“Her eyes are bloodshot and her hair is starting to slip out of its ponytail. I notice she changed back into her cut-off jeans shorts and tank shirt. Linda is lying on Marita’s bed, asleep in her now crumpled beige uniform. When I enter her room after knocking, Marita touches a finger to her lips and tilts her head toward Linda. “You are sunburned,” Marita whispers. I bring my warm fingers to my warm face and nod. Even at night, the sun figures out a way to sneak into my skin. “Hey,” I say. “You... should just do those clothes tomorrow. You look pretty tired.” Marita massages the corner of her eye. “Tal vez,” she says. “I am waiting for your brother to come home.” “How did you know he was gone?” I demand. “Did you see him leave?” “Sshh,” Marita hisses. “I see him just before and he says he forgot his shoes by the bohío you all are building.” “The war fort. He didn’t go there, though. He went to Ninth Street to go fight some kid, like he said at dinner.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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