It is the goddess Kali," Mrs. Dixit explained brightly, shifting the dowel slightly in order to straighten the
image. Mrs. Dixit's hands were painted with henna, an intricate pattern of zigzags and stars. "Come please,
time for cake."
Miranda, then nine years old, had been too frightened to eat the cake. For months afterward she'd been
too frightened even to walk on the same side of the street as the Dixits' house, which she had to pass twice
daily, once to get to the bus stop, and once again to come home. For a while she even held her breath until
she reached the next lawn, just as she did when the school bus passed a cemetery