“You know Filipe Delgado used to date Marta, don’t you?”

“What?”

I slam-stopped in the middle of the road. Carlos no longer had a scowl on his face. He was, instead, watching me with a mild, almost bland, look on his face.

“Oh, yes. You didn’t know that? Marta used to be fun too, she used to help me with my homework. Even play soccer.”

I tried to picture the aloof Marta running around after her little brother with a soccer ball. But I couldn’t do it.

Carlos kicked a small stone with enough force to send it flying down the road until it disappeared in a hazy shimmer of heat and dust. His eyes narrowed. “But then she started seeing Filipe. And she changed. She had no more time. Except for him.”

He looked up at me then. Like he was waiting to see how I’d react to his quiet, matter-of-fact statement.

I cleared my throat. “So why’d they break up?” I tried to sound bored, indifferent as to whether Carlos answered me or not. Like I was just passing the time during a long, hot and dusty walk home. Teacher. Ha. I should be an actress.

Carlos picked up a gnarled stick and dragged it along the low stone wall that bordered the road. The ‘rat-a-tat-tat’ noise of the stick against stone was more annoying than silence but Carlos finally got around to answering my question, which saved me from having to kill him.