I try not to think about Pa’s or Ma’s hearings, and it’s surprisingly easy. It’s as if I gained a new clarity in my sleep. In fact, I feel nothing. I’m able to focus on studying and nothing else.

Even when Jorge, Amy, and Sophie wake up, the air in the apartment remains calm. Maybe we’re all just tired of stressing. For the first time, it’s as if we’re all willing to be patient. We’re willing to wait until we find out what happens at my parents’ hearings before we allow ourselves to be stressed again.

A part of me wishes I could hold on to that state of mind for the entire day, but sooner rather than later, I have to admit to myself that it was only temporary.

After I walk out of my test, I start to feel anxiety deep inside my chest, and it continues to grow until I’m a nervous mess. I check my phone every few minutes, hoping to get news from either of my parents, even though I know it’s pointless. Pa’s hearing will probably go on for at least another couple of hours, and Ma’s won’t even start until later this afternoon.

By the time the last bell rings, announcing not just the end of the day but the start of the long weekend, I know I should feel relieved, but I don’t. The anxiety just keeps growing and growing.

I walk out of school expecting to find Kimmie standing on the front steps. Instead, I find Adam. I’m not sure why it is, but he looks different to me. He’s not flashing his perfect white teeth the way he usually does. There’s only a small smile on his face, and when he looks right at me, the spark I’m used to seeing in his eyes isn’t there.

“Hey,” I say to him.

“Hey,” he says back.

We stand awkwardly in front of each other while people continue to burst out of school through the doors behind us. Even though I’m pretty sure only a few seconds have passed, this moment seems to stretch on forever, as all the things we’re not saying linger in the air around us.

“I’m sorry, Adam,” I say finally. “I’m sorry I said what I said when you told us you’d gotten the role. That was so shitty of me, and I—”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. We should’ve celebrated and—”

“I’m sorry, too,” he says, and I choke on my own words. “I shouldn’t have talked so much about the callback and all that. I didn’t mean to rub it in. I was just—”

“You were happy,” I say. “And nervous, and excited, and you had a right to be.”