We didn’t have much time. His grandmother was coming to get him soon. We had a couple more algebra problems to review, a couple more equations to write.
Then she stuck her head in thru the door, flashing eyes, floating hair. She shouted over to him.
“He’s a good teacher, you know.”
And then they said some things that I didn’t quite catch — maybe something to do with my shirt.
“What?” I asked them.
“You got a backstory, Mr. Hasan!” he said.
“You’ve got years behind you!” she said.
…
Years behind me. They got that right.