Page 62 of Something in Between

“And if you decide you don’t want to see me anymore I’ll leave you alone, don’t worry,” he says, his voice so low I have to strain to hear him.

I don’t want him to leave me alone, I don’t want to break up, and I want to tell him that this is all a mistake, I don’t want him to go, I don’t want it to be over. But the words don’t come, and somehow I nod my head.

“Good luck at Regionals.” He turns away then, and I watch him leave, his shoulders slumped, hands jammed in his pockets, and it feels like I’ve broken his heart instead of the other way around. Maybe it is.

Becoming Illegal

Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:

I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

—EMMA LAZARUS’S POEM,

INSCRIBED ON THE STATUE OF LIBERTY

19

If you find someone you love in your life, then hang on to that love.

—PRINCESS DIANA

A FEW DAYS LATER, the other girls are singing and shouting cheers on the bus to the Anaheim Convention Center. We’re on our way to compete in the Regional competition, which is right before Christmas. I keep thinking about Royce, checking my phone, hoping he’ll text me, though I know he won’t. Why do I need him to give in first? I just do.

There’s plenty of room, so we’re all spread out on the bus. Kayla leans over the back of my seat. “Are you nervous?”

I take my headphones out of my ears. “A little, I guess.”

“I know you’re upset about Royce,” she says. I told her what happened, how I asked him for space.

I look at Kayla like I’m about to roll my eyes at her. “No I’m not,” I say. “Who’s Royce?”

“You’re a terrible liar, Jas. You always have been,” Kayla laughs. She gets up and moves into the seat next to me, putting her head on my shoulder. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice that you’ve given me more than once this year. So listen up.”

“All right,” I say. “I’m listening.”

“Cheer is a mental game just as much as a physical one. You have to clear your mind. Focus on the team. Concentrate on your body,” Kayla says.

I look down at my phone again. “I know. That’s what I say all the time.”

“Well, you’re obviously not taking your own advice right now. You’re all torn up about him. Come on, talk to me. You have to get it out before the competition.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. This isn’t about Royce.” But she knows me too well and she’s right, I am a terrible liar. I hate that Royce and I aren’t talking, even though I’m the reason we’re not.

“Your family, then? What’s going on with the immigration stuff?”

“I really, really don’t want to talk about that right now—that’s the last thing I want to think about before the competition.” I need to put it out of my head, but I’m nervous and panicky and she can tell. Looking behind my seat, I see that the girls nearby are watching us, probably wondering what’s going on. “I’m not ready for the whole squad to know.”

Kayla throws up her hands. “Fine.Fine.Don’t say I didn’t try to help...”

She goes to the back of the bus to hang out with some of the other girls.

I need to stop thinking about Royce and my own situation and focus on our performance. I put my headphones back in and try to psych myself up and prepare, to visualize nailing every stunt, hitting every landing. But my mind won’t clear, and I’m edgy and distracted.

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