When I don’t answer, Mrs. Solís takes a step closer to us. For a moment, she stares at me without blinking, but then she frowns, her chest trembling as she lets out a long breath through her nose.

“I shouldn’t meddle,” she says softly. “I’m sorry. But I do want to say this: I have never regretted asking for help when I needed it. Sometimes, the only way to be strong is to let someone else carry some of the weight with you. Just something for you to think about.”

She turns around and opens the door of the apartment slowly. Right before she closes it behind her, she whispers, “Don’t forget to lock this.”

“What did all of that mean?” Sophie asks me right away, but I don’t answer. I’m too busy making sense of everything our neighbor just said.

All these years, I’ve always thought of Mrs. Solís as the old lady from down the hall who couldn’t figure out how to use an electronic device to save her life. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to see this other side of her—her wisdom, the genuine way she cares about my family.

“Those people might’ve wanted to take us away.”

“Take us where?”

I shake my head slightly. “Nowhere good, Sophie.”

“Are we safe?”

“I think so.” I don’t believe they’ll be coming back—not if they think they’re never going to find us here anyway. “Thanks to Mrs. Solís, we might be.”

As I turn on the oven to heat up some of Laura Acevedo’s empanadas, I start to wonder if our neighbor is right—if we’re just delaying the inevitable by staying here. Despite everything Sophie and I did on Saturday, the laundry hamper is already getting fuller and the fridge emptier, and I haven’t even had time to wash the dishes, or take out the trash, or sweep the floors. I have no idea how Ma and Pa managed to get these things done without us realizing, because just the thought of doing it all again this weekend makes me feel exhausted.

But when I call Jorge a few hours later, I don’t mention Child Protective Services. We talk about the lawyer he found, and about how Pa said he might get released on bond. In the end, I don’t ask him if we can come stay with him and Amy. I guess I just want to feel like I still get to call the shots—as though I still have a say in what happens with our lives—if only about this one thing.

8

THE NEXT DAY AFTER SCHOOL, I MEET Kimmie and Adam right outside the front doors.

“You guys ready to go?” Adam asks, readjusting his backpack over his shoulder.