I named the main character in my first novel after my foster brother. I wanted him to know he was never temporary.

The author named the main character in her first novel after her foster brother, Nathaniel.

Courtesy of Kris Ann Valdez

I was 10 years old when my parents decided to become foster parents. I was 28, married, and with a child of my own when they took their last placement.Throughout those years, my parents adopted five of our foster siblings through the foster-to-adopt program.But not every foster sibling stayed.As a family, we mourned every placement's end, whether a child was placed with a different foster family or with biological relatives. Saying goodbye was one thing. Not knowing whether their next home would be safe and loving made it much harder, especially since we had no control over the court's decision.Nathaniel was part of our first foster placementOne of my foster brothers, Nathaniel, lived with my family for only two years, from ages 7 to 9, or from second grade to fourth grade. He and his two sisters were our first placement, bumping us from a family of five to eight.My parents bought an old blue minivan that was always breaking down. From the backseat, my brothers Mike and Nathaniel would belt out songs from the Backstreet Boys' cassette that played on repeat, earning them the title "The Backseat Boys."I remember squatting on the floor in their room, trading baseball cards, and going to their soccer games. Nathaniel was one of those bright kids who somehow managed to get good grades and make friends right away in school, despite everything he'd been dealt in life.I'll never forget how he and his best friend rounded up all the American flags from the neighbors' yards on one side of the street after 9/11 and went door-to-door on the opposite side, reselling them. The neighbors didn't even realize they were buying their own neighbors' flags. The boys each took home about $72, which my parents promptly made Nathaniel give to charity since it was exactly an honest business venture. Still, you had to hand it to him. It was pretty ingenious — and gutsy — for an 8-year-old.That was Nathaniel. He wasn't dishonest, just a smart, scrappy kid who knew how to survive.