“I’m sorry,” I say to her. “I’m so stupidly blanca.”
Yoli’s mouth twitches into a real smile. “I didn’t give you that nickname as reproach, you know. It’s affection.”
I nod, but I’m still miserable with the knowledge that she—whose heart is big enough to fit ghosts, vivos, old tricksters, and witches, and at least one monster—is the one I’ve failed.
She nudges me, then fits her hand to mine. I know she’s not trying to convince me of anything when our eyes meet, but I seem to be in thrall anyway.
Copyright © 2014 by Sabrina Vourvoulias
Art copyright © 2014 by Wesley Allsbrook