“Mateo,” Uncle Jorge says. “There’s no point obsessing about these things.”

I look down at my lap. Even though I can’t even see my own hands, I start to fidget with them.

“Mateo,” my uncle says again. “We can’t do this right now. What we need to do is focus on tomorrow. We need to make sure we’re at our best so we can help your dad.”

I almost argue. I want to tell him that I need something to hold on to—an explanation for why this happened to us. But then I look at the time on the microwave and realize it’s almost one in the morning.

“You’re right,” I say. “We should try to get some sleep.”

Even though we both go back to bed, I feel less tired than I did before. While I lie next to Sophie, desperately wanting to get some rest, I wonder if Uncle Jorge is still up as well. I wonder if he’s also tossing and turning, worrying about what’s going to happen when morning comes.

And then I start thinking about Pa. I wonder if somewhere inside that jail, he’s also lying awake, dreading the moment when he’ll be standing in front of the judge, and thinking about how our entire lives could change in a matter of hours.

15

I HAD IMAGINED THAT PA’S HEARING WOULD happen in a grand courtroom, with tall ceilings and large windows, but this place is nothing like that. It’s just a small room with wood paneling on the walls. There’s a large desk, behind which the judge is sitting, and there are two tables facing her. My dad and Mr. Wilkins sit at the table on the right, and the ICE lawyer, a short man with a thick mustache, sits at the one on the left. Uncle Jorge and I are on a bench right behind Pa and Mr. Wilkins. It’s lucky that the judge can’t get a good enough view of us, because both of our legs are shaking pretty badly.

While the judge puts on her glasses, Pa turns around to look at me. We only stare into each other’s eyes for a second before he turns back to face the front, but that second is enough to bring a sharp pain to my heart. All I want is to run to my dad and wrap my arms around him, but I force myself to remain still.

“Good morning to all,” the judge says. She clicks on a recording device that is in front of her, and then she starts reading off a piece of paper. “I am Judge Olivia Meyer, sitting in an immigration court in New York, New York. These are removal proceedings in the matter of Ernesto Armando Garcia. The respondent is present in court along with his legal counsel. Mr. Samuel Gordon is appearing on behalf of the government and…”