I am thirteen, and I’m doing the same thing I do every day after school: hitting a tennis ball against the door of the garage over and over and over.

When I see them on display at the farmer’s market, I can’t help but think about how many hands have touched them

My teeth have been a source of concern for as long as I can remember. When my permanent teeth were first growing in, my adoptive mother would peer at them, frowning. A variety of toothpastes were purchased in an attempt to whiten them. My biological mother had evidently taken some kind of medication when she was pregnant and now my teeth bore the tell-tale stains.