This wasn’t what I was expecting foster care to be… after reluctantly wearing the clothes my new foster mother had given me, I timidly looked up into her eyes. I gulped as she unwound a lipstick and applied it to my lips.

“That’s much better,” she said. “Now… what shall we call you?”

“My name’s Peter.” I reminded her.

“It’s not very feminine though is it?”

I gulped and told her that I’m not a girl.

“You may not be a girl Peter, but you will be my foster daughter.” she retorted. She thought for a moment before saying “How about… Tracey?”

“Tracey!?” I gulped.

“Yes, Tracey. It’s not very pretty and a little bit plain. A bit like you really.”

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