Even though Milo never really stood tall to begin with, now he seemed to shrink down even more, and he stopped looking at the prizes to instead look at his shoes. He reached up to hold onto the camera drummed on it with all of his fingers. He knew, of course he knew, but technically it was legal, but he wouldn't say so. And how was he supposed to ask? How could he go and address a full group and ask? They'd all look at him, and probably think he was some freak, and whisper about him, and they'd send him home. And they still might. They probably would. And it wouldn't matter, not really, he'd be moving again, and they wouldn't remember him or keep in touch anyway. But he was here now. And he had thought--
"I don't post them anywhere," he mumbled, not looking up, "they don't go online, and I don't show them to anyone. I just keep them in a shoebox. For when..."