Page 28

She’s right. Even when Aprilette marveled at UC San Diego’s beautiful campus, she still chose UC Berkeley.

“You never know.” I’m only saying this to give my mom a little bit of hope. It pains me to see her shoulders sag, her smile sad.

She shrugs, then kisses my forehead goodnight before exiting my room.

Chapter Ten

Even though chatter floods the SMARTake classroom, I still mask my hand over my mouth and yawn, breath heavy against my palm.

I stayed up until 1:00 AM because I couldn’t stop thinking about how easily I surrendered to Sandra and Aaliyah. My mind was cruel enough to remind me that I also need to present. My anger battled with my anxiety, and after hours and hours of tossing and turning, I read my AP Bio textbook and bored myself to sleep.

Well, I can at least prepare for the part I dread most, and though I haven’t taken my photo yet, I already have a clear vision. I take out my notebook and start writing my presentation.

In this photograph, I am presenting friendship with my best friend Nora Jimenez as the model.

Too boring. Erase.

My definition of friendship is...

Erase.

I think friendship is all about helping someone cross over a bridge...

As I study this last sentence, I ultimately decide to place it at the end.

The door flaps open, and it takes one plaid sleeve to confirm that Jase is now entering the room. He crosses through with his chill demeanor, legs loose and easily moving as he passes by the SAT posters. Again, he sits beside me, and I feel heat strike across my face. I’m surprised he’s sitting next to me again, especially since there are other seats available. My guess is that, like me, he doesn’t speak to anyone here. And, judging by the fact that everyone is in the same desks as last session, maybe he’s just sitting in his unassigned assigned seat. An unspoken rule for all classroom settings.

“Hey,” Jase greets, nodding at me.

“Hi,” I say, expecting him to ask me to repeat myself. Instead of asking, his eyes drop to my desk.

“That isn’t for class, is it?” he says. Several times I blink, and he tips his head to my notebook, my one sentence clouded with erasure smudges.

“It’s just for this competition,” I say. I’m not entirely sure why I tell him this. I could’ve said No, it’s not for class.

I expect him to sigh a breath of relief, thank the heavens there wasn’t extra work on top of our SAT homework. Instead, he tilts his head to the side, curious.

“A competition?” he echoes.

“I’m entering a photography contest, and first-place gets a full-ride scholarship to Jansen School of Arts,” I explain. “My favorite photographer is a professor there.”

Cue Jase asking me about Jansen School of Arts. But again, he surprises me with his next question.

“You’re a photographer?”

“Yeah, I am. Well, a student photographer, anyway. I just finished my Intermediate Photography class last week.”

I’m pretty sure this is more information than I need to give him. Suddenly, he shifts his legs so his knees face me, and he inclines slightly.

“What kind of pictures do you take?”

Shouldn’t I be happy that someone, especially a cute boy, is asking me about my photographs? The only time my parents ask me about photography is when they want to know if I’ve finished my homework for the class. Even then, they just assume I have. Nora simply says my photos look awesome, no questions or anything. I’ve always wished for someone outside of my photography class to ask me questions about my photos. Now that it’s happening, though, I can’t help but wonder, What if he thinks they’re weird?

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to look at them. They’re weird.” Crap, why did I say that out loud?

“Really? Now you have to tell me more.” Jase grins, and his dimples pop out like they’re baiting me to grant him his wish. The audacity. He even has the nerve to lean forward so I can see his dimples and grin up close.

“You want to know more about my weird photos?”