Behind her back they will yell at me because of her pierced nose and the tattoo around her ankle, as if I were the one who came home wearing them. They’ll say . . . Tell me who you hang out with and I’ll tell you who you are. They will lament over what happens to girls when they go downtown with all those locas Americanizadas. They will hold on to Flaca even tighter, with more fear that she will fall from grace and get corrupted.
