Interlude. Minerva Contreras and Lucía Ordaz

Norma and Lucía visited Minerva, who already looked different. Minerva made an effort to smile upon seeing Lucía. It was clear she was expecting her mother, and her attitude suggested she wanted to see her despite everything that had happened.

Her skin looked better, with more color and healthier. Beside her sat a small table with dirty dishes; Lucía was grateful to see she was eating. Her mother had mentioned that Minerva might refuse to eat, but she had been wrong.

"I’ve been reading the book you gave me," Minerva remarked, smiling. "The one about those inspiring women."

"And what did you think?" Lucía asked curiously.

The book Minerva mentioned spoke of important women in history, including Marie Curie, Helen Keller, and Katherine Johnson. Norma, Lucía's mother gave to her daughter. As a mother Norma wanted for her daughter good examples not only women, but in general, persons that do something for humanity. She was I was pleased that it was working.

"Mom always told me that no one appreciates intelligence in women," Minerva whispered fearfully. She gripped and crumpled her clothes with her fists. "She told me my only value was my body and my beauty. That it was the only way I could be successful. Claudio said the same thing."

Norma had told her daughter to avoid the subject of Claudio and Javier, suspecting that much of what Minerva lived through was forced upon her. It had been Lucía's idea to give her that book so she could distract herself and relax.

Lucía also realized that she lived as the total opposite of Minerva. Her mother and father encouraged her to study, to go to university, and to use her intelligence to achieve what she desired. Thanks to her intervention, she had discovered she had the power to help. Her mother had praised her for it.

"But now I believe I can be whatever I want," Minerva concluded, smiling shyly. "I don't have to be what my mom wants anymore."

"The goddess Minerva represents intelligence and art," Lucía explained confidently; her love for mythology was evident. "Make your name mean something now that you've reclaimed it."

"I promise!" Minerva said, smiling. "I won't be the goddess of beauty anymore."

Minerva’s war was just beginning. Lucía knew she would have a great strategy to escape her situation and find success. The friends said goodbye and promised to stay in contact.

***

That Saturday afternoon fell quietly. A man managed to rent a small room near Technical Junior High School 23. He looked tired and annoyed, but he smirked as he peered out the window facing the street.

"It’s a pity they’re already on vacation," the man whispered to himself. "This makes things complicated for me. But tht supid of Sandra and useless Nina are predictable."

The next day, the man woke up to the bells of the nearest church. Stepping outside, he watched as people, dressed entirely in white, headed to mass. He smirked and laughed to himself, judging them.

Today they act so holy, the man thought. Tomorrow, who knows. He began walking in a specific direction, finding the place he was looking for easily. He arrived just in time to see three people leaving the house.

The two adults were also dressed almost entirely in white, while the twelve-year-old girl was just complaining that it was Sunday, about the vacations, and that she wasn't going to take communion. The woman who appeared to be the grandmother swatted her on the head.

"Silly girl!" she said, paying no attention to the man watching them indiscreetly. "This is important, and you know it."

The girl didn't complain about the hit or the insult, but she stopped grumbling. She looked fed up with the family trip to church.

The man looked at the house: old, dirty, and unpainted. The metal door displayed the house number and the street name. The grimy windows were still there, decorated by metal bars with bits of trash stuck between them and the glass.

"They’re still living in misery," the man said with a laugh. "But it doesn't matter. By the time April begins, that girl won't have to live in this pigsty anymore."

The nearest stand he found for breakfast served barbacoa. He ordered a broth and two tacos of stiff, almost flavorless, and very greasy meat. The tortillas were hard and felt like chips.

Candice watched. Candice meditated. The final test for Emily was drawing near. A shadow approached her. In the rearview mirror where she resided, only a shadow could be seen.

"You are halfway there, Candice," a masculine voice said. His deep voice made the car's small mirror tremble, but Candice remained serene. "This is your last chance. The girl is next."

"I know. But in her favor, she is very young. How did she could even know?" Candice asked. She didn't let her fear or nervousness show.

"This time I will give you one last chance, Candice Brown," the voice said. The mirror revealed a glimpse of a pair of black, worn-out shoes and dingy, torn, old pants. "Exert yourself, Candi, if you want your rest."

The silhouette vanished, and Candice saw the possible futures for Emily. In one, she went away with her father, separating herself from the negligence of her mother and grandmother. In the other, she stayed and continued her life, but with the pain of knowing that someone did care for her.

Care. That was the magic word. She observed the future with the father. It seemed like a peaceful future. Full of games, outings, and laughter. But there was something. Emily no longer wore that school uniform, and she didn't smile the way she used to.

"How horrible!" Candice thought as she continued watching the girl's future. Her room consisted of a mattress, a pair of sheets, and a lamp sitting on the floor. The windows had no curtains, and the neighbors could see her.

She remembered when she was a mortal. When her mother took her to her first ballet class when she could barely even walk. She remembered it clearly, despite the passing of a number of years she no longer dared to count.