Page 123 of Something in Between

“That’s why,” I say. “I have three blocks to make it to the safe zone. Any false move, as you can see, will be a catastrophe to this leather interior, which will then be a catastrophe to my life. Look at this car. If anything happens to it, I’m dead meat.”

The officer takes a closer look. “You know, kids, I could take the two of you in for underage drinking.”

“Yes, sir,” Kayla and Royce say.

I can’t imagine what Mr. and Mrs. Blakely would do when they found out theirgoodson was in the drunk tank for the night. Kayla’s parents wouldn’t be too happy either, and mine would skin me alive just for being an accessory.

“You know you’re lucky to have a friend like her,” the officer says, motioning to me. He holds up a finger. “You get one shot at life. Just one. And when you mess up, you need to think, ‘Am I taking advantage of my friends for my own selfish pleasure?’”

I can’t believe he’s not asking for my license or registration.

Royce is looking especially pale again. “Yes, Officer,” he gurgles.

“Looks like you need to go,” the officer says. “He’s not looking so good. Get straight home. And for goodness’ sakes, drive safely. This is a nice car.”

“Yes, sir,” I say. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

The officer shakes his head and gets back in his car and drives away. Finally, I pull away from the curb.

Royce puts a comforting hand on my leg. “I’m sorry, Jas. I wasn’t thinking.”

I shake my head. I’m still so scared that my heart is thumping. What does it matter anyway? We’re being deported.

“It won’t happen again,” he says. “I promise.”

It can’t. It’s too scary. I can’t take any more risks like this. I don’t think my heart can take it.

42

For unlike my mother, I did not believe I could be anything I wanted to be. I could only be me.

—AMY TAN,THE JOY LUCK CLUB

IT’S FINALLY APRIL1. D-Day. Acceptance day, when all the colleges send emails telling us our fates. I’ve been admitted to two colleges so far: Northwestern and Pomona. But neither can offer me financial aid because of my legal status. So every time I click on an email and read that I’ve been accepted into a school, I don’t jump around joyously, since not one of them has determined that I’m eligible for any kind of tuition assistance.

That doesn’t mean I don’t feel some kind of momentary exhilaration. I feel proud of myself for getting this far. But it already feels like I’m missing out, like these acceptances aren’t meant for me, but for someone else worthy of attending those colleges. Some other person with my name.

I’m starting to feel like I’m not the real Jasmine de los Santos. I’m her doppelgänger. The one who isn’t American, the one who didn’t become a National Scholar.

Then I see the one I’ve been waiting for. The one I want. An email from Stanford’s Admissions office. This is heavy. Even more important to me than the National Scholarship letter.

I click on the email and it opens.

Oh my God.

I don’t believe it. “I got into Stanford!” I yell. The letter says they will be sending financial aid information in the next mailing, which brings me a crazy burst of hope, but who knows what that means exactly. Maybe they’re just sending me the forms to fill out. The letter doesn’t mention that I’ve been awarded any financial aid.

Mom has been packing boxes. She gives me a sad sort of hug and is very subdued in her response. “I’m very proud of you. I only wish I could say that you would definitely be able to go in the fall.”

“If we could only stay... This would be a great opportunity. Best of all of them.”And Royce is going to Stanford too, I can’t help but think. We could be together like we’ve been talking about.

“Let me see that,” Dad says. He’s just come in to grab another box. He’s been stacking them in the garage.

I show him the letter, waiting while he reads for himself.

Dear Jasmine:

I take great pleasure in offering you admission to Stanford University. Congratulations! We know that you will bring something original and extraordinary to the intellectual community of our campus. We look forward to having you as a part of Stanford. We hope you accept!

---