Something in Between (34 page)

48

All happy families are alike.

—LEO TOLSTOY,
ANNA KARENINA

ROYCE COMES OVER LATER.
We still haven't had a real chance to talk since everything that happened at the courthouse and at Kayla's house, several weeks ago. I know that his family just sent Mason to rehab in Utah. They all went, and Royce just got back from the airport.

He's tired and his eyes are red-rimmed, but from lack of sleep or crying I don't know. It upsets me though. I hate when he's sad, and I'm about to make him sadder.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. He's going to be there for three months, Dad sprang for the full program. Mason's already joking that he's transferred to Circa Lodge instead of Columbia,” he says, naming one of the most expensive rehabilitation centers in the country.

We laugh together.

“Hey,” I say gently. “I got a grant to go to Stanford.”

“That's awesome. Of course you did—you're amazing.” His eyes are shining.

“If only the judge granted our temporary visas like he told your dad he would. I know your dad's office is working on following up but we haven't heard anything,” I say. “If only we could stay.”

He nods. “If only.”

“I have to return this to you,” I say, and remove the ring from my pocket. It seems wrong to keep wearing it. “I want you to know that you made me the happiest person in the world when you asked me to marry you.”

He nods again. He takes the ring and puts it away. His lips are trembling and I can't stand it.

I put a hand on his face, feel the stubble there. “I will marry you one day, Royce Blakely. I promise.”

He puts a hand over my hand and smiles, sunshine through the rain. “You're going to keep that promise.”

* * *

A few days later, at home, we're all preparing for graduation. Dad buys my cap and gown and I try it on in the living room. It feels like everything is ending so quickly and I don't know where I'm going to go next.

“I have to iron it,” I say.

“I don't know,” Dad jokes. “It looks good all wrinkled.”

“We'll iron it,” Mom says.

“What are you going to wear underneath it?” Lola Cherry says. Before I can answer, Lola is already talking again. “I remember this one girl. Lilibeth Bautista. She didn't wear anything. She was painted with words. She let all her favorite boys write their name in yellow paint anywhere they wanted.”

I burst out laughing. Mom's horrified. “My daughter is
not
going to do that. Stop putting images inside her head, Lola Cherry.” She turns to me, looking me up and down. “You hear me? No boys are painting your treasure.”

“Why not?” Lola says. “Nobody will know except for Jasmine.”

“I don't want to see Royce's name anywhere either. You hear me?” my mom says.

I start laughing even harder at that. “No way!” Then I imagine what Royce would think if he did see his name written on my skin under my gown. It could be pretty sexy, put a smile back on his face.
Thanks, Lola Cherry
.

Dad doesn't say anything until now. He pouts. “My graduation was never that exciting...”

Lola starts laughing. “See? Your father understands.”

“Anyway, enough about that. I need a new dress.”

“All right. But no funny business,” Dad says. “Mom will take you to buy one this week.”

I give him a big hug, because no matter what, no matter how old I get, I'm still Daddy's favorite.

Suddenly, Lola whacks Dad in the leg with her cane.

He yelps and curses in Ilocano. “What was that for?”

“I want your attention,” she says.

“You could have just asked!” he says, rubbing his leg.

“I have an idea,” she says.

Dad looks very agitated. “I can see that. More like I can
feel
it.”

Mom and I giggle. I hope I get to do whatever I want when I'm older just because I can get away with it.

“That's why you hit me?” Dad says. “No.”

Lola swings her cane again.

This time Dad gets up. “I'm going to take that from you. It's not a weapon.”

“I know,” Lola says. “It's an attention getter. Jasmine says that Royce's dad called that judge and the visas were granted.”

“Yeah, we heard that before,” says Dad.

“Call him again. You can't just sit around and wait! You need to remind people to do their jobs!”

“We have been calling, but there's no news.”

“Call him again! Call until there is news.”

“She's right,” I say. “Let's keep calling.”

“Fine,” says Dad. “What can it hurt?”

* * *

A few days later, we get a message back from Mr. Alvarado telling us to show up at his office at 1:00 p.m. We're ten minutes early. We're all getting out of our car, wondering why he needs to see us.

“Why are we here?” Isko says.

“I don't know,” Dad says. “Your sister got a message from this snake of a lawyer that requested the entire family arrive. I thought we should have hidden you children in the closet before we left.”

“What? Why?” Isko says.

Dad opens the car door. “This could be the moment they catch you.”

Isko gets out. “Who catches me?”

“ICE,” Dad says.

“Stop trying to scare them,” Mom says.

She gives Dad a sideways look. He goes quiet.

“What's ICE?”

“US Immigration and Customs Enforcement,” I say. “They identify undocumented people and arrest them, even in churches.”

Isko ducks behind me. “They're
here
?”

“Stop it,” Mom says. “Both of you. Jasmine, you know better.”

Dad laughs. “I'm just messing with you. This lawyer probably just wants to say his goodbyes and have us sign a final form.”

“Do we have to sign them too?” Isko asks.

No one answers him.

Mr. Alvarado greets us at the door. “I'm so glad all of you came. Have a seat.”

“Where do we sign our final papers?” Dad asks as we all find chairs. He sits closest to Mr. Alvarado's desk. Mom is next to him. “Let's get this over with.”

Mr. Alvarado sighs. “I'm afraid that's not why you're here, Mr. de los Santos.”

“Don't tell me it's gotten worse? We're planning to leave in two weeks as required,” Dad says. Our house hasn't sold yet but Lola Cherry will wire us the money when it does.

“There's been a development,” Mr. Alvarado says.

“What kind?” Dad says angrily. “We've jumped through every possible hoop we could. What does Uncle Sam want now? Our savings? Do they want us to leave right now?”

Mom puts an arm on Dad's leg to try to calm him.

Mr. Alvarado is holding a pen. He taps it on the desk. “I received a phone call from Judge Reynolds,” he says. Every one of us holds our breath. I feel like I'm at my first cheer competition ever, standing in front of an audience, scared to death.

It feels like the silence lasts forever. Then he says triumphantly, “Judge Reynolds has personally informed me that your deportation has been canceled.”

“Canceled?” Dad says.

Mom grabs Dad with one hand. The other she puts over her mouth. “Oh my God! What changed his mind?”

“If you choose to stay in America,” Mr. Alvarado continues, “your family will be allowed to live under temporary work visas until you get your employment-based immigration visas, which have also just been approved.”

“What?” I say, cheering happily. “I can't believe it! We can stay! I can go to Stanford!”

“We can stay?” Isko says, jumping up.

For a second Danny doesn't move, then he gets a big smile on his face and jumps up with Isko, nearly tackling him.

I'm trying to text Royce,
Your dad did it!!! The judge reversed his decision!!! We don't have to leave!! We can stay! And I'm going to Stanford! With you! Oh my God!!!
I really can't believe it. It feels like a dream.

Royce answers back:
yes!!!!! i knew it!!! YES!!!!

I don't really believe it, and it feels as if this great weight is lifted from my shoulders. I didn't realize how much stress I was carrying until it was gone. I'm so thankful.

Mr. Alvarado tries to talk over our shouting. “If you play your cards right, within a few years your daughter can apply under a different visa that has to do with persons of exceptional ability. She will of course have to obtain an advanced degree. Considering the path she's currently on, I don't foresee any problems with that. In addition, these visas mean you will all be eligible to apply for green cards, and later on, citizenship.”

We're hardly listening. We're all jumping up and down cheering and hugging.

“And actually you do also have to sign some papers,” Mr. Alvarado says.

We're still not listening.

“I told you this lawyer was going to pull through for us!” Dad says.

“I just can't understand how this happened?” Mom cries.

But I know how it happened. I think about Congressman Blakely and the phone call Royce asked him to make after his fight with Mason. Royce did it for me, for his family, for himself. He always offered his help, and I'm glad I finally accepted it.

Mr. Alvarado sits back and shakes his head. He's grinning like we're the most insane people he's ever met, but I don't care what anyone thinks about us. The de los Santos family will always stick together.

49

When the whole world is silent, even one voice becomes powerful.

—MALALA YOUSAFZAI

IT'S JUNE,
the month I thought I'd be dreading because it would mean having to leave America forever. But instead, my future, my glorious future, lies in front of me, as perfect as it was at the beginning of the year. Even more perfect, maybe, because it was even more hard-earned. The sun shines brightly over the hundreds of people packed into the stadium and on the field for my graduation. It's a beautiful Southern California day, with a perfect cloudless sky and a comfortable seventy-five degrees.

A few days before, I'd attended Royce's graduation and watched with pride as he took the top prize in Language Arts. His graduating class was much smaller than mine, and the ceremony was held at the Walt Disney Concert Hall. The girls all wore white dresses underneath their graduation robes, like the bunch of debutantes that they are. Royce spent the whole time texting me from the stage.

royceb: i'm so bored. glad i'm not giving a speech like you.

jasmindls: You look cute up there.

royceb: thanks you look cute from up here too.

Meaning he can see down my cleavage because I'm wearing the red dress I wore to Spago, naughty boy.

* * *

Now I'm sitting up on the stage at my graduation and going over the speech in my head. From where I'm sitting, I can see that the stadium is packed with everyone's family and friends. I can barely make out my parents and brothers near the fifty-yard line. Royce is sitting with them, looking so handsome with his hair slicked back and wearing the tie I bought him with the Philippine flag on one side and the American flag on the other. When my phone buzzes, I remove it from the pocket of my gown as surreptitiously as I can. The ceremony hasn't started yet—I feel safe doing this. It's Royce, of course.

royceb: you look cute up there.

jasmindls: Wait till you see what's under my gown.

royceb:
man, you're killing me.

royceb: my imagination has gone wild.

jasmindls:
Good things come to boys who wait.

royceb: all right, now I'm not going to be able to listen to a word you say.

royceb: good luck, you'll be great.

royceb: who knew public schools could have such cool speeches?

royceb: just kidding.

jasmindls: Yeah, public schools even have teachers! Imagine that!

I try not to laugh as I put away my phone. The ceremony's starting, but I don't pay attention to the opening remarks or anything. I'm still going over my speech, which is different from the one I'd planned to write in November. Very different. Plus, I'm not the only valedictorian up here. I'm sharing the honor with another senior, Amanda Hiller, who's going to MIT for Robotics. If a bad bout of Valley fever hadn't made her grades dip her junior year, I probably wouldn't be standing next to her. After everything that's happened this year, I'm fortunate to be here. I had almost taken it for granted.

Amanda gives her speech, but I can't hear a word she's saying. I keep going over mine in my head, it has to be perfect. It might be my last chance to make a difference in high school.

When Amanda finishes and Principal Lopez begins to introduce me, I feel an irrational desire to jump off the stage and run away. But I square my shoulders and make my way to the podium. After I readjust the microphone I gaze out again. This time I look at the graduates. Hundreds of familiar faces. Not a single graduate is unhappy. Some are obviously bored. Their parents appear far more anxious. They're the ones who, like my parents, really understand how unpredictable the world can be.

I decide impulsively that I have to address that first. “There is so much uncertainty in the world,” I begin. “We graduates often don't see this as young people. Especially today. To us, everything is attainable. We can do anything. Our choices don't matter to us as long as we feel we're moving forward. But our parents, especially mine, they're the ones who really understand that there are obstacles on our path. We all must be prepared for sudden change.” I take a breath. People seem to be listening. Even Kayla, who's sitting in the third row, along with my friends from math group, cheer, even the football players. Now I can begin my actual speech, the one I worked on so hard with Royce these last few bittersweet weeks.

“Dear graduates.” My voice is just above a whisper. I clear my throat and continue a little louder this time. “I want to tell you about hope during these uncertain times of change. Many of you know that not too long ago I found myself in a situation that appeared, especially to me, hopeless. I always thought I was a legal resident of this country, someone on the path to becoming American, but guess what—I wasn't. My family was here illegally. For a while, I believed that I had lost everything. My future, my country. The barriers seemed insurmountable. Deportation loomed like a leviathan.

“We learned about Thomas Hobbes's
Leviathan
in Mr. Maynard's history class. Thank you, Mr. Maynard. We will miss your many references to the latest teen dystopian movies.”

The students chuckle a little. I feel lighter. I can get through this speech.

“Mr. Maynard, like every other teacher, taught us something about ourselves. For each of us, this is a little different. We're all unique creatures. Though maybe some of you are more like monsters.”

I pause while the crowd laughs, especially the parents. Somehow, people are listening. My knees have stopped shaking. My voice sounds more confident.

“I promise I won't give you a history lecture, but I want to quote a few of these bits from history, from
Leviathan
, which was written in 1651, more than a hundred years before our own Declaration of Independence. One of the things Hobbes believed in was a Kingdom of Darkness. He didn't mean Hell though. He was talking about the darkness of ignorance. True knowledge, he thought, was light. Graduates, we must not be ignorant. What you—what
all
of us—have to do in the coming years is to seek the light of true knowledge for the good of society.

“In my case, when I found out that I was going to be deported because I wasn't in America legally, I lost sight of who I was. I thought a piece of paper defined me, that I was a different person, lesser. But throughout this entire year, I've learned that who I was never changed. I let what the law said about me—that I, as a human being, was illegal, that I didn't belong in the place I'd always known as my own home—change my own perception of who I am.

“When I sat down to write this graduation speech, I thought about how these things are supposed to be filled with advice. I thought, ‘Who am I to give my fellow students advice? What will I say?' And I could come up with only one thing.

“No one—not the law, not a college admissions officer, not your friends, not your teachers or parents or any other people, can define who you are. The only person who can do that is you. Even though you can't control the things that happen to you, you
can
control your perspective and your actions. There's never a moment you can't choose who you want to be.

“But we have to take that even further. Life isn't only about figuring out what we need. We need to figure out how to help others too.

“We have to ask ourselves: What can we do to better ourselves and our country? What can we do to be remembered? Who do we want to be?” I ask, echoing Suzanne's words during our trip to Washington, D.C. “Our Constitution has always been a living, breathing document capturing not just one moment of change in time, but an ongoing transformation taking place even today.

“As for me, I was lucky enough to be granted a stay of deportation and a temporary visa that will allow my family to apply for green cards and the chance to be citizens of this great nation. As a citizen, I'll fight those individuals and companies who benefit from the backs of the most disenfranchised among us, who profit from deportations, detaining and imprisoning entire families in overcrowded detention centers within our borders, deliberately destroying the American dreams of millions of people every day.

“I urge you to find your passion. Follow the light of true knowledge. Find what inspires you. Find what makes you passionate, what helps you recognize the sense of justice already burning within your heart. Give voice to the voiceless, help to the helpless, be a haven for those who have no recourse, no resources. Keep fighting—for your own sakes, and for the future of our country. Thank you.”

The applause is deafening and the audience is on their feet, but I don't really see or hear any of it. I'm too busy smiling at my family, at Royce, at Kayla, all my friends and teachers, everyone who has been there for me.

Even though this moment is supposed to be mine, it's bigger than that, bigger than me. It's not just about one undocumented immigrant, but for everyone with a dream and a will to succeed. I love my country, and I won't stop until I count myself among its citizens.