A locker slams shut, and it feels like his brain is going to explode, like he is a circuit set to overload any second. Every sound, every flash of light, is like a flood, and he’s going to drown.

He doesn’t even know where he’s going, but he knows it is another attack. His therapist calls them “episodes,” and he likes that word. It makes it sound like a television show. But more importantly, it means that it has an ending. And that’s what he needs more than anything: an end to this torrent of overstimulation. He can barely keep his eyes open, and he just runs.

DeShawn does not even remember passing through a doorway. He only hears the soft click of a latch finding its place.

Then all the sound is gone.

He freezes, then opens his eyes.

He is in a room. The walls are a dark red, almost black, and they look so soft. He reaches out and touches the one nearest to him; it’s like velvet. The sensation sends a shiver up his arm, and his mind quiets down.

There’s a beanbag.

There’s a steaming cup on a table.

He approaches it.

Is that . . . chamomile? His favorite tea?

There’s a bowl there, too, and tears spring to his eyes when he sees it is full of tiny marbles. He plops down on the beanbag, relishing how comfortable it feels, then sticks his fingers into the bowl.

It’s a sound he likes, the way the marbles strike one another.

It calms him.

Fills him with nothing but a sound that he can control.

He smiles.

DeShawn does not understand it, but somehow, this room is exactly what he needs.

Acknowledgments

Thank you.

To my agent, DongWon Song, who has watched this manuscript take shape from an idea that came from the very first book I wrote in 2003. You encouraged me to pursue writing a middle grade book, and I am forever in your debt because of that.

To Stephanie Stein, my editor extraordinaire. Throughout this process, you pushed me to make this more queer. More ridiculous. More heartfelt. This book doesn’t exist in its final form without you, and I hope I have a long, long career making books with you.

To the entire Harper Collins team, for your loving, thoughtful, and detailed support of The Insiders. You’ve made this nonbinary queer Latinx writer extremely, extremely happy. Shout out to Louisa Currigan, Jon Howard, Jessie Gang, Meghan Pettit, Allison Brown, Jacquelynn Burke, and Robby Imfeld.

To Helder Oliveira, whose show-stopping illustrations make up the cover for this book. I cried when I saw your first draft, and my heart swelled up a million sizes when I saw the final one. Thank you for bringing Héctor, Juliana, and Sal to life.