Her teacher reached out, touched her hand. “I’m not going to get you into any kind of trouble,” Madame Grover said. “I just want to know if Amir and Laila are safe. I didn’t stop to ask them at the market because the conversation between you two seemed … private.”

Deepa tightened her grip on her satchel strap, tried to plot a safe arc for their conversation. “He’s working for a lawyer,” she finally said. “His parents need him to earn money so they can move to Lahore. They won’t be staying in Delhi much longer.”

In his last note, he wrote that they would be leaving at the end of the week. He would come by one more time, to give her one final note, containing the exact day of his departure and his new address in Pakistan.

Madam Grover’s eyes drifted to the wilting green plant on her desk. Beads of liquid hovered among the dark, thick flakes of soil. In a few days’ time, its leaves would turn brown and brittle. Madam Grover had overwatered it. Deepa knew this much.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” her teacher said. She folded her hands across the desk. “But of course, they must do whatever they need to stay safe. I’m just sorry they have to leave their home to do it. Deepa, do you … do you have a way of getting something to Laila and Amir? Would you be able to give them something from me?”

Madam Grover didn’t wait for Deepa’s reply. She opened her purse, counted out several notes, held them out to her.

Deepa hesitated. If she took the money, Madam Grover would know that she and Amir were in regular contact. She might tell Deepa’s parents. Not taking the money would make Amir and Laila’s journey to Pakistan that much more arduous.

She opened her palm. “Yes, I will get this to them,” she finally said. She stuffed the money in her bag, glanced at the clock. If she kept Bala and Anil waiting any longer, Bala might charge into the school looking for her and overhear their conversation.

“Thank you, Deepa. I appreciate it.” Madam Grover reached toward the plant, plucked off a brown leaf. It crinkled when she enclosed her fingers around it. “My cousin, her husband, and their sons are trying to get out of Karachi. I haven’t heard from them in almost two weeks.” She sighed. “I’d like to think someone over there is helping them too.”