Page 81 of Something in Between

Lo smiles, Julian tips his beer. Dylan, Kayla and the others wave. Someone hands both the Blakely boys a beer.

I motion Royce over to my chair and he sits down so that I can perch on his lap like the other girls are doing. He leans in close to whisper in my ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bring Mason, but he wouldn’t leave me alone and I didn’t want to miss the chance to see you.”

I turn and give him a half smile. “It’s all right.”

He looks relieved. We haven’t seen each other as much this week in comparison to the weeks before. Both of us do still have to focus on school. When we’re together, he’s been quiet lately. I know he’s worried about the deportation trial, and I am too. But whenever he brings it up, I don’t want to talk about it, and it makes him frustrated. He keeps offering to help, but it’s my family’s problem—my problem—not his.

Mason is soon engrossed in a conversation with Kayla and Dylan about something, and they all laugh. I think maybe for once he might actually be an okay guy.

Turns out I’m wrong.

After about an hour or so, Mason has drunk so many bottles of beer—and finished his own flask of whiskey—that he’s stumbling around the backyard. He’s talking about the crazy parties he goes to at USC and how much money he’s going to make when he sets up his own hedge fund.

I lean over to Royce and whisper in his ear. “I’m glad you came, but maybe you should take Mason home. He’s had too much to drink...”

But the younger kids, Eric and Brian, think Mason is hilarious and practically hero-worship him. They keep asking him questions about college, but in between answers that crack them up, Mason seems to be drunkenly interested in Kayla, which is obviously getting on Dylan’s nerves. He tolerates the flirting until Mason puts his hand on Kayla’s thigh. She freezes and looks at Dylan, not knowing what to do or say.

“Hey, man,” Dylan says to Mason. “Things are wrapping up here. I think it’s time to go home.”

Apparently, I’m not the only one who wants him to leave.

“Yeah,” I say, scooting off Royce’s lap reluctantly. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you guys out.”

But of course it’s not that easy.

Mason takes his hand off Kayla and sneers at me. “Oh, you’re still here? Little Miss National Scholar? Haven’t been sent back to your island yet?”

“What island?” Brian asks, as I’m trying to catch my breath.

“Treasure Island,” Mason laughs. “Wherever she’s from, it’s not America.”

“Shut up, Mason. Don’t mind him. He’s drunk and I’m taking him home,” Royce says. He looks at me apologetically, then gets up and walks over to Mason, grabbing his arm.I’m sorry, he mouths.

I nod. It’s okay. I can handle his douche-bag brother. But I’m bummed, because I’d hoped Royce and I could have some time alone tonight, and that’s not happening now. I also try not to be annoyed that he told Mason about my legal status. But I guess they are family.

“Aw, come on,” Eric and Brian whine. “Mason’s funny. Let him stay.”

Lo glares at them. Julian seems like he’s about to help her kick everyone out of the house. Kayla has a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face.

Mason violently shakes Royce off. “Fine. Let’s go. Why am I hanging out with a bunch of stupid high schoolers in the middle of nowhere anyway?”

Royce shoots me an intense look full of everything he can’t say.

Strangely, even though Mason was awful, I’m glad everyone knows about me now. Royce, Millie and Kayla are right, I need to let people know what’s eating at me, what’s happening to my family. I can’t shoulder this alone. There are so many haters out there. I need to start garnering support from the people who do care about me.

25

Feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to fly?

—FRIDA KAHLO

MRS. GARCIA’S OFFICEis freezing. She’s wearing a sweater, and I’ve already cooled down from exercising during PE. I silently count the goose bumps along my arms. My skin is a pincushion.

“Why do you need to see me, Jasmine?” Mrs. Garcia asks. “Have you already heard back from colleges? It’s pretty soon if you applied for early admission.”

“I didn’t apply early. I’m going through some things,” I say. “But, um, you said last time that I could talk to you if I needed to?” I want to kick myself for being so vague.

“Of course. What’s on your mind?”

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