Page 28 of Something in Between

“To the Honorable James Macgregor, Ambassador to Switzerland.”

“To Eugenia Rosenberg, editor in chief of theWashington Post.”

My head is swimming and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. When it’s finally time for dinner and speeches, we go to look for our table, which is right in front. The head of the National Scholar Foundation speaks first and introduces the top ten scholars. They each give a short speech about their talents and ambitions, many of them in the scientific and technological arenas. In between, Suzanne engages us all with questions, but I can’t concentrate. The whole night is overwhelming, almost unreal to me. Then I cut into the chicken, which is rubbery and hard, and I fall back down to earth for a moment. Dad always says we eat better at home than most people do in restaurants, and he’s totally right.

Simon and Richard chat excitedly at our table. The other honorees seated with us include three girls who I find out are my elusive roommates. There’s Mallory Lynch, a preppie redhead, and Nina Chandra, a gorgeous Indian girl with a hilarious sense of humor. They’re both from Maryland. Then there’s Carrie Mayberry. She’s a classic all-American beauty with thick sandy-blond hair and cornflower-blue eyes who happens to be a Junior Olympics gymnast, a world-class sailor, and has already landed an internship with theNew York Timesand is a total shoo-in to Columbia, her first choice.

Carrie seems to be the leader of the three girls. Every topic of conversation revolves around what she thinks or whom she knows. Carrie is from D.C., but all three girls know each other because Nina and Carrie go to a boarding school together and Mallory plays on Nina’s water polo club team. All of their parents seem to be involved in politics somehow.

The girls are totally ignoring Richard and Simon, which doesn’t matter because the boys don’t even notice, they’re so engrossed in a super nerdy discussion about binary numbers.

“Are you excited to go to Columbia?” I ask Carrie, trying to make conversation. “Do you like New York?”

She crosses her arms. “Do IlikeNew York? The city isn’t the kind of place that you like or dislike. New York is bigger than any single person. It’s the only place to live really.”

“Oh,” I say. “I guess that’s how Manila used to feel to me...that it’s more than a city.”

Carrie doesn’t respond, and Mallory politely picks up the conversation. “So you’re from the Philippines? Did you grow up there?”

“My parents were born there,” I say. “I grew up in LA.”

Both are technically true.

Nina leans forward. “Where in LA?”

“Uh, Chatsworth,” I admit.

“Where’s that?” asks Mallory.

“It’s in the San Fernando Valley,” I tell her.

“That’snotLA,” Carrie cuts in with a laugh.

“Yes, it’s the Valley,” I say coolly. “And the Valley is still part of Los Angeles, last I checked. Everyone thinks LA is just Beverly Hills and West Hollywood, but it’s much larger and more diverse than that. Besides, we have the best soup dumplings in the Valley. Better than New York’s Chinatown, according to the Michelin guide.”

She yawns.

Snobs are the worst. Especially elite snobs like her, who think they’re so sophisticated when really, they’re closed-minded. They live in their fancy bubble and think that’s all there is to life. I turn away, but she’s not done with me yet.

“So, Jasmine, since your parents are immigrants, what do you think of that new immigration bill that passed in the Senate last week and was just introduced in the House? I normally don’t follow those things, but I wanted to know who I’d be talking to at tonight’s reception.”

I must have a confused expression on my face, because Nina jumps in to explain the situation to me. “The congressman who’s the lead opponent against the bill is speaking tonight. Some people think he could be president in a few election cycles.”

Oh, wonderful, a president who hates immigrants.

“What’s the bill about again?” Mallory asks. She seems genuinely interested.

“I think it’s about giving out citizenship to a bunch of people who have to pay a $500 fine for sneaking into the country in the past. It’s basically just a slap on the hand if you’ve lived here for a long time,” Nina says. “But I guess they have to do something for these people.”

“Personally, I think that whole argument about immigrants being productive members of American society is pretty weak,” Carrie says. “Anyone who entered the United States without proper documentation is technically a criminal. They aren’tlaw-abidingpeople. Obviously.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, raising my voice a little. “Playing by the rules isn’t always about what’s right. There have been plenty of laws that weren’t right. Why should someone be law-abiding when the laws are so stacked against them that the system makes it nearly impossible to follow those laws? Ever heard of Rosa Parks?”

No one says anything. Mallory and Nina sit back in their chairs, looking uncomfortable, but Carrie studies me with a calculating expression. I look down at my plate, relieved as the murmur of conversation throughout the room turns into a hush.

My hands are shaking so hard after my outburst at the table that I almost knock my water over and don’t hear the introduction of the evening’s keynote speaker. It’s a politician who looks familiar, and he takes the podium to speak briefly. He congratulates us and says we exemplify the best of America, and we show that all Americans need an education before they can contribute at the higher levels of citizenship. He says we are model citizens from hardworking families who value a degree of being American that many have lost focus on. He calls us the heroes of our generation—the most diverse generation.

I don’t feel like a hero at all. Sure, I feel hopeful, that somehow I’m going to find my way through this mess. At the same time, I think of Mom and Dad and how they should be here instead of me. They both deserve this more, since they worked so hard to put me here. Millie too. If it wasn’t for her encouragement, I don’t think I’d be here either.

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