Turning around, I see her and Darryl pushing their way toward us. They both give Adam and me an up-and-down stare at the same time, and when they realize we’re holding hands, they throw me subtle smiles.

“You can thank us later for leaving you two alone,” Kimmie whispers into my ear, and all I can do is roll my eyes at her.

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur, with all the photos, and the speeches, and the fireworks still going off in my chest. But at some point, when Adam, Kimmie, Darryl, and I are in a corner of the stage eating cake, I remind myself of something—that feeling too much isn’t always bad, that I’m also capable of feeling too much of the good things. And right now, there is a glow inside me, and it’s shining brighter than the lights above the stage.

22

WHEN I WAKE UP ON THE MORNING after Adam’s debut, all I hear is silence. It buzzes in my ears, tingles on my skin, seeps into me through my breath.

I’m not talking about real silence. The apartment is usually pretty noisy in the mornings, with the sounds of the street outside the window and Amy and Jorge getting ready, and today is no different. This silence isn’t something I can hear as much as feel. For the first time in a really long while, I’m not flooded by a million thoughts the second I open my eyes. I’m not forced to relive nightmares involving my parents, and Sophie, and ICE agents walking into the bodega. I’m not immediately hit by the realization that our lives have become a mess.

I try to hold on to this peace for as long as possible. It’s surprisingly hard to do—it means I have to ignore Amy’s huffing and puffing and Jorge’s sweatiness. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on this morning, but I’m guessing they’re mad at each other. Even though they never argue in front of Sophie and me, it’s never hard to tell when they’ve been fighting, because this is all they seem to be able to do afterward—breathe loudly and sweat.