To Héctor’s left, a door sat ajar. Was he imagining that he’d heard it open? He grabbed the edge of the wood, ran his fingers up and down the smooth surface, then looked at the frosted glass.

JANITOR.

The door?

It absolutely had not been there five minutes ago. He would have seen it! Yet here it was. He peeked inside and saw the pitcher of horchata on the table next to a bowl of cereal. It was waiting for him.

It was tempting. And he hadn’t been late last week when he’d taken the nap or had breakfast. But the uncertainty was a little terrifying. How was it possible that this room defied the passage of time?

Héctor’s stomach growled.

I could use a glass of horchata, he thought.

But if he did end up late, Ms. Heath would definitely give him detention.

Héctor pulled open the door wider and slipped inside quickly, ignoring the dread that begged him to go to class. But relief washed over him immediately when he walked in. It was exactly as it had been that last time. He turned and closed the door, then rested his head against it, taking in one breath after another, trying to slow down his racing heart. His backpack slipped off his shoulder and came to rest on the floor.

He heard footsteps in the hallway. They passed.

No one knew he was here. He could have a moment of peace. And somehow, this room seemed to know exactly what would calm him down.

Crash!

A shattering sound rang out behind him, and Héctor’s soul nearly leaped out of his body. He spun around.

His mouth dropped open.

NO!

There was a girl there—her skin dark, her hair black, separated down the middle and tied off in two puffs, her face twisted up in shock and horror—sitting on the couch.

His couch.

Eating his Cocoa Puffs.

No.

How?

How had someone else found his room?

Chapter Fifteen

Héctor screamed.

She screamed.

He backed up until he hit the door behind him.

She backed up until her shoulders smacked against the wall behind her.

“Who are you?” Héctor shouted.

“Who are you?” she shot back.

“How did you get in here?”

She came toward him. “No, how did you get in here?”

“Through the door?” He gestured at it behind him.

“You just walked through that door?”

“It is how doors work,” he said, laying on the sarcasm.

“But how did you find the door?” she demanded. “You can’t just find it.”

“What are you talking about?” Héctor was out of breath, and his hands were in his hair. “I just . . . walked through it?”

She sneered at him. “Clearly! But I’ve never even seen you at my school.” Her dark-brown eyes went wide. “Were you following me?”

“What?! Ew, no. I would never.”