This time we go out for groceries—peanut butter and jam and bread, hard-boiled eggs, a bag of chips, and baby carrots. Carlos had the good sense to bring a soccer ball, and we also stop off at a dollar store and buy a Frisbee and a cheap plastic bat and balls. We find a small triangular park and play with Kamal, so he’s laughing and throwing himself on the ground each time he catches the Frisbee. We do this until the tree shadows lengthen on the grass and the rest of the families are picking up and leaving. This time we go to a Red Lobster, where they have an all-you-can-eat buffet, and we eat so much our stomachs ache and back at the motel, all we can do is moan happily on the beds. Already this feels like a real vacation, lazing through my limbs like thick honey.

Turning on my phone, I see a stream of messages and texts from Lidia. Status? You promised me. One day. Then I check my emails and see a message from Amirah, the bookstore manager. Just confirming you’ll be available for training later this summer?

I show Carlos the email. “What am I supposed to tell her? I didn’t even tell my mom about this job.”

“You didn’t want to, did you?”

I look at him in surprise. My cheeks go warm again. It’s as if Carlos were seeing right through me. How could he know me when he doesn’t know me? And yet there’s something old and familiar between us. I write her back, Will get back to you soon. I switch the phone off. Then I jump up, hoping he doesn’t notice that I’m blushing, and say sternly to Kamal, “Time for a bath.”

He jams his arms against his chest. “It’s ugly in there.”

“So are you,” I tease.

I go and run the water and even though he makes a wrinkly nose, he does take a bath. To my relief, Kamal hasn’t had any accidents since we got on the road. I’d been a little weirded out, sleeping next to him.

While Kamal is in the bathroom, Carlos and I sit on the floor, backs against the bed, and go back to flicking through the TV stations. The news is the same awful stuff: chaos at the border. Kids sobbing for their parents. Carlos looks drawn and tired, older.

“What about your aunt?” I ask. “Have you heard from her?”

“She’s back in Mexico. They put her on a plane.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Not sure. Someone told me Canada is better. I think I have a cousin there.”

We go back to watching. His body is solid next to mine. I almost reach for his hand. Then he snaps the news off.