The first time it really hit her, Rosa was in her teens. 
The children were spending their summer vacation at the sprawling García ranch at the foot of the sierras, and on a particularly hot afternoon, she had gone bareback riding with Soledad, while the rest of the kids stayed behind playing children’s games. Daring each other, they ran the horses hard and far from the house. . .

Noah reads the headline from today’s Baltimore Sun: “Get Ready For Brood X: The Once-Every-17-Year Cicada Swarm Is Coming.” The last time Noah heard the chirping of Brood X, a petite girl in a blue nightie slowly opened the door, from inside her hotel room. She had small hips and a baby’s face, looking nowhere near the twenty-one years old her ad claimed her to be . . .