Lupe slides her glistening eyes up and down my body. Instinctively, I fold my arms across my chest. You never know when somebody, usually a guy, but sometimes a girl, is going to make a crack about your breasts. You have a beautiful body, Mom always says. Stop slumping. It’s easy enough for her to say. Her boobs are like tiny overturned teacups on her chest, delicate and refined.
