“You should leave that behind,” I said to Nina, pointing to the blanket she was tying on to her backpack, already crammed full of clothes and laden with a rolled sleeping bag. “When it rains, it will be too heavy to carry.”

She had only a smattering of English, but she understood. She flexed an imaginary muscle on her scrawny eleven-year-old arm, smiled at me in the mirror over her bed, and bent to finish securing the blanket.

Want to read the rest?
Please login.
New to Narrative? sign up.
It's easy and free.