“You got your hair cut,” says Soly. She sits behind me in the small room. I nod. “You have some hair on your shoulders.”
“Better than balakubak” I say and she laughs. When she leans near me to talk, I can smell her skin, sweet like mangoes from far away.
Halfway through class she whispers “Look at his shirt” in a choking, almost-laughing voice.
“What?”
She leans closer. “Look at his shirt.”
The room is large and chalky and the light through the windows is fine, not like the sun outside. I look at Professor Escobar’s shirt. He is wearing a short-sleeve barong with the large, simple embroidery. Underneath he wears a kamiseta, only it’s not a kamiseta. I stare a moment and realize it’s a T-shirt with printing on the front. “Jollibee Yumburger” it says though I can’t read all of it. But I
