And yet . . . the shelves were gone. The back wall was now twenty feet or so away from him, and even in the dim light that came through the frosted glass, Héctor could see what sat in the middle of the room.

A bed.

A whole bed.

Sheets, pillows, a bed frame.

A.

Whole.

Bed.

On top, though, was the greatest impossibility of all. Héctor crept in hesitation to the bed, and then ran his hands over the soft black-and-white cobija that lay over everything. The tiger stared at him majestically.

It was the same cobija he had at home.

Because this was already weird enough, he let his backpack slide to the ground, and he climbed on top of the bed.

It was like sinking into a cloud. No, better than that. As Héctor stretched out, it felt like he was a cloud, as if the only worry he had in the world was deciding where to rain down upon the earth.

His heart was racing. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real.

But then he kicked his shoes off. (It would be a mortal crime to have shoes in bed, even in this definitely-fake-and-not-real bed.) He stuck his legs under the cobija and let his head fall onto the firm, yet comforting pillows. He almost laughed as he pulled the cobija up to his chin.

He just wanted to try it out. You know, see how it felt.

It felt so good.

He pulled one of the extra pillows to his chest and held it tight.

Oh, yeah. This was incredible.

He sank. He disappeared into darkness, into a sleep that was uneventful. Peaceful. Necessary. He didn’t dream, either. He just . . . slept.

And then his eyes shot open.

No. NO.

Had he fallen asleep?!

Héctor had never felt panic rush through his body like this. He jolted upright and swung his legs over the edge. He tried to jam his feet into his shoes, but then the heel of the left one folded down, and he couldn’t get it all the way on. Oh, God, how long had he been out?

His stomach rumbled in protest. He was now starving, and as he struggled to get his left heel in the correct position, he wished he had time to get something to eat.

Time.

Wait, what time was it?

Héctor was so wrapped up in his own fear and confusion that he didn’t care who might be on the other side of the door. He burst from the closet, panting, and he looked up at the clock, which read—

That . . . that was not possible.

7:45 a.m.

He wiped at his face. No. He had gone into the closet just before the homeroom bell rang!

But . . . the hallways were empty. He quickly darted down to the nearest classroom and put his face to the frosted glass.

The lights were out. No one was there.