Erica
When I reached my first class, I was still lost and I didn't even write down the things the teacher explained. The girl, Riley with red hair, sitting beside me nudged me and slid her notebook to me. I gave her a grateful smile and she shrugged as she said, “You can keep it and give it back tomorrow.”
I took in her neat handwriting, the English words and sentences on one side and their translation in Italian on the other half of the page. She makes me miss my sister, with her red hair but hers weren’t natural. The first time we had met four days ago she had told me that she was here for a job and although she knew the language, her company had insisted that she take the classes.
I took the notebook from her and said, “But we don't have this class for the next two days.” There were
