“I have to ask you something,” he said.

“I know,” said Juliana.

“What school do you go to?”

She turned to him, her eyes wide. “Swifton Middle School.”

Héctor pointed at himself. “Orangevale Middle School.”

Juliana swallowed and turned away. “I don’t know where that is.”

“California,” he said. “Just outside Sacramento.”

“I’ve never even heard of Sacramento,” she admitted. “Wait! Isn’t that the capital?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m kinda close to that.” He paused, his heart flopping in his chest. “And you?”

“I’m in Charleston.”

His mouth dropped open for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. “In South Carolina?”

“At least you know what state it’s in,” she grumbled. “One of my cousins swears I’m in Georgia.”

“This is not happening,” Héctor announced.

Then he stood up.

“Nah, this is not real.”

He stormed over to the door of the room.

Flung it open.

And looked upon the hallways of Orangevale Middle School.

“See?” He gestured out of the room. “That’s my school. Not . . . whatever you said.” Then it hit him, so completely he could not believe he had not considered it before. “Is this a prank? Did Mike put you up to this?”

Juliana scoffed at him, then rose from the couch to join him in the doorway. “I have no idea who you’re referring to,” she said. “But you’re wrong.”

She closed the door.

She opened it.

Héctor had not expected the day to get weirder, but here he was.

Staring into the halls of a different school.

The walls at Juliana’s school were shiny and gray, and rows and rows of lockers spilled out in either direction. Students rushed by to make it to their next classroom, talking to one another, and apparently completely oblivious to the presence of Héctor and Juliana.

This was . . . a hologram. Something out of a science fiction book. It couldn’t be real. He fully expected that if he left the room now, this would all be revealed to be a computer simulation. That would make more sense to him than . . . than this.

But he watched Juliana enter the hallway and then do a little spin with her arms out. “Welcome to Swifton Middle School,” she announced. “It’s a lovely fall morning here. Class is about to start.”

And then Héctor finally stepped out, his gaze pulled up by the skylights in the ceiling. There was so much more natural light here. He’d gotten used to the lifeless fluorescent bulbs that lined the hallways of Orangevale Middle School.

“How am I here?” Héctor said. “I’m in another state.”

Juliana bounded back into the room, and he followed. She shut the door, and the two of them just stared at one another.

“So,” he said.

“So,” she said.

“When did you find the room?” Héctor asked.