The cameras felt like extra eyes following him everywhere.
Kova understood why they were there—Mama and Papa had explained about showing the world what their family was really like. But having strangers with big black boxes watching him brush his teeth and eat his cereal made his tummy feel twisty in ways that had nothing to do with being hungry.
The camera lady, who smelled like coffee and nervous energy, tried to stay quiet while he got dressed. But her breathing sounded too loud in his room, and when she moved, her equipment made soft clicking noises that reminded him of insects in the walls of the bad place where he'd been born.
"Is okay, little one," Mama said from the doorway, her voice carrying the particular gentleness she used when his memories got too heavy. "Camera people are
