Carolina asked him as they were leaving the Rec Center. Sheila moved and she adjusted her backpack to make the ferret more comfortable.“My legs hurt,” Arty said, walking stiff legged, “but I liked it. I especially liked the part where he was talking about me.”“You?” She had to adjust the backpack again, Sheila was restless.“He said only one of us in the room was going to be a black belt. That’s me.” He rubbed his thighs and laughed.“Oh, I don’t think so. I think he was talking about me.” She was laughing, too.“Then I guess he was wrong when he said only one, ’cuz it looks like we both are gonna get a black belt.”“No matter how hard it is,” she said.“No matter how long it takes,” he said.“Nothing will stop us.”“Nothing.”“Swear,” she said.“I swear,” he said.“That looks like a good spot.” Carolina pointed to a tall shade tree at the edge of the park. “We can study there, by the river.”With his father dead, Arty didn’t have to pretend about going to Spanish lessons, but he didn’t want to tell Carolina about what happened after he left her house.
