Page 115 of Something in Between

Mom shifts some papers around. “Maybe he’s afraid to tell us the truth.”

I try to play the optimist. “Or maybe he just doesn’t know. Don’t give up,” I say. “Please, Dad, don’t give up.”

We have our first showing of the house this weekend. I keep trying not to think about it, but I have to prepare for the reality that I really might have to leave this country.

* * *

Meanwhile, Millie’s getting better again. She’s breathing a little easier. They let her go home on one condition: she has to have an oxygen mask at all times. She doesn’t seem to mind too much.

Millie must be really bored, though, because she asks me to visit multiple times a week. I’m sitting on the foot of her bed when I ask her about her health. I’m still worried about her.

“Will you have to go back to the hospital?”

“I hope not,” she says. “No guarantees. Any headway on your case?”

“Haven’t heard anything,” I say. “But... I should be hearing any day now from the colleges I applied to. I really want to get into Stanford. But even if I get in, who knows if I’ll be able to go. It’s like the pressure of everything is about to crush me. I feel like the moon is only in the sky because I’m holding it up. And I can’t much longer.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to,” she says. “Just a little longer. Take comfort, Jasmine. Sometimes in the darkest times, a little light shines through.”

* * *

I don’t really feel like being social, but I’m hanging out at Lo’s after visiting Millie because I promised Kayla this favor. All I can think about is our house slipping into the hands of some other American family when it should belong to us. I guess that’s the American dream for you. Your home sold to someone else. Your job filled by another. Your dreams dissipating in a cloud of smoke.

Lo’s sitting on her couch, kicking her red Converses off onto the floor. “So, Jas, you’re coming to the party on Friday, yeah?”

I think of the time I was at one of Lo’s parties and we thought we were being busted by the cops. What does it matter now? I’m getting deported anyway. I tell her that of course I’ll be there with Royce.

Next to her, Julian strings his acoustic guitar. “Yeah,” he says. “You gotta see us one more time.”

“I’m not backing out,” I say, though the feeling of being deported is almost a constant pain in my stomach. “I’ll be there.”

My friends know all about thePoliticoscandal and that Royce’s dad was trying to help us but when the news leaked, he couldn’t do anything anymore.

“How can you stay with your boyfriend after that?” asks Lo.

Julian turns one of the tuning knobs too far so that his string snaps and hits his fingers. He yelps, then curses. Lo doesn’t even bother to look at him, she’s so used to it.

“It’s not Royce’s fault,” I say. “Although it is a little awkward with his parents right now.”

“Just promise you’ll be at my party,” Lo says.

“I will. Promise. But there was this thing I was wondering about.”

“What?” Lo asks.

“It’ll be kind of weird, but I have to ask. Can Kayla come?”

“Her?” Lo asks. “I don’t know about that—it’s not like I don’t like her. Don’t get me wrong. But Dylan’s my friend. I don’t want to put him in that kind of situation.”

“Now just wait a minute,” Julian says. “Shouldn’t it be up to Dylan?”

“I guess so,” Lo says, backing down.

“I’ll talk to him.” Julian sets his guitar down. “He’s in the backyard. Be right back.”

After Julian walks out of the room, I ask Lo, “How are things going with you guys? You seem inseparable. I don’t think there’s ever a time I come over that he’s not hanging out with you.”

“We’re going to move in together after graduation,” she says. “Or maybe I can convince him to explore with me. Travel the world. Just live. You ever thought about that? Just experiencing as much as you can?”

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