“Is that you, Kalina?”
“Crisanta?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” Crisanta replied quietly, her voice sounding a little scratchy, almost like she’d been crying.
The “Are you okay?” never quite left Kalina’s mouth, paused by the memory of Crisanta’s actions that morning, and on Friday evening. Kalina hopped down from the toilet and pulled her skirt back up, starting towards the sink.
“Kalina, could you go get my purse?” Crisanta’s voice came from the stall.
“Huh?”
“Oh, never mind,” Crisanta sighed, her breath rattling ever so slightly. “Forget it.”
Kalina considered it. She was busy on her own, after all, checking out the back of her skirt in the mirror to make sure she hadn’t leaked yet, then tentatively pressing the skirt back against her sagging diaper and checking again. Satisfied, she went back to the fellowship hall, hoping the youth group hadn’t gone off into some new conversation in her absence.