On her first day of first grade, Lira carried an old backpack sewn by her mother. Her uniform was faded and had patches on the knees, and her shoes were plastic, cracked from use.

As soon as she entered the classroom, murmurs and laughter began among some of her classmates:

“Isn’t that the garbage collector’s daughter?”

“It smells like a dump.”

At recess, while the others ate sandwiches and spaghetti, Lira sat quietly under the acacia tree, slowly eating a piece of bread without filling.

Once, a classmate pushed her and her bread fell to the ground.