The weak light of dawn is just beginning to wash in through the single porthole in her private compartment. Dressed only in underpants and seated on the bottom bunk of the bed they spent the night on, Jomo stares up at her like he’s just watched her head explode. She’s just told him the Thing. He moves his lips, but she shushes him with a pointed finger, her eyes slit dangerously. “And if you ask me who the father is, Jomo, I swear I’ll strangle you and wear your teeth for a necklace.”
