“Not literally. I mean that as a figure of speech. But, yes, that is what they did. They claimed to install hospitals and places where you could get an ID card. They claimed to have a police force and all these things that governments were supposed to have, and they claimed to represent the Igbo minority in the Muslim north. We should have welcomed them with open arms, right? They were here to rescue us from a government that cared not at all for my tribe. But when the Biafrans came, it was nothing but blood and thunder.” He turns to Ify. “You spent time with the Biafrans, yes?”

The only sound, other than Peter’s voice, had been the scraping of forks and knives and spoons against plates, but now even that stops. Ify doesn’t feel surprise. She doesn’t let herself feel surprise. All this time, this boy has been building toward something, and while Ify still doesn’t quite see the game he is playing, she can tell what type of person he is, and she is prepared for this. So, when her shoulders tense, it is not from being caught off guard. It is from what she wants Paige and Amy to see as her visceral, roiling anger. Just barely contained in the pulse of her jaw and the trembling of her utensils in her hands.

Amy puts her hand on Ify’s, and Ify knows she too is manipulating the woman—getting her to believe that Ify is in more distress than she really is—but if Amy were to ask, Ify would tell her that it’s for her own good. For a long time, Amy stares at Ify until Ify looks up and the two meet each other’s gaze. Amy gives her a soft, understanding smile, then turns to Peter. “We don’t really talk about Biafra or Nigeria with Ify here.”

“Oh,” Peter says, then leans back in his chair, his face blank.

“And your parents?” Ify asks. When she sees Peter thrown off balance, she knows she’s hit on something. “Did they die in the rebel attack?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Ify makes sure it sounds like an accusation when she says it.

Peter frowns. “I don’t know, because one day my cousin went missing, and when I went to look for him, I was captured. The Popular Front called me a spy, and they arrested me. Before I could look for my parents, I was thrown into prison.”