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“Explain,” she repeats like I didn’t understand the first time. “Why did Piolo catch you entering some guy’s car?”

My mind flashes to the sweatshirt-wearing runner from this morning. It was Piolo, and I chose the worst time to run out to Jase’s car.

“Hindi ko alam, Atè.” Because I don’t know how to explain I’m participating in a photography contest behind our parents’ backs. That I needed to present my last photograph to avoid getting disqualified. That this competition has made this summer my favorite one yet.

“You don’t know.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Do you know how worried we were? We even called Nora. She said she wanted to hang out with you in San Francisco. But I knew it was BS when we heard her dad say they’re in L.A. and doesn’t know how she mixed up NorCal and SoCal.”

I feel my stomach heave. Glancing at my phone, I see a never-ending chain of texts and missed calls, the newest being from Nora.

Nora: SHIT EM MY DAD’S A BIG MOUTH

Nora: EM ANSWER YOUR CALLS

Nora: AND YOUR TEXTS

Nora: Had to tell them. Forgot how scary your sis is when she’s mad. I’m so sorry girl :/ It’s my fault

Nora: Grounded for the next week. Mom took my phone :/

A lump clogs my throat. It’s not Nora’s fault. You don’t want to cross Aprilette when she catches you in a lie. No thanks to me, my best friend is in trouble. Her mom places high value on honesty, and the one time Nora gets caught is when she’s lying to my parents, two people her mother respects. It’s my fault I dragged her into this mess.

“Of course Mom expects me to magically fix this.” Aprilette groans and rolls her eyes. “She kept begging, ‘Find your sister! Find your sister!’” Though her impression of our mom’s voice is a little too high-pitched, I can still imagine her panic, the guilt seeping in my chest.

The light descends to green, and Aprilette races forward. I think she’s going the speed limit, but I hold my breath because it feels like she’s driving faster.

“She expects me to watch over you every freaking second even when I’m all the way in NorCal. And when something happens to you? She expects an answer from me.” Aprilette’s voice hitches with every sentence. My fingers tremble, and even when I curl them into my palms, they don’t stop moving. “I have to work and I have to look after you. Sometimes it feels like I don’t have a life.”

A sharp pang strikes my chest. As the oldest, Aprilette’s entrusted with all the responsibilities, and that includes keeping me on track, a responsibility I’ll never have. Not only has she studied and worked hard to make our parents proud, but she has the additional duty of making sure I grow up just as well. It isn’t until now that I realize how much pressure she’s faced. She has almost no freedom. I want to reach out and hug her, thank her for everything, but I’m the reason she’s cracking under this pressure.

“I’m so sorry, Atè.” Because this is all I can say.

At another stoplight, she pounds her foot against the brake, returning my apology with silence. “I thought Mom would cut me some slack when I moved, but somehow I’m back in this shitty place.”

I swallow the lump clogged in my throat. I’d say sorry again, a million more times, but I know, right now, she won’t accept any apology.

“So, Emilyn, why am I driving all the way here on a Saturday? Why am I back in this shitty town with all these people who thought I ate dogs? With these idiots who said I wasn’t a true Asian because I’m Filipino despite the Philippines being in Asia.”

I shudder hearing the racist remarks made towards Filipinos, how we’re lower on the hierarchy because the Philippines is considered a “third-world country.” But my family and I will defend the Philippines every single time, taking pride in our motherland, pride in our beautiful beaches, delicious food, and nurturing community.

“I really am sorry, Atè.” I know she won’t accept it, but I can’t think of anything else to say.

“Then explain.”

Despite how many times Aprilette’s told me to do this, I still can’t get myself to do just that. Not a truth. Not a lie. And when the green light flashes, only four words spill out.

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Hard to explain,” Aprilette echoes incredulously. “You leaving with some guy without telling us a word is hard to explain?”

This is why it scared me whenever Aprilette argued with anyone. Whatever your stance, she found a way to make you feel stupid.

Silence fills the car the rest of the drive home, and I suddenly wish she’d replay “Not Today” because the quiet feels so much more tense.

Aprilette reaches our house, and when she parks in our driveway, she mutters, “Can’t believe I’m back here.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Jase doesn’t look at me when he sits in his usual seat.