I have a thousand questions on my mind: When is he going back? Where is he going to stay? Is he still in detention, or have they already put him on a plane? I just don’t have the strength to ask them. Thinking I’ll get answers eventually, I go sit on the couch next to Sophie.

“I’ll go check on Ellie,” Amy says a second later, and after gently running a hand down Sophie’s back, she walks off into the bedroom.

“How are you doing?” I ask my sister softly. She turns toward me, staring at me with vacant eyes, but she doesn’t say anything. I put an arm around her shoulders. “We’re gonna be okay. I promise, Sophie, we’re gonna be okay.”

“It’s not over yet,” she reminds me. “Ma could still be allowed to stay.”

I nod, but even as I do, a tear comes rolling down my face. Ma’s situation is no different from Pa’s. If Judge Meyer decided Pa had no right to stay in the United States, why would another judge say anything different about Ma?

I don’t know what it is—if it’s the fact that we’re talking about her, or divine intervention, or just coincidence—but my phone rings in that moment. And when I look at the screen, I know right away that it’s my mom.

I answer on speakerphone, so Sophie can listen in. “Ma?”

“Mateo,” she replies.

“They’re sending Pa to Mexico, Ma. The judge—”

“I know, mijo,” she interrupts me. “Mr. Wilkins called to tell me before I went into my hearing.”

I swallow hard. “How did that go?” I’m hoping for a bit of good news. I know it’s the only thing that’s keeping my sister going at this point—the idea that our mom could still come back home. But Ma stays silent. She doesn’t say anything, but then I hear a muffled sob, and I know that she’s crying.

“Ma? What happened at your hearing?”

“I—I decided to ask for voluntary departure.”

It’s as if the walls of the apartment come crashing down on us. The floor beneath the couch seems to crumble, and I can feel myself falling, falling, falling.

“No, Mami!” Sophie screams beside me.

“It’s okay, mi princesa. I’ll be okay. I need to do this.”

“Why?” I try to ask, but the only thing that leaves my mouth is a weird sound. The knot in my throat is too big for me to speak.

“I was scared,” Ma says, her voice shaking. “I was scared that the same thing was going to happen to me—that I’d go through the entire process, only to have the judge send me back to Mexico in the end. The lawyer said that the sooner you ask for voluntary departure, the better, so I did it.”