13THE BONFIRE HAD died down and the children, including Phirun, were asleep on the grass. It was almost dawn; Katherine was also lying on her side, but was still awake, crying like a child—uncontrollably, helplessly and asking for help from no one in particular. Beside her was Phirun; she was cuddling the boy’s head inside the curve of her right arm. Phirun’s body was towards her, his face close to her chest. She was unmindful of her sobbing that could wake him up. Why had she been crying when she had been successful in making them reveal their pasts? She had never expected to hear cruelty. Her story, the pain that accompanied it, was nothing compared to what the children had revealed. Still Katherine felt like she was thirteen years old all over again. The children had all been brave—brav
