There was no drama in her tone, no victimhood, just facts.
"But the Greers," she continued, glancing toward her foster parents, "they're different. They didn't ask me what happened to me; they asked what I like to eat, what books I liked. They didn't treat me like a case file."
Deborah Greer wiped her eyes quietly. Stan held her hand under the table, trying to keep himself composed.
"Mrs. Boon." Ammani turned toward her aunt. "You told my caseworker that you should have custody because you're blood, but you didn't come visit me until the court got involved."
Celeste shifted, clearly uncomfortable.
"I'm not mad about that," Ammani said quickly. "I'm just saying I've had to take care of myself for a long time. So, I notice when people show up because they have to, versus when they actually want to."
Judge Norwood tapped his pen against his desk, but didn't interrupt.
Ammani leaned forward slightly in her chair. "Do you want to know why I started reading about family law?"
He gave a small nod.
"Because people kept making choices for me, without me. Grown-ups sitting in rooms just like this one, saying things like, 'She's too young to understand,' or 'She'll adapt.' But I understand more than you think. I know what stability looks like. I know what being scared feels like. I know when someone is lying, especially when they're smiling while doing it."
No one said a word.
She continued, more softly now: "I know this isn't just about who wants me. It's about who knows me, who sees me. The Greers know I hum when I read. They know I eat my pizza backwards. They know I collect used bus passes and keep them in a shoebox because... I don't know, it makes me feel like the places I've been actually mattered."
That last part hung in the air longer than anything else. Ror leaned into Celeste and whispered something, but she didn't respond.
Then, unexpectedly, the judge leaned in and asked, "How old were you when you learned how to read legal documents?"
Ammani looked at him without flinching. "Nine. With eviction notices."