Page 16 of Something in Between

“Are you texting your mom?”

“For real?” Kayla asks. “Of course not.”

She extends her forearm, showing me Dylan’s number next to a silly smiley face scribbled on her skin. I guess boys are never really as grown-up as they might seem. We start giggling a little, then catch ourselves.

The knocking finally subsides and Lo returns to the kitchen. “Where’s Julian? It’s not even the cops. Just one of my cranky neighbors. I doubt they’ll actually send police out here for a stupid noise complaint.”

I exhale. “Oh man, everyone must have assumed...”

“That the cops were here. Yeah, I know,” Lo says, finishing my sentence. I expect Lo to get mad that her boyfriend ditched her, but she just looks disappointed. “It’s ruined anyway. No one’s coming back.”

“That’s not true,” I say, even though she’s right, the party’s over.

“Thanks for coming, Jas. I’m sorry it went down this way.”

I give her a hug. “Thanks, Lo. We can help you clean...”

Lo waves me off. “That’s okay. My parents won’t be back until the end of the weekend. Do you guys have a ride home?”

Kayla looks down at her phone. “I texted Dylan. He’s going to drop us off at my place.”

“That was fast,” Lo says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” says Kayla.

Lo shrugs.

Kayla frowns.

Sensing tension building between them, I try to end the conversation. “We don’t want to keep you up. Let’s wait outside, Kayla.”

“He’s outside anyway,” Kayla says.

Lo crosses her arms. “Is Julian with him?”

“How should I know?” Kayla asks, pushing past Lo toward the front door. I give Lo a little wave to say I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s up between her and Kayla. I didn’t think Lo was the territorial type.

As I follow Kayla outside, Dylan pulls up in a beat-up, rusted-out Camaro. “How are you going to get your car back?” I ask her.

“He’ll pick us up in the morning. Then I’ll take you back home.”

“Isn’t your mom going to notice the car’s gone?”

“Probably not. Since Dad left, Mom doesn’t really care what I do. She doesn’t have the same expectations of me that your parents do for you, Jasmine.”

“Yes, she does,” I tell her. “Stop talking like that.” I guess sometimes I am lucky—my parents can be pains about rules and they’re way too strict, but at least they’ve always pushed me to do well.

When we walk up, Dylan gets out and puts his arm around Kayla, leading her to the passenger side. I follow behind them, thinking over what Kayla said about expectations.

Until now, I thought everything I did—the grades, student council, cheer—was because my parents expected me to do it. Watching Kayla flirt with Dylan in the front seat, I realize that’s not quite the truth.

I did all those thingsfor me. I did them becauseIlove them. Because they make me who I am. Ilikestudying, I like doing well in school. Academics have always been easy for me, and I like pushing myself and topping everyone else. I’m super competitive and I always have to win. Whether I get to go to D.C. or not, Iama National Scholar.

I’m not going to lower my expectations of myself because the law and some politicians say I don’t belong. I deserve that scholarship. The United States Department of Education thinks so too.

I’m going to figure out a way to go to Washington, D.C. The president will be expecting me.

7

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