her eyes and the streetlights’ sheen caught the hazel of her irises. “Yeah. I know I’ll be doing good stuff, though, so that helps.” I couldn’t believe I’d just described the honorable JFK-founded institution known as the Peace Corps with the words “doing good stuff.” “Roberto!” Pricilla said. “I want you to know that you’re my favorite person in the world,” I said. Pricilla stared at the ground and dug one of her shoes into the asphalt like she was putting out a cigarette. “I’m going to miss you, too,” she said. Then she broke the quiet with another “Roberto!” “Do you remember that night? The night when we drove around town in my dad’s LeBaron? Do you?” I said. “With no place to go,” she said. “Yeah.” I noticed the glimmer of her single earring and nearly laughed.
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