Page 100 of Something in Between

I’m instantly ashamed. What do they call the feeling? Belittled? To be made small? No wonder the bailiff is here.

“Your Honor,” Mr. Alvarado says. “Jasmine de los Santos has shown great academic promise. You can’t ignore her remarkable achievements as a scholar.”

“If that’s so, why didn’t you file for her separately? She’s eighteen isn’t she?” The judge smirks.

Filing for myself was a possibility that our lawyer proposed, but I rejected it. I couldn’t stay in America by myself. Either we all leave or we all stay.

But right now I feel like I’m failing my family. Like everything I’ve done hasn’t been good enough. If I was the prize that Mom and Dad have been polishing, then I’ve suddenly become tarnished. Was I never good enough to begin with? What kind of people does America want—people who are famous or happen to have friends in high places? Or people who work hard and love their country? I want to run out of the room and never come back. They’ll have to find me to deport me, because I’ll have vanished.

“The de los Santos family would like to remain in the country together and not be separated,” Mr. Alvarado explains.

The judge seems unmoved.

The man from the government seems like he’s chuckling inside.

I feel ill.

Judge Reynolds surveys each of us before resting his eyes on Mr. Alvarado. “You should know that simply working in America doesn’t give anyone the right to stay in America, no matter how excellent reports are.” The judge sets down the papers. “I am afraid, Mr. Alvarado, there’s just not enough credible testimony here. After carefully reviewing the evidence, I rule that the de los Santos family are aliens in the United States of America. I also rule in favor of deportation.”

32

The Guide says there is an art to flying...or rather a knack. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself to the ground and miss.

—DOUGLAS ADAMS

“WHAT DID Itell you about the lawyer?” Dad says as we all pile into the car. He’s the only one talking. Mom probably can’t say anything because she’ll break down in tears.

“Did you hear how he and the judge talked?” Dad asks himself. “They were golf buddies. I knew it soon as I walked into his office. Alvarado didn’t eventry...”

“It wasn’t his fault,” I say.

Dad isn’t finished yet. “And who was that other man in the room? A lawyer? Or a hit man? Do we have to watch our backs now until we board the plane?”

Mom wipes her eyes. I’m crying too. Everything I’ve known is gone. Everything. This life has been an illusion. Something I thought I knew. I thought I understood how life works. School. Cheer. Boys. Family. Life. Right? No. Life gets pulled out from under you like some kind of slow death. I can’t even think about Royce and I being separated from each other. Not now. Not after everything we’ve been through.

That’s really what this is. Torture. I know I belong here, but the government doesn’t think I do. I may look like I belong in the Philippines, but they’ll know I’m a fraud too. I can’t even speak Tagalog or Ilocano. Neither country will want me.

“I don’t understand,” says Danny. His bruises are barely visible now. “Do we have to leave right now? Where are we going? We haven’t packed our games.”

“I don’t know,” I say to him. “We haven’t talked about it.”

Dad pulls into traffic. “We’ll figure it out. We have family all over the Philippines. Someone will know of a place we can buy or rent. And there are bus driver jobs everywhere. I have a lot of experience. You’ll have a good education there. The colleges are good. You boys will like the schools.”

“We’ll get beat up for talking American,” Isko cries. “I don’t want to get beat up like Danny.”

“Shut up,” Danny says. “They like Americans over there. And when they find out cheerleaders kiss me, I’ll be the coolest kid at school.”

“But no cheerleaders kissed me,” Isko cries. “They’ll pick on me and cover me with spiders!”

“Will you boys quit?” Dad says.

Mom’s still not saying a word. I worry about her. I know that she’ll feel guilty for everything. Not telling me about our expired visas. Pushing to have a deportation hearing. Giving me false hope for college. America turns out to be a hopeless, wasted dream. I’m not a National Scholar, because I’m not anational.

It’s not just my future that I’ve lost. My past and present are about to get ripped away too. I’ll have to completely start over again.

“They’re just scared we might have to leave right away,” Mom says.

“It will be a few months before we have to go,” Dad says to the boys. “Our useless lawyer negotiated that we don’t have to leave until Jasmine graduates high school.” He turns to Mom. “I’m telling you, she’ll get into a top university in Manila, maybe even Ateneo. And you boys will really like it over there.”

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