“I’ve only talked to him once,” Ma says. “I barely had time to ask him questions.”

In that moment, I can’t help it. I start to beg. “Ma, no matter what they tell you, you can’t just leave the country. You have to do everything you can to stay.”

“Sí, mijo,” she answers quickly. “I haven’t given up hope. I’ll find a way to come back to you.”

I nod quietly to myself. Even though she’s said this before, today I believe it a little less than I did last time.

When I see Kimmie walking down the hallway holding hands with Darryl the next day, I have to do a double take to make sure my eyes aren’t playing a trick on me. I knew everything was going well, but I had no idea things between them were hold-hands-in-the-hallway official.

“Heya,” Kimmie says.

“Hey,” I say, staring at Darryl. He’s taller than he seemed from far away, but just as good-looking.

“Kimmie keeps telling me about you, but we haven’t really met,” he says, flashing a big smile at me. I’m grateful that he speaks first, because I had no idea what I was gonna say. I shake his hand, and when he looks right into my eyes, I feel a little weak in the knees.

“Nice to meet you.” In the back of my mind, I notice that he said “Kimmie” instead of “Kimberly.” Sneaking a glance at her, I wonder what made her decide not to introduce herself to Darryl by her full name, as she’s been doing with everyone else lately.

We start moving down the hallway slowly, in the direction of Kimmie’s locker. Even though she and Darryl are walking right next to me, I feel more alone than I’ve felt in a long while.

I can’t help but think about two days ago, when we were eating cannoli in Adam’s kitchen. It’s hard to ignore the fact that, while Adam is off at an audition and Kimmie is walking hand in hand with a boy—and not just any boy—I’m here with a knot in my throat because of the conversation I had with Ma yesterday. All morning, I’ve been asking myself the same questions that kept me up for hours last night—whether she’ll survive the detention center, whether she’s even being given proper food and a bed to sleep on, whether she’ll ever be able to come back home.

“So Kimmie tells me you’re thinking of applying to NYU next year?” Darryl says suddenly.

I try my best to smile. “Yeah, uh…”

“Darryl just got his acceptance letter,” Kimmie tells me as we reach her locker.

“Oh, wow,” I say, my eyebrows shooting up. “What program are you doing?”