Goni is nine. She always runs faster than the boys. Always scores more goals. Until one day, they decide they’ve had enough. Goni’s brother finds her in the yard, rinsing blood from her knees. He carries her into the desert. There, he teaches Goni how to defend herself among red rocks and wide silence. Fifteen minutes of quiet rupture, about the cost of being who you are, when that’s exactly what no one wants to see.