The sight of Ms. Solinsky, with her long unsmiling face and her hair yanked back in a tight little, mean little bun, was not the kind to gladden a young girl’s heart. She was dressed in some sort of uniform that a General of All Generals might wear, with binoculars and a metal canteen hanging down from the belt that held up her pants, and a jacket bedecked with several silver medals, along with rows of badges and ribbons and stars. On her feet were heavy, thick-soled, high-top, lace-up combat boots, the kind that could stomp almost anything into dust. And over her shoulder she hauled a bulging duffel bag, stuffed from bottom to top with who knows what. Anyone else, after taking one look at Sonia Sofia Solinsky, would have shivered and shuddered and instantly said, “I surrender.”