I bit my thumbnail as I read over the Facebook message I had just typed.

Hello. I know that this must sound completely crazy, but I think we're twins. We look exactly the same and have the same birthday. Please here me out. I'd really like to meet you. -Emma

I sighed. Who would ever believe something like that? I knew that if someone sent me that message I'd probably freak out.

I hesitantly pressed send.

A few minutes later, she messaged me back.

I think you could be right about us being twins. I was adopted, and I know that I've never taken a picture of myself like that so you can't be messing with me. Is there any way that you could come to Tucson? xoxo, Sutton

I typed back in a rush.

I have enough money saved that I could take a Greyhound bus to Tucson. I planned on leaving Vegas anyway. Where should we meet? -Emma

I anxiously waited for her reply. It only took about 2 minutes.

We can meet at one of my favorite stores. It's called Clique. It's not too hard to find and if you are lost just call my cell phone. The number is on my page. I can't wait to meet you! xoxo, Sutton

This had to be the best thing that ever happened to me. My long-lost twin sister wanted to meet me. I was no longer going to be the foster kid, I was going to be someone's family. The thought sent a serge of warmth through me. I was finally going to belong somewhere.

I messaged Sutton back quickly.

That sounds great! I'll see you there. I'll text you when I get to Tucson. -Emma

I got out of my seat and went into my shabby little room that my foster mother had stuck me in. It was a lot better than some of the other rooms I'd stayed in in the past. The walls were white and the floor was old stained carpeting. In a way, it made me feel at home. My room was never decorated when I was younger and still living with my mother.

I grabbed my small amount of clothes, and the tampax box with my money in it. I pulled the dresser drawer open and removed my journal, that contained everything from my personal thoughts and headlines to the lists I wrote, and I placed it in the bottom of my duffel bag. My money went in next and the clothes were put on the very top.

I wrote my foster mother a note saying that I was leaving and that I would be okay. I placed it on the kitchen table, then I gathered my things and was out the door.

This was the beginning of my new life.