Adopted by Dear Evan Hansen: Could we go on For Forever?

Step out of the Sun if You Keep Getting Burned

**Ryder's POV**

My parents died in a car crash when I was nine. I was in the car also, but the truck hit us head-on so my mom and dad got the worst of it. They ditched the real world and I was left with a broken leg, scars, and a fear of semi-trucks. The scars have faded over time, but the broken leg has morphed into a limp that I'll have for the rest of my life. Mom and Dad went into the ground and I went into the foster system.

I've never had a 'good' home, per see. They were all either okay or bad. The bad ones usually entailed neglect and abuse and the okay ones were unusually my foster family just leaving me alone and letting me mind my own business. I'm lucky, though. I've known kids who've almost died from treatment in their homes. I never stay too long in one place, do to the crash still haunting me. I was young enough that my memory is somewhat fuzzy but I remember some things, such as the smells of oil and gas and the headlights of the truck burning my eyes and the way the traffic lights continued to change - green, yellow, red, repeat - like nothing was wrong. 

The foster family I ran away from was nothing special - mother, father, daughter, son. They're just in it for the extra cash and don't care about me. I'm given food and a bed but they don't care what happens to me the rest of the time. 

When I was transferred there, I knew something was up with them so I started sneaking my belongings out of the house little by little and stashing them in my locker at school. On one particularly chilly day in early November, my foster father never showed up to pick me up from the after school program they were making me take and I ended up walking. I'd just rounded the corner when I saw the police cars in front of the house. My foster brother and sister were both against a car with police officers patting them down as my foster father was lead to a car and my foster mother watched from the door. There was no way I was getting wrapped up in that mess, so I did the first thing I could think of - I ran. Running always has cleared my head, I don't know why. It's always been an escape and a way to calm myself down. I didn't know where I was going, I just had to keep moving. One wrong move could be dangerous. Here's the thing - my foster family lived in south-western Lenox Hill and I - somehow - managed to get from there to the Theatre District and Times Square without changing my pace, my backpack still bouncing up and down on my shoulders.

I'm not a huge acting person. Stage tech is more my forte, but I do know a lot. Throughout my five years in foster care, an old phone and a simple pair of knock-off black earbuds that one of my only good families bought me was my salvation. I had one downloaded app: YouTube. Broadway songs and cast interviews and Broadway.com vlogs were what got me through some of the hardest times in my life. I listen to anything and everything I can: Phantom of the Opera, Rent, Avenue Q, Lion King, Waitress, Wicked, School of Rock, In the Heights, Newsies, High Society, Ms. Saigon, Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, and many, many others.

I stood in the middle of Times Square, looking up at the flashing lights and large bulletin boards. I had an old watch that I'd stolen from a foster home and it read 9:14, meaning that every Broadway night show would be ending soon. I quickly connected to some random person's WiFi hotspot - Jamie's WiFi - and found the location of the Music Box Theatre on W 45th. I ran there and found myself staring up at the Dear Evan Hansen marquee. I disconnected from 'Jamie's WiFi' and sat down outside the theatre and waited for the show to end.

After what felt like a lifetime later, my wish was granted and the house doors opened. A thousand or more people came out all dressed in dresses and slacks and button-downs with the occasional tie or blazer popping up here and there. I got myself a good spot in the stage door crowd: three from the front so that I wasn't right up against the barricade, but close enough to see.

The first person out was Mike Faist. He was even more handsome in real life. Honestly, those camerapersons from the videos on YouTube do not do him justice. Mike Faist was followed closely by Laura Dreyfuss, Michael Park, Jennifer Laura Thompson, and Rachel Bay Jones. Within the hour, my first - and probably last - stage door experience was over and I realized that I was alone. There was no way I was going back to my foster home since, you know, I ran.

Instead, I found a nice alleyway that was slightly covered by the eves of two buildings' roofs and used my backpack as a pillow. It wasn't very comfortable since two one-point-five binders, two books, a pencil case, and an Intro to Chemistry, Grade 8 textbook can only be so comfortable, but it was better than nothing. Sleeping on the ground wasn't exactly ideal nor appealing, but I'd slept in worse conditions and running 2.1 miles non-stop with an obnoxiously heavy backpack definitely wore me out.

Eventually, I found myself falling asleep in an alley beside the Music Box Theatre. If only I'd known how that decision was going to change my life.