“At least I don’t need my mommy to tell me when to go to the potty,” Crisanta shot back, well aware of the irony in her statement, and barely able to keep that from being obvious in her voice. Kalina stuck out her tongue, but they were both giggling.
“What’d you need your purse for, anyway?” Kalina asked.
“I didn’t,” Crisanta told her. “I just wanted you to get out of the bathroom so I could dry my skort. I don’t know why they don’t have a lock on the bathroom door.”
“They probably just hate you,” Kalina nodded sagely.
“Probably,” Crisanta agreed. Kalina scurried back over the the youth group’s table, while Crisanta went back to her family bashfully, full of apologies.