"We have room for the new kids?"

"Barely."

Marisa set her breakfast on the table in the corner of the small room, a good spot to feel the morning breeze, which fluttered the gauzy curtains and carried the scents of dust and the manure piles the mules deposited daily. Marisa gazed at the picture on the wall across from her. The village at sunset, children playing in the foreground, the mission a silhouette behind. Marisa had painted that one and all the pictures that hung in the orphanage and in her small house. And a few at the coffee shop. There were pictures she'd painted or sketched all over town, gifts Marisa had given the people who'd taken her in, made her feel at home.

Marisa prepared her lessons for the day while she ate. She'd been teaching English at the school attached to the orphanage for years, so preparation didn't take that long. Thirty minutes later, she made her way to the first classroom.

The children greeted her with smiles and waves when she walked in. The small room had one window and four rectangular tables long enough to comfortably fit two students each. Four sat at each today, kindergartners through second grade—and little Ana, whom Marisa had insisted be included with the kindergarten class. Theirs was the only school in town, so the kids came from all over the village. Most were barely subsisting with their meager income, but a few came from families whose fathers were involved in the drug trade. They were the only ones with money to spare.

Marisa moved on to teach the next grades up when the youngest class filed out. Carlita was determined that no matter what, no student would leave the orphanage without speaking and writing English well. That alone would set them apart from kids in nearby schools, where the teachers rarely knew much more than the kids and the curriculum was often not just outdated, but sometimes, outright wrong.

Marisa returned to the office after her last class of the morning and looked longingly at Carlita's computer. She'd hoped to order painting supplies, the only luxury she allowed herself. Carlita looked up from her paperwork and lifted her eyebrows.

"Would you mind if I—?"

"I'll grab some lunch. And maybe a nap." The older woman stretched and stood.