I waited, spying in the glass for the right moment. The blonde looked up, the stocky one had her back to the door. I moved quickly to catch her eye, and ducked out of the way. She came to the door and exited, making up some excuse to the stocky one.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“I want to sleep with the 11s.” I pleaded with my eyes. She stared at me for a long time. She sighed, “You look like my little brother. Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

So that was why she liked me. I scurried off. She went back inside to distract the stout one. The 11s were a year younger than I was. When I was 11 I had a mother and worried everyday about my father. We were glued to the news reports every night. He’d been shipped out one last time. My mother’s belly was only beginning to protrude, my new little sibling just a tadpole inside.

I wondered if the 11s room would be any better. It was down the hall from the 12s, and to get there, you crossed an open balcony overlooking the dining hall with its long tables.