of its own isolation. Philo finally fell asleep, dreaming about the stars. 

The moon could never comprehend its own value.