My locker is on the ground floor, which means I have to run back down after class is over to grab my books before second period. It is there, staring into the dark interior of my locker, that I finally have a second to breathe. Today has felt normal so far—no different than any other Thursday—but then a sinking feeling invades my stomach, reminding me that something is wrong.

I think about Pa. What if those men come back to the bodega while he’s there? What will they do to him?

“Heya,” a voice says from behind the open door of my locker. I swing it shut and find Kimmie standing there, with her black hair in a side ponytail. She keeps switching up the way she does her hair. It’s one of the things she began doing last year, right around the time when she started introducing herself to people as Kimberly and talking about how she didn’t want to blend into the crowd. Another one of her new things: scouring thrift stores for cool clothes. She’s wearing a fluorescent-green jacket that makes her look like she works on the runway at the airport.

“Hey,” I say, letting out a small smile. No matter what’s going on, seeing Kimmie always has a way of making me a little happier. She and I met in middle school, long before Adam came into the picture, and even though I’d never had many friends, Kimmie latched on to me and refused to let go. I’ve never fully understood why she picked me, of all people, but maybe there’s something about the fact that she’s half Korean and I’m Mexican that makes us see the world similarly—maybe both of us have always felt like outsiders in our own ways. Now I’m so grateful to have found her. She’s been by my side through some of the toughest times—surviving that hellhole of a middle school we went to, and my chicken-legs phase, and Ma’s surgery last year.

She loops her arm through mine as we join the slow crowd moving down the hallway. “So,” she says, and just like that, I can tell she knows something. Most of the time, the way she’s able to see right through me is a blessing—it means she’s always there when I need her. Today, however, I wish I could put up a wall and not let her see what I’m thinking about. “Adam told me the audition didn’t go so great yesterday.”

The blow comes unexpectedly. With everything else on my mind, I’d managed to forget about the audition. I think longingly about twenty-four hours ago, when Adam and I were plotting our early escape from school—when I was still so hopeful, when ICE hadn’t yet come looking for my dad.

“No,” I say. “No, it didn’t.”