Or he’d score, often while the team was short-handed, and she’d scream before she could stop herself. No matter what happened though, she wanted t... watch hockey. On nights when neither of her teams played, she’d just turn on whatever game was playing and listen with half an ear as she did school work or read a book. Other times, she’d watch whatever teams were playing and flip a coin to decide who to cheer for. Something about it was missing, though. She loved to watch the games and see the men. Hearing a small cry, I looked up. Ananya was crouched on the riverbank with her sister and mother, the curved line of her spine visible in her slim brown back as she bent forward in concentration, working on a puzzle of interconnected multicolored cubes. Hotene had fallen behind the day’s lesson in tensor mathematics and was pawing her face with her palms, the sign of an impending tantrum, as my sister stroked her head patiently and whispered in her ear. Carapaces painted in bright swirls of. More

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