When he gazed up at her, there was an odd look on her face. What is that? he wondered.

He didn’t say anything back to her. She merely smiled and walked over to Papi to talk to him.

It came suddenly: Does she suspect something is wrong? Héctor thought he’d been pretty good at putting on a brave front, and he wanted to maintain that. He would figure out something to deal with Mike eventually. He didn’t want to make his family’s life any harder.

Mike’s voice echoed in his mind:

“You know what I do to snitches?”

Héctor gulped. Now there was that to worry about, too. No, he definitely could not tell anyone about this.

Dinner was loud, especially once Mami got home, and Héctor did his best to blend in. He helped with the dishes, gave his abuela and his parents a kiss good night, then headed to his room. Without much thought, he pulled out some gray jeans, a black T-shirt, and a long red flannel, one that was too big for him. But he liked how dramatically it flowed behind him when he walked. He laid them out on the bed, excited for the morning.

Then he thought about how many people would look at him. How he would basically be painting a target on his back.

He put away the flannel.

It’ll be easier to disappear, he thought.

Before he climbed into bed, he opened up his group chat with Sophia and Tim. He wasn’t sure he was going to tell them what he was feeling, but he knew they could cheer him up quickly. What are y’all doing? Any good gossip from school?

Moments later:

Sophia: yeah. some good stuff. busy with homework tho.

Tim: there’s always time for gossip, soph! spill spill spill!

A short burst of a conversation ensued. It turned out that Nick Royce had been bad-mouthing the singing coach, so now his role was in jeopardy.

Héctor: karma. it has to be.

Sophia: we can only hope!

Héctor: this has given me LIFE, soph. you have no idea.

He hopped into bed and flipped off the lights. Then he pulled his cobija—the one Abuela got him at the Ashby BART flea market, black with a white tiger on both sides—over his head. In the darkness and silence, his thoughts swirled. Maybe he needed to try harder with the Table of Misfits. He couldn’t do another silent lunch again. All he had to do was keep his head down, get to the cafeteria, and hope that he hadn’t ruined his chance at friendship.

He fell asleep with his sore thumb clutched to his chest.

Chapter Twelve

But Héctor tossed and turned all night. If there were dreams, he didn’t remember them. He was sluggish at breakfast. “Tú eres como un perezoso,” Mami said.

A sloth. She called him a sloth.