Counterfeit

by Kirstin Chen

It means your credit card no longer works.

You’re absolutely right for this. You have an honest face, and you’re Asian American. No one would ever suspect a thing.

Florence is a friend. We taught together in Culver City. She’ll accept Henri with my recommendation.

That’s how she got her green card, Carla practically yelled, drawing looks from neighboring tables. By marrying her uncle.

Her expression hardened. Well, if you can’t talk to him, I can. In fact, I can tell him everything. Is that what you want?

In that moment I saw Winnie for who she truly was: not an awkward bookworm, nor a brilliant iconoclast, but a common thug.

slashed by the knowledge that I was, irrevocably, one of them now.

Her heart seizes. She looks at Maria with pride. Every day Henri comes up with new words, she has no idea how. After a year and a half of weekly appointments, his speech therapist has suggested they drop down to monthly, just to check in.

And then—she’s not sure which of them initiates it—their arms wrap around each other,