Now his insides were a checkerboard and his room was bare and he was planning on getting rid of his life’s work. He was definitely different.

At school, his best friends, Tomás and Davy, were waiting by his locker.

“Hey, Wunder,” Tomás said, flipping his hair back. Tomás had been doing more things like that since they started sixth grade, things like styling his hair very carefully and matching his shirts to his sneakers. “What’s going on?”

Wunder couldn’t think of an answer to this question. He hadn’t talked to Tomás during the past two weeks—he hadn’t talked to any friends—but Tomás’s mother had come to the house the day before the funeral. She had brought flowers and a card and a huge casserole, and she had talked quietly to Wunder’s father, had even knocked on Wunder’s mother’s door.

And Faye had said Ms. Shunem had told their class about the funeral. So Tomás knew. Everyone probably knew.

“Some things, I guess,” Wunder finally said. “I mean, nothing. I don’t know.”

His voice sounded like it didn’t belong to him. It sounded flat, like it had been squashed under something heavy and cold.

Standing a little behind Tomás, Davy didn’t speak but gave a half wave and a half smile. Davy had not changed since they started sixth grade. His hair was as curly and unstyled as ever, he was still quiet and cautious, and he still carried his schoolbooks in the mailbag he used on his morning paper route, Branch Hill Broadcast written in bright red on the side.

“Do you want to go to the Snack Shack after school?” Tomás asked. “They got a new arcade game last week. It’s like that super-old one, Space Invaders, but with a huge screen and lasers and stuff.”

Wunder turned back to Tomás. “What?” he asked.

“The Snack Shack,” Tomás repeated slower. Louder. “My mom said she’ll drive us.” He glanced over at Davy. “You’ve got to come. Otherwise it’ll just be me and Davy again.”

Davy gave an apologetic smile.

“Maybe,” Wunder said. He put his hands in his pockets. “I might be able to do that. I might not, but maybe.”

Tomás seemed satisfied with this. He flipped his hair and headed toward English class. Wunder and Davy followed. Davy still didn’t say anything, but he kept sneaking looks at Wunder, front teeth gnawing on his bottom lip, both hands gripping the strap of his bag.

Wunder had been worried that they would ask him about his sister. But he hadn’t thought about what he would do if they didn’t.

He wasn’t as surprised about Tomás. Tomás almost never asked about Wunder’s weekend or his family or anything that didn’t have to do with Tomás. Wunder wouldn’t have said this aloud, but he sometimes thought that if he and Tomás hadn’t met when they were little, they would never be friends now.

But Davy—Davy’s mom had gotten cancer when they were in third grade. She didn’t die, but she had been really, really sick. And Wunder had talked to him about it. Not a lot, but he hadn’t pretended like it wasn’t happening. He hadn’t pretended like Mrs. Baum didn’t exist.