I stop at a red light and pull out my phone. With shaking fingers, I scroll through my contacts until I find Maria’s name. Ma insisted that I save her number on my phone in case of an emergency, but I never thought I’d have a reason to need it.

A woman’s voice answers after the first ring. “Hello?”

“Maria?”

“Mateo? Is that you?”

My voice cracks as I try to answer. “Y-yes. It’s me.”

Maria sighs into the phone. “We’ve been trying to reach you, but Sophie couldn’t remember your phone number. And neither of your parents are picking up.”

“So—so she’s there?” I ask. The pedestrian light turns white, but I remain frozen on the spot, clutching my shirt. “Sophie’s with you?”

“Yes, she is. Mateo, what’s going on? Your mom didn’t show up at school, so I brought Sophie home with me.”

I bend over, sighing in relief. “I’ll explain later,” I say. “What’s your address?”

When she tells me, I turn left. She lives east of where I am right now, so I run down Third Street toward Avenue D and don’t slow down until I’ve reached the right building.

Even though Maria is Sophie’s best friend’s mom, I’ve only met her a couple of times. When she opens the door of her apartment, though, that doesn’t matter. I don’t care that she barely knows me, or that she has no clue what’s happening. I fall into her arms and give her a hug. For a second, she remains frozen, but then she hugs me back like only a mother can.

“Matt?” Sophie’s voice comes from behind her. I let go of Maria and turn toward my sister. She runs into my arms, and I lift her up, my tears spilling into her hair. And right there is where I find the comfort I need. The familiar smell of her strawberry shampoo, the warmth she radiates, the way she hugs me back with all her strength—everything about her feels like home.

“What’s happening?”

“I’ll tell you as soon as we get back to the apartment,” I say, putting her down. I turn around quickly to look at Maria, not wanting Sophie to see that I’m crying. “Thank you—for bringing Sophie here. For taking care of her.”

Maria stares back at me with wide eyes. I can tell she knows something is terribly wrong, and I’m almost sure she knows what it is, but for the longest time, she doesn’t say anything.

While we stand there in silence, Leslie, my sister’s friend, slowly gets up from the couch and goes to stand next to her mom. In the background, I can hear the TV and two boys fighting.

“Is everything okay?” Maria asks finally.