When I see Mercedes sneak out the rear door of the planetarium, I know it’s now or never. To break the rules. To go someplace new. To find my father. I clutch my backpack, then stop. But—what would happen if I don’t follow? I picture Mercedes, with her confident voice and easy smile, meeting Francisco Gómez, maybe telling him his other daughter didn’t want to meet him. I imagine them strolling into the sunset on one of Santa Cruz’s beaches. I shake my head. That’s not the way it’s supposed to happen. I can feel it deep inside. I can’t explain the feeling. The certainty that this is what has to happen right now. I need to meet my father.

I stumble out of my seat, dragging my Operation D.A.D. supplies behind me. Luckily, everyone seems mesmerized by a sudden splash of starlight that streaks across the auditorium and no one notices me making my escape.

When I emerge, I’m blinded by the lights in the hallway. At first I don’t see Mercedes. Where is she? What if she left already? Is she walking into the sunset with our father? Then I spot her. She’s on the floor, her head between her knees.

“What’s the matter?”

She shakes her head but doesn’t look up.

“Are you okay?” I crouch next to her. She doesn’t answer. “Did you get in trouble?” I glance up and down the hallway. At our end is the door from the auditorium and in the other direction is a glass doorway leading outside. No teachers in sight. It’s just us.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” she snaps, but she doesn’t move.

“Did you get dizzy? Do you need to lie down?”

She doesn’t answer but she slumps farther down the wall until she’s lying on the floor.

“Here, have some water.” I pull my water bottle out of my backpack.

Mercedes lifts her head. Her face is sort of pale. But her eyes are angry. She snatches the water bottle from me and gulps.

I sit next to her. What will I do if she’s sick? I can’t go find Francisco Gómez by myself.

“Are you—”

“I’m fine,” she says again. She doesn’t look at me as she moves back to sitting. Then she slowly stands, batting away my hand when I try to help her. She’s a little unsteady, but then she seems to regain her balance. Her color is returning. “Here.” She shoves my bottle in my face.

“Aren’t you glad for Operation D.A.D.?” I ask. “It’s good to be prepared.”