Well, at least they were cute. He asked her for a cafecito, and she laughed at that. “You are not old enough for that,” she replied.

“And you’d be bouncing off the walls,” Papi added.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. It had to be better than feeling like the human equivalent of a puddle. He nearly dozed off on the ride to school.

He was thankful, then, that Mike and the Minions were nowhere to be found for the first time in over a week. He trudged sleepily toward homeroom. I just need a nap, he thought. Just an hour or two of sleep, and then I’ll be fine.

But it was 8:13 a.m., and the bell was bound to ring any moment. Mrs. Torres would not tolerate anyone sleeping in her English class.

Héctor thought he was imagining the long, wooden creak when it rang out in the hallway. But then it whined out again, and he spun around slowly. There were a couple of kids getting things out of their lockers at the end of the hallway on the right side. Behind them stood an open door. No one even seemed to have noticed it.

He walked toward the door, and to his confusion, it drifted open wider.

He froze, watching the nearby kids. The girl slammed her locker shut, then grabbed the boy’s hand. They both walked off away from Héctor. Neither looked toward the door.

Héctor approached it. It was like most of the others in this school. Dark wood, frosted glass. Except this one had a word in black block letters across the glass: JANITOR.

He shook his head. Why did this school need so many janitor’s closets? There was one near his art classroom, and he’d found a second one the day before.

But when he swung the door open wider, his mouth dropped open. It had the exact same shelves, the exact same supplies . . . no way. He stepped inside and looked up in the corner.

Sure enough, there sat King Ferdinand, right in the middle of his web.

This didn’t make any sense. He turned to leave.

The door was shut.

He didn’t remember closing it. He gripped the metal handle and twisted.

It wouldn’t budge.

The first thought that bloomed in him: Mike did this. It had to be a prank, right? Mike and the Minions must be standing on the other side of the door, holding it shut.

But . . . there were no shadows in the frosted glass. Unless they were crouching down the whole time, Héctor would have seen them. He tried the handle again.

Nothing.

“This isn’t funny,” he called out, but no one answered.

Exasperated, he turned back around.

The closet was bigger.

It was impossible. He knew it. The room could not have gotten bigger.