THE sun was high and warm the next afternoon when Dimitra’s shrill voice echoed through the house.

"Xaniyah! Come here with a pen and paper!"

Xaniyah rolled her eyes from the hard wooden stool where she sat, staring at the empty wall ahead of her. She had hoped, wished, even prayed today would be uneventful, but alias, that was wishful thinking. She reached for her backpack, retrieved a pen and paper, and headed for the cramped kitchen where her aunt stood beside the stone counter, ...