Erika nods, but none of this makes sense. I don’t understand how this could’ve happened. Only last night, we were starting to think we might be able to survive this.

“How?” I ask. “How did…”

Erika swallows hard and then starts speaking, not looking directly at me. “Your dad came back to the bodega this afternoon. He said he thought I might need a hand without you here. Everything was normal, until—until the agents came in and asked for him. I wanted to protect him, to tell them that he wasn’t here, but they said they had a warrant. And then they saw him and asked to see his ID.”

Tears start welling up in my eyes. I picture my dad standing exactly where I am, looking into the eyes of the agents. I feel the helplessness he must’ve felt, the numbness that must’ve come to his legs. “And then what happened?”

“They… they put him in handcuffs.”

“And my mom? Have you heard from her? Has she—”

“They already had her,” Erika says, her voice breaking. “There were other agents outside the store—three or four of them. They must’ve found her at your apartment.”

I feel weak. All I want to do is stop fighting—I want to stop carrying the weight of my body and just crumple to the ground. I wish I could pass out right here and never wake up, but then a word leaves my lips, no louder than a whisper. “Sophie.”

“What?”

“My sister,” I say, taking a step closer to Erika. “What happened to her?”

“I—I don’t know.”

Panic comes flooding my chest. They couldn’t have taken her, could they? An image flashes before my eyes—Sophie in tears, yelling at the ICE agents as they took our mother away. Was she at the apartment when they came for Ma? Is she safe?

“I have to go,” I whisper to Erika. She says something else, but I don’t hear what it is. Maybe she’s asking what to do. Maybe she’s wondering whether she should just lock the store and go home, or if she should even bother coming back to work tomorrow. Whatever Erika is wondering isn’t important right now. I don’t care about anything but my sister.

I run out of the bodega. The bell rings loudly as the door bounces back into place, but I don’t turn around.

Our apartment is only a couple of blocks away, but tonight, the street seems to stretch on for miles. When I finally reach our building, I storm inside and sprint up three flights of stairs. I put the key in the lock with a shaking hand, praying that my sister will be home, but when I push the door open and step inside the apartment, the air feels cold and still.