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place. “You understand what has to happen if—if we can’t change things?” Papi never said the word “deported.” It was like the word “cancer.” To say it was to make it true.
    â€œIt’s not going to happen,” she answered firmly.
    â€œPlease, Mija. You need to face the possibility. How can Dulce and Mateo be strong if you fall apart?”
    â€œUmm.” Luna turned her head away and gazed out at other vehicles whizzing along the highway. She imagined herself traveling in a different car, with people who never had to worry about the things her family had had to worry about for practically her entire existence.
    â€œAlirio and Maria José have talked it over. It will be tight, but . . .” His voice drifted off. Luna didn’t want to talk about Papi’s cousins. She’d met them maybe half a dozen times in her life. They lived in Queens in a two-bedroom apartment with their three children, all under the age of eight. How long could she, Dulce, and Mateo realistically stay with them?
    â€œWe don’t have a choice, at least for now,” said her father. “You can still go to high school in Queens. And Dulce and Mateo can continue their educations.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter as though they were having an argument. Maybe he was having one with himself. “If I take them back to Mexico with me, what future would they have?”
    â€œIt won’t come to that.” Luna laced her fingers on her lap to keep them from shaking. Fortunately, Dulce and Mateo were fighting again, so they weren’t really listening. They understood, but they didn’t. It was a blessing really.
    In Broad Plains, Luna helped her father locate the address. It was a tall gray office building on a street of other tall gray office buildings. Papi parked the car, grabbed his thick envelope of papers, and herded all of them onto the sidewalk. He straightened Mateo’s tie and smoothed the braids Luna had put into Dulce’s hair that morning. By the time they walked into the building, Papi was sweating heavily.
    The lobby was empty except for a bored-looking security guard. Her father showed the man a dog-eared business card that read: BRODY, KATZ, O’CONNOR AND SCHULMAN—ATTORNEYS AT LAW. The guard directed them to a bank of elevators that let them off on the fifteenth floor. Dulce and Mateo were silent on the way up. Luna wondered if even they understood that their family’s very existence might depend on the man they were about to see.
    On the fifteenth floor, they got off and wandered around until they found the office door. Papi knocked hesitantly and then pushed the door open. On the other side was a large room with black leather furniture and framed diplomas on the walls. A short, balding Mexican-looking man with a big nose and a fat belly stepped out of an office and greeted Luna’s father in Spanish. He was dressed in an expensive-looking sweater and casual slacks that made their overdressed church clothes look desperate.
    â€œSeñor Gonzalez,” Papi bowed. “I’m very honored that you have agreed to speak with me today.” He used his most polite and formal Spanish. Luna wondered if this was how he addressed the patrón who owned his family’s land when he was a boy. She had no memory of their life there. Her parents left when she was only three.
    Señor Gonzalez seemed to appreciate her father’s deferential tone. He shook Papi’s hand and smiled warmly at Dulce and Mateo. He didn’t look at Luna. She wasn’t sure why.
    â€œSeñor Serrano, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said. “Adele Figueroa has told me so much about you. Why don’t you leave the children out here in the waiting area? It’s perfectly safe. And you can come and sit with my lawyer, Adam Katz.”
    Papi shot Luna a nervous look. His English was passable, but Luna knew he would