Page 64 of Something in Between

I told Royce I needed time to figure out my own life, but all I can do is think of him in Aspen. He’s probably at some ski resort with those beautiful European girls who know how to snowboard down giant mountains. He probably won’t be lonely for long.

He hasn’t texted or called, but maybe that’s because he’s keeping his promise. It’s still early during winter break, and I’m hoping he’ll break down and text me. I’m stubborn. I don’t want to be the one to break down first. So I help Mom, babysit my brothers, and decorate the house for Christmas. Kayla tries to cheer me up, and we spend afternoons baking cookies and shopping for presents.

I miss him though. I miss telling him about my life and hearing about his.

Instead, I fill out my Stanford application, and I send them the same essay I wrote for the National Scholarship but tweaked a little to answer their question. Maybe I’m delusional, but I want to hold on to some kind of hope that the future I want is still out there and within reach. I can’t lose my focus like I did at Regionals. I have to stay in the game.

Mom’s started working for Millie, and while she was nervous at first, she’s much more confident now. They have her working data entry, and she practices her typing skills when she’s not at the office. At least we’re not as worried about money anymore.

* * *

I turn eighteen in the middle of Christmas break. Both Royce and I have birthdays within a week of each other, and now we won’t be celebrating together like we’d planned. I end up deciding to just have a quiet birthday celebration with my family.

I should have known I wouldn’t get away with that. The night before my actual birthday, Kayla and the team surprise me and take me out to CPK, where we get large barbecue pizzas and Chinese chicken salads. They put candles on the molten chocolate cake and sing “Happy Birthday” really loudly. It’s a fun night, and I’m glad I have my friends. For a while, I’m able to forget my problems.

At home on the day, Mom decorates the house with party favors in silver and white, my favorite colors, and Dad lets me blast my favorite music over the TV’s sound system. I sit next to Lola Cherry at the kitchen table, watching Mom put the finishing touches on lunch. I’ve specially requestedlumpiaand pancit. It’s my birthday, and I figure I can eat what I want.

“What did you get me for my birthday?” I ask Lola Cherry.

“Same as last year,” Lola says like she’s bored.

“You’re going to hit my brothers with your cane?”

“No. Though they need it.”

“Hey!” Danny yells. “I didn’t do anything!”

Lola whacks him on the tush with her cane faster than a bolt from the blue. “Don’t yell at your Lola,” she says.

“I wasn’t.” Danny rubs his rear, then steps into the safe zone, one cane’s length away. I laugh, feeling warm all over.

“Where’s your brother?” she asks.

“Why?” Danny says.

“Because he needs one now. It should always be even.”

“Isko!” Danny yells in mad laughter.

I laugh as I go answer the door. It’s Millie. She hugs me and hands me a present. “Happy birthday,” she says. “It’s just a little something.”

I open the gift to find a leather-bound picture album with gold filigree. “It’s gorgeous—thank you so much! Come meet some of my family.”

I take her elbow and lead her into the kitchen to meet Lola, but there’s no introduction needed. It’s as if they’re continuing a conversation from another life. How do old women do this? Put them into a room, and they’re like sisters.

“I can’t believe these knuckleheads,” Lola says to her. “They’re just like my grandchildren in Manila. Always causing trouble.” Then she looks at me, though my brothers are laughing and dancing just out of cane’s reach. “Especially this one.”

“What didIdo?” I laugh.

“I understand.” Millie sits down. “Who keeps this younger generation in line if not us? I always keep something close, just to threaten them.”

My brothers laugh. They’re still dancing out of Lola’s reach.

“Here,” Lola starts to hand her cane to Millie, though we all know she’s pretending.

Millie is clearly an expert at this and holds out her hand as if about to take Lola’s cane. “You want me to take a swat at ’em?”

“My hand’s getting tired,” Lola says, and just like that both women are laughing hysterically.

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