The bedroom overlooked an air shaft, and lights from neighboring apartments came in through the thin curtain. When I ducked under the clothes hanging from the rope, I could see Julia’s face, with her long lashes fluttering against her cheeks. I could tell from her squinched eyelids that, like her little brothers, she was only pretending to sleep. I sat on the edge of the bed—the tiny room didn’t have space for a chair.

Julia’s breath came out in quick shallow gusts, but she lay perfectly still, willing me to believe she was asleep.

“You’ve been angry with Josie ever since María Inés was born,” I said, matter-of-factly. “She’s going to school, she’s playing basketball, she’s doing all the things you used to do, before you had María Inés. It doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

She lay rigid, in angry silence, but after several minutes, when I didn’t say anything else, she suddenly burst out, “I only did it once, once when Ma was at work, and Josie and the boys were in school. He said a virgin can’t get pregnant, I didn’t even know until—I thought I was dying, I thought I had cancer inside me. I didn’t want a baby, I wanted to get rid of it, only the pastor, he and Ma said that’s a sin, you go to hell.

“And then, the day he did it to me, Josie came in, she came home early from school, she saw me, and she was, like, how could you?, you’re a whore. We used to be best friends, even when Sancia and me was friends, and now, whenever I complain about María Inés, she’s, like, you didn’t have to be a whore. Her and April, they say they’re going to college, they say their basketball take them to college. Well, Coach McFarlane, that’s what she used to say to me. So when Billy came over on Thursday and begged for a place to sleep, I invited him in, I thought, you do it to her, to Josie, make her get a baby, see what she says then!”

She was panting, as if waiting for me to criticize her, but the whole story was so sad I only wanted to cry. I reached under the coverlet for one of her clenched hands and squeezed it gently.

“Julia, I would love to watch you play basketball. Whatever your sister says, or your mother, or even your pastor, there’s no shame in what you did—in having sex, in getting pregnant. The shame is the boy who did it lying to you and you not knowing any better. And it would be another shame if you let your baby stop you from getting an education. If you keep lying around the house, feeling angry, you’ll ruin your life.”