"Yeah, but I don't like London much," he said quietly. He knew he should be happy really, that his uncle and aunt were taking care of him. He'd heard all kinds of terrible stories about other kids who got placed in foster families. His uncle and aunt were good to him, even if they didn't believe him. But he still hated living there, hated how people treated him at school and at the psychiatrist's office. Anywhere was better than London, in Peter's opinion, but he still wanted to know how it had happened. "How'd I get to Kansas? That's really far away."
Amy started looking at him strangely, and he froze. Had he said something wrong? Or had she recognized his name? Maybe now he was in trouble. "Yeah, that's my name," he said, eyeing her cautiously. "I'm ten. Why? How old are you?"