Minni, Ammi has packed enough lunch for both of us. She made your favorite, jeera aloo. I read it a few times. Her mother remembered that I love jeera aloo and that Ma wasn’t there to pack me lunch, so she did. Naan Aunty brought me dinner. Faiza waited for me, and Shiva the guard let us in. Miss Shah didn’t question us for being late. At lunch I feel the caring in every bite. Shanti told me I wasn’t alone, and now I see what she meant. This growing-up thing is hard—and the carefree days of my childhood may never return. But I have so many people here to help. That night I write in my journal:
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