Margen
Seven twenty. Rocío, school-bus monitor, counts heads again and writes: twenty-eight.
To Amir, the new one, she shows where the backpack goes. To Lucía, who cries, she gives the front row and tells her today it's grandma's song.
The grandmother doesn't exist: the two of them made her up, in October.
Enrique, the driver, starts the engine and asks which way. Rocío answers without turning: "Past the market; I promised Lucía crates of mangoes."