Thursday, he sat at the Table of Misfits without saying anything, and he spent the whole lunch hoping no one would bring up the incident in the hallway. No one did, and he was thankful for that. On Friday, however, he wasn’t so lucky. The others were already at the table when he put his lunch tray down, and Jackson looked up at him. “You doing okay?” he asked.

Héctor shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, and he sat alongside Jackson. “Just mostly catching up in all my classes.”

“That’s good,” said Jackson. There was an awkward pause. “But I meant after the other day.”

Everyone at the table—even Pat, all the way down at the other end—was staring at Héctor. His heart pounded. He hated the looks on their faces. They all seemed sorry for him.

“I’m good,” he said. “Keeping to myself.”

For the moment, it satisfied them, and to Héctor’s relief, the conversation continued.

When Friday afternoon arrived, Héctor dreaded all the homework he’d accumulated. But he needed something for himself, so as he climbed into his papi’s car, he launched immediately into his plan for Saturday.

“Okay, so I’m thinking chilaquiles tomorrow morning. Only if you’re up for making them.”

“And hello to you, too, Héctor,” Papi said. “My day was good, how was yours?”

Héctor stuck his tongue out. “Hi, Papi,” he said.

“I take it you’re excited for the weekend?”

“I wanna do something,” he said. “We should get out and explore the neighborhood tomorrow morning before I have to do homework.”

“Really?” Papi turned the truck onto the main street. “Sounds like a good idea. But why?”

He did not tell Papi that he was excited to forget most of his week. Rather, he blurted out, “Because I don’t know Orangevale!”

Which was the truth. All he’d really seen was a couple supermarkets and his school. There had to be more to this city, some place that would make him feel like he was home. Like, where were the good corner markets? Or the places to get boba at?

“Pues, I can ask Abuela where we should go,” Papi said.

“We could, but . . . I kinda wanna find these places myself, you know?”

Papi nodded. “That makes sense.”

“I just . . . I have to find a way to make this place mine, I guess.”

Papi ruffled Héctor’s hair. “Well, I’m free tomorrow. Your mami is on calls all day with the teachers’ union, so it’ll just be me and you. ¿Está bien?”

“Of course it’s fine!” said Héctor.

And he was going to make it so.

Full of his papi’s excellent chilaquiles, Héctor fastened the buckle on his shoulder bag. “Okay, we got everything?”

Papi was carrying a tote bag, and he stood near the front door. “I think so. Run it past me, mijo.”

“Water?”