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.
She passed her family’s table, saw her parents talking with an older couple, Camelia sitting happily beside them. Crisanta’s purse sat by an empty seat, quiet and lonely, yet calling out to Kalina in her sister’s voice, the way it sounded when she was trying to pretend she hadn’t been crying.
‘She deserves it,’ part of her mind told her, while another tried to convince her, ‘She can’t really -need- anything from it all that badly.’ ‘And if she does,’ the first part replied, ‘all the better.’