I am twenty-four. Gabriel is twenty-six. We are students at the University of Queensland, St Lucia, old enough for rent and a visa and a Tuesday that already happened in a library before we sat down under the fluorescent lights of the lecture theatre. I sit in the second row because the back makes me feel like I am hiding, and hiding is worse. I could never hide how wet I was. That was the whole problem.

I am Camila. I came from Cali for this degree, and Brisbane is a different humidity, a campus of sandstone and jacarandas that drop purple on the paths until your shoes are stained. My skin is dark. I wear my hair in twists I put up for the heat. I am an international student among other international students,…