Even though all I hear inside my mind is my own voice yelling no, I manage to nod and say, “Yes.”

Maria blinks a few times. “Where’s your mom and dad?”

I shake my head. I’ll need to explain to Sophie what happened, and I’ll need to do it soon, but now is not the time. Her life is about to change, and I need to think a little about what I’m going to say.

“We need to go home,” I say, putting a hand on Sophie’s shoulder and leading her toward the door. “Thanks again for everything.”

Maria opens her mouth, draws air in as though she’s about to say something, but the second I meet her gaze, she presses her lips together. Maybe there’s something in my eyes that makes her change her mind about arguing with me. Maybe she can see all the exhaustion, all the shock, all the anxiety from the past hour. Maybe she can see the uncertainty that’s plaguing my mind, the paralyzing fear I have of going back home and opening the door to find the apartment empty once again. Or maybe she can see that I’m preparing for something important—that I need to save my energy for the talk I’m about to have with Sophie.

Whatever her reason for staying quiet, Maria doesn’t look away from my eyes. She nods once, as if saying, Do what you need to do.

As Sophie and I turn to walk down the hallway, I nod back. I’m hoping that my nod will say, I know what I’m doing. I can take care of Sophie. We’ll be okay. But I can tell Maria doesn’t believe it. How could she, when I don’t even believe it myself?

4

I’D HAVE THOUGHT SOPHIE WOULD START ASKING me questions the second we leave Maria’s apartment, but she doesn’t. She remains silent, walking slowly by my side, as we make our way back home.

At first, I’m a little relieved. At least I’ll have a bit more time to think about what I’m going to say. But after a few blocks, her silence starts making me uneasy. It’s so unnatural for her to be this quiet, especially when there are so many unanswered questions about what happened today.

She knows, I think to myself, and with that thought comes a sharp pain that hits me in the chest.

I sneak a glance at her from the corner of my eye and see that she’s walking with her shoulders slumped. Her backpack looks too big for her, as it always does, and her face doesn’t reveal even the slightest trace of emotion. It’s as if she’s just walking, putting one foot in front of the other, but she’s not really there.