“I know you are,” she said, sighing. “And for what it’s worth, I appreciate you actually apologizing. And not only that, but showing up for me when I really needed it, even though you didn’t have to.”

“I always will,” they said.

“It’s just . . . you know, why did you go to ‘ghetto’ first? That’s what hurt the most.”

“I assumed,” said Sal, hanging their head. “And that’s the problem. I should know better, too. People make assumptions based on my appearance all the time.”

Juliana nodded her head. “As long as it doesn’t happen again.”

“I’ll do better,” Sal promised. “Okay?”

They shook on it, and Héctor had hope that this bump in the road could be repaired. “So . . . what now?” he asked. “Because Sal and I are still thousands of miles from home.”

Sal’s eyes went as big as plates. “Oh. Right.”

“I don’t know,” said Juliana. “I assume the Room will let you go home?”

As if on cue, Sal pointed behind Héctor. “Is that what it looks like to either of you?”

There, between the staff bathroom and another office, was a door.

JANITOR.

“That’s my door,” said Héctor, and a swell of pride rose in his chest. “I guess it’s time to go home.”

He waved to Juliana and Sal, then opened the door and stepped through. The Room was a janitor’s closet. He greeted King Ferdinand, closed the door, took a breath, then opened it again.

The clock in the hallway of Orangevale Middle School read 8:14 a.m.

Héctor ran. It didn’t matter if Ms. Heath called his name at that moment, because nothing could stop him.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Somehow, Héctor was supposed to have a normal school day after that.

His classes happened. That was the best way he could think about it. He may have learned something in them, but who could tell? All he could think about was the Room. Juliana. Sal. The unbelievable absurdity of it all.

Except it wasn’t unbelievable because it really happened.

At lunch, he did his best not to think too much about the Room. It wasn’t that hard, since as soon as he sat down, Taylor offered up his theory that all fruit on the planet wasn’t really fruit. “I think aliens planted them here.”

“That makes no sense,” said Jackson, aggressively taking a bite of his apple. “This thing is delicious.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” said Taylor.

“Why is that?” Héctor asked.

“So that you’ll eat more.”

Aishah shook her head. “Okay . . . and then what?”

“And then have lots of their alien babies.”

At first, they all burst out laughing, but Taylor stopped. “You don’t think I’m right?”