She strode from the room. Davy stayed, biting his lip and looking torn and miserable.

“Milagros said to tell you that when you’re ready, she’ll be there,” he said softly.

Wunder’s backpack was next to his bed. He grabbed The Miraculous out of it. “Take this to her,” he said. Then he threw the book at Davy.

Davy stepped out of the way just in time. Then he picked the book up and left.

And the stone of Wunder’s heart felt colder than it ever had, heavier than it ever had.

And empty too. His heart was empty.

Chapter 40

At school the next day, Wunder didn’t even have to try to avoid Faye and Davy. Davy waved at him once, but mostly he stayed next to Faye, who acted as if Wunder didn’t exist. Which was fine with Wunder. He hadn’t asked for any of this.

By the time he got home, he felt exhausted, which didn’t make any sense. He hadn’t done anything. But he went straight to his room and lay on his bed. He wondered if it had been like this for his mother, if the less she did, the less she felt able to do. If the more she was alone, the more she wanted to be alone.

He must have fallen asleep when he heard someone say, “Wunder.”

He looked up to see his mother in his doorway.

Wunder jumped out of bed. Only six weeks ago—it seemed like years ago, how could it have been so recently?—having his mother in his room was nothing unusual. She was always in there, after school to sit at his desk and talk to him about his day, at night to tell him to sleep tight, on Saturday mornings to read his new Miraculous entries.

But now—now his first thought was that she needed to leave. Not because he was angry at her, although he was. She needed to leave because of what was in the far corner of the room.

He wondered frantically how to hide the crib, if he could throw a blanket over it or position himself in front of her somehow. He knew she wouldn’t want to see it. That was why it was still in his room. The crib was a reminder of what had happened, and she did not want to be reminded.

But there was nothing he could do. She saw it right away, and she stood there, as silent as Wunder had been with Tomás, rooted in place, petrified, ossified.

When she finally spoke, her voice was loud and tight sounding, spooled-up sounding. “Dad has to work late tonight. And I have to go out for a little while. I have something to do. Please don’t go anywhere.”

Then she turned and almost ran from the room. Wunder went to the hall and watched as she fled out the front door, slamming it behind her. She hadn’t stopped to change from her slippers into her shoes. She hadn’t brought her coat. She hadn’t even taken her keys.