Daniel was under the big oak tree, poking the grass with a stick. There was something clenched tightly in his fist.

“Whatcha doing?” Carolina sat down beside him while Mami locked the car door.

“Nothing.” He opened his hand wide. “Just looking at my collection. Ben and I have been collecting cool things.” In his palm was a tiny pinecone, a twist of green twine from a hay bale, and a downy chicken feather.

“What are you going to do with the collection?”

Daniel stroked the chicken feather. “It could be a little blanket, for someone tiny.”

“Like an elf?”

“It’d be perfect for an elf.”

“I bet the elves could find something useful to do with the twine too.”

Mami interrupted. “Are you kids being silly again?”

Carolina looked up at Mami, into her brown eyes, lighter and more muted than Carolina’s own. The sun brought out highlights of red in Mami’s dark brown hair, and a tiny bit of sparkling silver. Carolina hadn’t realized that Mami had stopped dyeing her hair, not until she saw that bit of gray. “I don’t think it’s silly, Mami. I think it’s cool.”

She turned back to Daniel, conscious of Mami walking past them, leaving them outside as she headed into the house.

Daniel beamed up at Carolina. He stuffed his collection back in his pocket and gave her a big thumbs-up. “I think you’re cool,” he said.

“Wait a second!” Carolina grabbed Daniel by the shoulder. “Your tooth came out!”

Daniel spread his mouth wide with his fingers. “It happened this afternoon! It was really bloody.”

“Ewww.”

Daniel raced to the door. “Mami had to wash it off and put it in a ziplock baggie, but then Tía Cuca left it for the tooth fairy already! Come look!”

Daniel dragged Carolina to the kitchen counter, where the tooth fairy doll was standing. He scrambled up a stool and held open the pouch so Carolina could see his tooth, wrapped in a plastic baggie, inside. He patted the fairy’s skirts. “I know you’re going to bring me something good.”

“I bet she will!” Tía Cuca said from the stove, where she was making dinner.

“I’m going to see what Papi’s doing,” Daniel said, dashing out of the kitchen.

“Carolina, can you go check on Gabriela?” Tía Cuca asked. “She’s been in her bedroom all day.”

“I’m right here, Mom.” Gabriela shuffled into the kitchen wearing her sweatpants, her hair in a messy bun.

“Honey, you need to get outside tomorrow. All this moping—”

“I’m fine,” said Gabriela. “Let’s just eat.”

Tía Cuca looked at Caro, as if to say, Do something.

“We’ll go get everyone,” Caro said quickly.

“They’re all still upstairs,” Tía Cuca complained, balancing a roasting pan with one hand. “But dinner’s ready now.”

In the stairwell, Gabriela shook her head. “She won’t stop asking me questions.”

“My mom’s the same way,” Caro said. “I guess it comes with being sisters.” She paused at the top of the steps. “Look, Gabriela. I’m sorry about Alyssa. I’m sorry I wasn’t better at making friends with her.”

Gabriela lightly kicked the banister. “I didn’t mean what I said. It wasn’t your fault.” Then she went on in a biting, bitter tone, “Not that it matters whose fault it is if Alyssa and I can’t be friends anymore.”

Awkwardly, Carolina patted Gabriela’s back. Gabriela stood there for a second, looking small and rumpled, before she shrugged off Carolina and climbed up the last few steps. “Dinner’s ready!” she shouted in the hall.

While they ate, Carolina wondered what Daniel would get from the tooth fairy. At home, Mami and Papi had always left a dollar. But it was Tía Cuca’s fairy doll, and maybe she would want to add something this time. Carolina wanted Daniel to get more from the Ratoncito Pérez than the tooth fairy, but not so much that anyone would notice.

She was going to use her birthday money. She’d turned eleven right before they left home, and her aunts and uncles had given her cash because Mami had said that they could not pack or store one single thing more. Having the money had never felt right: only two weeks before her birthday, she’d seen a set of oil paints that strapped neatly into a briefcase for travel, but Mami had shaken her head and said that they were just making do and couldn’t afford extras right now. The memory had made the birthday money feel tainted somehow, and Carolina wished her family had given it to Mami and Papi and not to her. She’d been saving the cash, thinking that when Papi had a job in New York she would use it to buy the paints herself, that by then it wouldn’t feel wrong anymore, but giving some of it to Daniel would be better. It would assuage the guilt faster.

As soon as they finished dinner, Carolina offered to put Daniel to bed.

“That’s so lovely of you to offer,” said Mami. “I could come up, too, if you want to read together again—”

“No, that’s okay!” Carolina hoped her voice wasn’t coming out too high-pitched. “You should take a break, Mami. I’ll read to Daniel so you can relax.”

Mami had her hands on her knees, ready to get up and come with them. “Wow, I don’t know what to say.”

Papi put a hand on Mami’s shoulder. “Say thank you.”

Carolina took Daniel’s hand and made a beeline up the stairs before Mami could think too much about it. She got Daniel into his pajamas quickly and made him brush his teeth and splash cold water on his face. When she had him neatly tucked into bed, the comforter pulled right up under his chin, she went back to her room and retrieved the tiny mouse that Jennifer had made.

“This is for you.”

Daniel sat up and took the mouse. His jaw was hanging open.

“Do you like it?”

Daniel held his fingers to his nose like whiskers and made kissing noises. “It’s a little baby mouse, and I’m a little baby mouse too.”

“He’s not just any little mouse; he’s the Ratoncito Pérez and he’s going to bring you another treat for your tooth.”

“But I already gave my tooth to that fairy downstairs. I don’t have another for him.”

“That’s okay. He doesn’t mind. It’s just a nice thing he likes to do for Puerto Rican kids who lose their teeth.”

Daniel patted the mouse. “Thanks, Mr. Mousie.”

“You have to call him Ratoncito Pérez.”

“Okay, Mr. Ratoncito,” Daniel went on, “I think you’ve got to go under the bed. Mice don’t sleep in kids’ beds, otherwise people get mousetraps. Tía Cuca told me she can’t stand mice.”

“Good idea.” Carolina could hardly believe her luck. This way, she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing the little mouse.

All that was left was figuring out what the grown-ups would put in the tooth fairy doll. She had hoped she would see them putting it in the doll’s pouch, but they must have done it while Carolina was upstairs with Daniel, because they didn’t mention it, and Carolina thought it would seem suspicious or, worse, greedy if she asked.

So she waited until everyone was asleep, then tiptoed down the stairs.

Nighttime at home had been the sound of the coquís and cars, chirping and passing. At home, the steps were concrete, and made no sound.

Here, in between the air-conditioning’s cycles, there was silence. The stairs were wood, and they creaked as she walked, and so did the floors. The sounds of the night were pushed out, and the only light was the flashing green of the alarm system.

Carolina made it into the kitchen and reached into the pouch. She held the bill up to the green light to see what it was.

Someone flipped on the kitchen light and Carolina’s eyes burned from the glare.

“Stealing from your brother?”

Carolina shrieked and clapped her hand over her mouth. Gabriela was standing there in her pajamas.

Carolina glanced at the five-dollar bill in her hand. “No—it’s just—” Why hadn’t she thought of an excuse in case she was caught?

Gabriela crossed her arms. “I can’t believe you, Carolina. Put it back.”

Meekly, Carolina tucked the five-dollar bill back into the tooth fairy’s pouch. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“You mean you didn’t just reach into the tooth fairy’s pouch and take that money?”

“I wasn’t taking it!” Carolina said in an urgent whisper.

“Yeah right,” Gabriela hissed back. “I’m telling my parents.” She walked away.

Carolina dashed behind Gabriela and grabbed her by the shoulder. “You can’t! Please, let me explain.”

Gabriela paused at the threshold between the kitchen and the living room. She gave Carolina a withering look and flipped off the lights.

The air-conditioning started again, and beneath its rattle Carolina could take the stairs two at a time without having to worry about the squeaking sound. She burst into Gabriela’s room just seconds behind her.

“I’m going back to bed.” Gabriela yanked her comforter and climbed under the covers. “You’ve done enough damage without keeping me up half the night.”

Carolina pulled the door shut behind her, climbed over the piles of magazines on the floor, and sat on Gabriela’s director chair. “You can go to sleep, but I’m going to talk.”

“Fine. I’m not going to listen to you anyway.” Gabriela folded her arms and squeezed her eyes shut.

“I wasn’t trying to take Daniel’s tooth fairy money. I love Daniel. He’s my little brother, remember?”

Gabriela’s eyelids twitched.

“I wanted to see how much the tooth fairy was giving Daniel, because I want to leave him something from the Ratoncito Pérez too.”

Gabriela opened one eye. “The mouse?”

“Yes, the mouse.” Carolina cleared her throat, and now she told Gabriela more—she told her about how the Ratoncito Pérez was fond of taking teeth, and then once she got started she kept going, and told Gabriela the folktale of the Cucarachita Martina, the cockroach who married a mouse. Carolina had always wondered if it was the same mouse or someone else altogether.

“You mean the story doesn’t say? Wouldn’t it mention if the mouse was running off to collect teeth all the time?”

Carolina shrugged. “In my imagination it was always the same mouse.”

“I wish I had learned this stuff when I was little. Like you.” Gabriela pulled a loose thread on her comforter, frowning at how it bunched. In the orange glow of the bedside lamp, Gabriela looked gentler: her hair was a little wavy at the ends, and the sweatshirt she slept in was pilled and fuzzy.

“I don’t think my parents are going to teach Daniel. But I am.” Carolina sat up a little straighter.

Gabriela pursed her lips. “At least you lived in Puerto Rico. I don’t even speak Spanish.”

It was as if Carolina was seeing Gabriela for the first time: not her long legs, or her black hair, or her straight and shiny teeth, but her face, the curiosity and sadness in her eyes. “Well, I could tell you about Puerto Rico, if that’s what you want. It’s not like you haven’t been there.”

Gabriela shook her head. “It was such a long time ago, and we were only there for a few days.” She kicked off the comforter. “It’s totally unfair. The Rogans think I’m some kind of sexy-Chiquifancy-nightmare just because I’m Puerto Rican, and then I don’t even know about the Pérez guy! It’s a lose-lose-lose situation!”

“At least you can dance. I can’t.”

“A lot of good that does me if I don’t have friends.”

“I have an idea,” Carolina said. “I could show you my sketchbook. I drew lots of stuff from Puerto Rico, and things for Daniel—like the Cucarachita Martina. It’s not the same as being there, of course, but if you want to see it—”

“Yeah,” Gabriela said. “I’d like that. Sometime.” She slouched down and stared into space, as if she were too tired to move.

Carolina tried to think of things that might cheer up Gabriela, pull her out of this desperately sad state. “I like how you’re never uncomfortable,” she blurted out finally.

Gabriela jerked her head up. “Huh?”

“I mean”—Carolina searched for the words for what she meant—“I always feel awkward. Sometimes when I have an idea or I’m worried about something I can’t stop thinking about it, until it all starts going around and around in my brain and everything I say comes out all clunky. I like how you’re always—I don’t know, graceful. Nothing seems to bother you.”

“Lots of things bother me.”

“Like us moving here?”

Gabriela stared at her hands. “It’s not that you moving here bothers me. I actually kind of like that our house isn’t so empty anymore. My parents used to obsess over me all the time; now they can worry about you and Daniel some of the time. It’s just…”

“I’m weird,” Carolina finished for her.

Gabriela shook her head. “No, you’re not. Actually, you know what? You’re not at all.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. “Or if you are, I don’t care. I’m done caring.” She marched across the room.

“Where are you going?”

“To your room. I want to see your sketchbook.” Gabriela took Carolina’s hand firmly, yanked open the door, and led her across the hallway of the sleeping house.

They huddled on Carolina’s bed together, and Carolina flipped through her sketchbook, searching for a drawing she’d made from a photo of the house her grandmother had lived in. Señora Rivón had told her it was a good drawing because she’d captured the shade of the palm fronds hitting the house perfectly, taking into account the angle of the sun and the shape of the tree.

“This was our grandmother’s house,” Carolina said proudly. “Mami and Tía Cuca’s mom, Carmen. My mom had a photo of the house from before Abuela Carmen died, and I drew it.” She went to turn the page, but Gabriela took the sketchbook out of her hands and examined it.

“I remember that house,” Gabriela said. “From when we visited when I was little. There was this statue of the Virgin Mary in the backyard, and a little fountain. There were goldfish in it.” Gabriela closed her eyes. “Lots of birds too. There must have been a bird feeder. And wind chimes.” She opened her eyes. “I loved that house.”

Carolina stared at her and took back the sketchbook. “That’s wasn’t Abuela Carmen’s house. That was my house. The one we’re selling.” She closed the book.

“Oh.” Gabriela eyed the book again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Carolina took a deep breath. “I guess I could tell you about my house too. It was a good house.”

Gabriela inched closer to Carolina. “Want to hear a secret? I loved our old house. My parents said it was too small and it was always too hot or too cold because it was so old, but I still didn’t really want to move. Even though I have a bigger room and I live closer to Alyssa now—not that that matters anymore—I still miss it.”

“I have a drawing of the fountain.” Carolina tucked her hair behind her ear and spread the sketchbook across both of their laps. Gabriela’s hair smelled like vanilla and coconut, and Carolina wondered if that was what made it so shiny. She showed Gabriela the drawing of the fountain and, finally, the latest drawing she’d made, of the flamboyán tree in the yard. “That was where I used to do my drawing.” She wiped her nose with the sleeve of her sweater.

Gabriela examined the flamboyán tree for a long time, saying nothing. Then she said, “We’ve got to talk our parents into taking us to visit soon.”

“Someday,” Carolina said, knowing that if it had been years since Uncle Porter and Tía Cuca had bought three plane tickets to Puerto Rico, it might be even more years, ages, before they went again.

Gabriela handed back the sketchbook, reverently. “Don’t you have to bring Daniel his Pérez-guy money? I don’t want you to forget.”

“The Ratoncito Pérez!” Carolina jumped to her feet and pulled an envelope from her bottom drawer. She took out a ten-dollar bill, put back the envelope, and beckoned to Gabriela to follow. “He sleeps like a rock,” Carolina whispered. Together, she and Gabriela tiptoed into Daniel’s room, and Carolina slithered under the bed and placed the ten dollars underneath the Ratoncito Pérez.

Carolina shut the door behind her carefully, and she and Gabriela were once more alone in the dark hallway.

“Bedtime, I guess,” Gabriela whispered. Then she hugged Carolina, quickly, with a light pat on the back. “Night, cuz.”