Crisanta, having calmed herself – perhaps a little too quickly, Kalina thought – retrieved her towel and went back to work. Kalina couldn’t see her face under the table, but she was sure that she was smiling as, over her head, their parents told Kalina how disappointed they were with her.
“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.”