Page 45 of Something in Between

We’re lying on the bed, on top of the covers, and I’m looking up at him while he leans on an elbow, gazing down at me.

“I like that,” he says. “We’re waking up to each other.” He rubs my cheek. “Your skin is so soft.”

“Yours is so stubbly,” I tease, when I put a hand on his.

I like that we’re comfortable around each other. I thought I’d feel self-conscious with a boy, nervous, worried that I wouldn’t know how to kiss correctly, or that I was doing something wrong. But there’s none of that. I’ve been with him for only two days, but I feel closer to him than to anyone.

All night, we make out, order room service, talk, and make out again. I don’t ever want to stop kissing him. I wish I could stay with him until morning, but I can’t. I have an early flight.

“When am I going to see you again?” he asks, when we get to my door, yawning. His hair is rumpled and his shirt is untucked, but he’s as gorgeous as ever, if not more.

“Um, we both live in LA,” I say, giving him one last embrace.

“This weekend, then,” he says, kissing my forehead.

“Text me,” I say.

He reaches for his phone in his jeans pocket. He punches in a message and sends it. My phone buzzes in my handbag and I remove it to read what he’d sent.

It reads,Hi it’s Royce, your boyfriend. Let’s hang out this weekend.

I can’t help but smile. I guess I have a boyfriend now.

15

An ocean could not explain the distance we have traveled.

—JONATHAN SAFRAN FOER,EXTREMELY LOUD AND INCREDIBLY CLOSE

IT’S NOON WHENDad picks me up from LAX in our old Toyota Camry. I’m a little tired from the flight, but I feel a huge surge of warmth when I see my old dad in his trusty Member’s Only jacket (that Mom still buys at Costco), a huge smile on his leathered face.

“Anak.We missed you,” he says, giving me a big hug before putting my bags in the trunk. “How was D.C.?”

“Missed you too, Daddy. It was amazing.” I tell him all about the receptions, and the fancy people I met, and how the president complimented me on my essay.

Dad listens quietly and nods, and I can tell he also feels bad that this weekend is all I’m ever going to get from being a National Scholar. When his phone rings he picks it up, and soon he’s deep into a discussion with Tito Charlie about a new kind of karaoke machine he’s thinking of buying.

While he discusses all the new bells and whistles of this fantastic machine, I stare at the palm trees blurring by the window. I wonder when Royce is getting back into town. I’m still buzzing from the high of being with him, but I’m also thinking about the research I did on the plane (thank you, free Wi-Fi) about the upcoming vote on the immigration reform bill, college tuition, and finding a path to citizenship. Up until now, I’d been discouraged by what I’d discovered, but my talk with the president really moved me. I can’t give up. If I don’t keep trying to change our situation, who will?

At the airport, when Suzanne dropped me off, I’d confessed that I wasn’t going to be able to accept the scholarship. When she asked me why, I told her things were complicated and left it at that. She said she was sorry about it, but she understood, and if the situation changed to let her know. I still have until the spring to turn in the form and accept the tuition award.

I told her it was unlikely the situation would change that quickly, it would take a miracle if it did. For now I put it out of my mind, because as soon as Dad pulls into the driveway, I catch a glimpse of Mom’s garden and realize how much I missed home. And now home means Royce too. He’s local.

“What’s that smile for?” says Dad.

“Nothing,” I say.

“Hmm. Fine don’t talk to your dad,” says Dad.

“What! You were the one who practically didn’t talk to me the entire ride home! You were obsessed with your new karaoke machine!”

“It’s a good one. Samsung. Five thousand songs.”

Dad cracks me up. “Where’s Mom?” I ask.

He frowns. “She doesn’t feel well.” I know this means Mom’s still depressed about losing her job.

“Mommy?” I yell. “Where are you?”

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