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He snuggles his nose against mine, coaxing a giggle out of me. “I have plenty of inspiration for new songs.”

I nuzzle my nose against his.

“Well, it’s your turn.”

I pull out my five photos from the competition. I’ve kept them in my bag in case I wanted to hold real photographs instead of looking at the ones taken on my phone. “Time to present these without an index card.”

As I do, this whole summer unfolds like a photo album. Me and Nora walking out to Star Lakes during the golden hour. Me helping Gavin tell Marcos about his plan to move to L.A. Me hanging out with Nora, Jase, and all our friends at Castle Play, along with me and Jase sneaking into his school. Me eating Filipino food with my parents while FaceTiming Aprilette, the smell of Curtain Lake, and the sound of ducks’ quacks still strong in my mind. Me listening to Jase’s first song about me, along with Ava’s graduation party and me sneaking out of San Francisco. Despite all the punishments I’ve faced, they were worth it. As I shuffle through my photographs again, it all hits me. This was the best summer because I made all the choices myself.

Choices I made to follow my passion.

“It doesn’t have to be over,” I suddenly say.

Jase lifts his eyebrows. “What?”

“This.” I wave my photographs. “I don’t have to stop.”

Chapter Forty-Six

As I shovel a piece of salmon, the filet soaked in hot broth, into my mouth, I prepare myself for the secret I’ve withheld from my parents.

Just stand your ground. Though I repeat these words like a chorus, they don’t stop the nerves from stirring.

“Well, anak,” my dad begins, raking a spoonful of rice, “have you narrowed down your choices?”

Aprilette told our parents I still didn’t know where to apply. I explained that I hadn’t narrowed down my choices. I wasn’t ready to tell them the truth then.

Silence floats around the dining table as I chew on my salmon filet. My mom lifts her eyebrows, and my dad looks at me expectantly.

“Mom, Dad,” I begin, “I don’t want to go to a traditional, four-year university. I want to go to an arts school.”

My mom’s mouth drops open, and my dad rubs his temples.

“Like Amado?” He says his name like he’s referring to a villain.

My lips quiver, but I swallow whatever fear is surging through my throat and straighten my shoulders. “Yes, like Kuya Amado. I want to be a photographer.”

“We talked about this already,” my dad says.

“I know, po, but I can’t see myself attending a traditional university like Atè. I don’t want to spend four years studying a field I don’t care about, or taking extra classes just to make myself a well-rounded student. I can see why someone would want to pursue that path, but it’s not for me. I want to focus on my passion and meet others with the same passion.”

“But don’t you know what Amado’s doing now?” my mom says, worried.

“Amado is happy,” I say.

I go to my room, grab my photos from my bag, and drop them on the table. My bravery photo is on top, slanted like a painting missing a nail. “I participated in a photography competition and placed third. That guy Piolo saw me with? He drove me from San Francisco to Sunlight so I could make it to the final presentation. If I didn’t, I would’ve been disqualified.”

They stare at my photographs like they’re a pile of skeleton bones. My dad jolts his eyes to mine.

“That’s why you were taking pictures,” he says, and I just know he’s thinking I defied him and my mom.

My fingers tremble, but I clench them into fists. “I wanted to try. I didn’t win the scholarship, but this competition helped me realize I want to pursue photography as a career.” I press my hands against my chest, right where my heart is. “Malapit sa puso ko ang photography. Sumasay ako.” I emphasize these last two words, hoping my parents will understand that photography makes me happy, that it, like our culture, is part of me.

“You think we’re going to pay your tuition for an arts school?” my dad says.

“There’s financial aid and scholarships,” I say.

“But it’s hard making it in photography.” My mom’s voice tremors as she speaks. “Barely any jobs hire an employee with an arts degree.”