. . . While Mik was in the bathroom Fatima studied a free Spanish paper. Articles were translated into English on the opposite page. Fatima taught herself the language as she hunted for news from the east. Word of Africa’s troubles had dropped from print for the most part, at least from the rag Fatima sold, but sometimes El Día covered world events. Not today. Mik came back. Fatima showed her how to make a dog out of a burger wrapper. This would be today’s lesson at the VA. YOU WILL LEAD THE CLASS? Fatima signed. NEXT TIME. “You have been saying ‘next time’ many times now. But no pressure.” “No, never.” Mik squinted. “That dude at the hospital, the head volunteer guy, he kind of creeps me out.” “Why?” “You don’t worry he’ll rat you out?” “Never. He is, how you say, off the hook cool.” “‘Off the hook,’ huh?” “I am becoming very down with it. Now you must punch my knuckles.” Mik bumped her. Two cops came in. One checked out Fatima’s headscarf.
