By the time I found the table, people were staring again. I didn’t mind speaking to people or being friendly, but some of the stares felt more than a bit hostile. That I didn’t like at all.
I sat down next to Cosette, who was already exchanging not-so-subtle smiles with a table of Cazadores across the room. At least someone was enjoying the attention. “Anyone else feeling like you’re living in a glass bowl?”
Teresa sat on my other side. She had four plates filled with food balanced on her tray with one giant glass of orange juice. “I’ve been stared at most of my life. Before, people didn’t like me or thought I was a weirdo. Now everyone’s more interested in a friendly way. Mostly.” She paused and looked around. “They’re curious. Just don’t let it get to you.” As she spoke
—still glancin
