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of Señora Esquivel. The strength of that grip forced the woman from Adriana’s throat. The strong hands then took the girl through the crowd out of the church. Still gagging and breathing heavily, her face puffy and smeared with tears, Adriana looked up to see Sister Geraldine.
    â€œWhy did you do such a thing, Adriana?”
    The nun muttered the question over and again, knowing that the girl would not respond. Nonetheless, she felt compelled to ask because she was baffled by what had happened. She had never before experienced such a tumult in church. Sister Geraldine stood staring down at Adriana; she, too, was breathing heavily.
    â€œI wanted to see if it would hurt the veil.”
    The nun began to say something that had nothing to do with what Adriana had said, but cut off her own words abruptly. She blinked in disbelief at what she had heard: not Adriana’s words but rather her voice. The girl had spoken, and she did so in clear, correct words. There was no slurring, no incoherent connections. It was a complete, understandable sentence.
    â€œAdriana! You
can
speak!”
    The nun, still shaken by the many unexpected happenings, took Adriana by the shoulders as she turned her face up to hers. She looked intently at her face and head.
    â€œLittle girl, you
can
speak!”
    Repeating her words, Sister Geraldine expressed her joy to Adriana, who in turn was convinced that the nun was the Virgin Mary. If not, then she certainly was an angel, the only one in her short life who had ever shown Adriana that she cared enough for her to protect her from pain.
    â€œShe said that I’m the daughter of a black devil!”
    â€œYes, she did say those words.”
    â€œIs that true, Sister?”
    â€œNo! No one is the daughter of the devil. But you have to understand that Señora Esquivel was very upset, and people say strange things when they’re frightened. God forbid it, but maybe Raquel will be scarred. You’ll have to apologize most sincerely to her and to God, and you must promise never, never to do such a thing again.”
    As it turned out, Raquel Esquivel was not severely hurt; she lost most of her hair but that grew back, and there were no scars left on her face. Apparently, the blaze everyone saw was that of the veil only. After counseling and advice from the parish nuns, the family tookAdriana back, but Ramona Esquivel tucked the incident in her heart, and never forgave her.
    Not long afterward, when she was nearly eight years old, Ramona told Adriana to heat water to wash the dinner dishes. Adriana did as she was told, even though she could barely reach; she had to prop a chair against the stove to put the pan on top. However, when the water boiled and was ready, she knew that she could not carry it over to the sink, so she called Señora Esquivel and asked her to do it for her. Adriana was standing by the sink when the woman, pot holders in hand, turned to her.
    â€œYou want the water,
m’ijita?
”
    â€œSí, señora.”
    â€œWhere do you want it,
mi chula?”
    Adriana turned to point her finger toward the kitchen sink when she felt the searing pain of boiling water crash against her left side. She felt heat invade her body, and it was so hot, so intense, that the light coming through the windows began to dim until she could barely see. The dimming soon became blackness, and then there was nothing.
    When Adriana regained consciousness, her eyes opened slowly to see a nurse looking down at her. The face was a blur at first, then it began to take shape, until finally it became clear. As the woman scrutinized her, Adriana heard voices somewhere next to her bed.
    â€œDoctor, I tell you this was an accident.”
    â€œExplain how such a thing could happen accidentally if the child was standing by the sink, and the water was boiling on the stove? Remember, I’ve gone to your place, I’ve seen the kitchen, and anyone can see that there is at least