By the time Sarina had finished the letter, we were both crying. Sarina got up and gave me a long hug. “We must do something fast,” she said, wiping her eyes and folding the letter.

“Yes, we must,” I said in a daze. “This can’t be happening to Mohini. Only a few months ago she was with us, and now she’s with this monster. . . . Why didn’t Mohini tell me that Anoop hit her? I remember her looking lost and sad, but I thought it was because she was unhappy about leaving us. Why didn’t I ask her? Why didn’t I talk to Pappa about it? Then maybe I could’ve stopped her from going to America. I guess I was too busy with my own life. It’s my fault, and now she’s in danger and so far away! I don’t know what I can do from here.”

“Show the letter to your mummy.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s exactly what Mohini doesn’t want me to do. Otherwise she’d have written her a letter.”

“When is your pappa coming back?”

“In a week.”

“That’s a long time. Do you want to talk to my parents?”

“No, Sarina. If I did that, Mummy and Pappa would never forgive me.”

“You can’t wait for a week.”

“I know,” I said, biting my lower lip. “I must help Mohini myself.”

“How?”

“Can you come back around seven tonight and give me a ride?”

“What? Why?” Sarina said, lifting her eyebrows. “Your mummy wouldn’t let you go out at night.”

“Leave that up to me. I’ll plead and beg until she lets me.”

That evening, before Sarina came, I complained about getting bored and being cooped up in our apartment. Mummy was happy to see me go for a ride. “Keep the windows rolled up,” she said, tying a silk scarf around my throat.

“Take us a few blocks from here,” I said to the driver, “and stop at the long-distance telephone stand.” Whenever I saw those stands at every corner, I wondered who used them. Most people I knew had a telephone at home, or used their neighbor’s, but today I was happy that public phones were available. I’d brought two hundred rupees in my pocket, my savings from my allowance.

My hands trembled as I dialed Mohini’s telephone number. “Please, please let Mohini be alone,” I mumbled.

“Hello,” she answered.

“Mohini? It’s me, Jeeta. Are you alone?”

“Yes, it is after eight o’clock in the morning here. He’s gone to work.”

“Listen, you must get out of that house, today.”

“But . . . I . . .”

“You can’t wait. Not for a second.”

“Have you talked to anyone?”