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“It’s never going to happen, so why try?” I don’t like seeing myself in photos. All my features are captured, frozen, so everyone can judge exactly what they see. There’s no way I’ll take a photo with my look of the day—my red WCH polo shirt, khaki pants, and hair tied in a messy ponytail. WCH doesn’t deserve to be displayed in a selfie anyway.

She sighs. “Fine, let’s just go.”

On the way back to our cars, we laugh at all the things we said while videobombing the father.

****

I’ve never really enjoyed homework checkups or study sessions with my parents—then again, I don’t think they’re meant to be fun—but now, though, I wish more than anything to be studying rather than watching my mom scrutinize my homework.

“Anak, the work you’re showing here is very scarce,” she says.

My eyes plummet to my hands as if I’m the one holding my AP Bio homework. My parents usually gloss over my AP English and AP Government work, scanning enough to know that I answer thoroughly. With AP Bio, however, they’re much more meticulous. Still, even with this knowledge, all from personal experience, along with observations seeing my parents do the same for Aprilette, I slacked off on everything. I did the work, but with less effort than usual. I was so busy writing my presentation that I was too tired to try as hard as I usually do.

“I was exhausted.”

“Did you take any breaks? Your Atè always did before going back to work. It helped her a lot.”

“I didn’t, but I probably should have.”

“Yes, you should. It’ll relax your brain so you can rejuvenate and think clearly again. Also, remember to show all your work, siggi? It’s important to walk through all the steps to make sure you don’t mess up. Details are important.”

I agree with the last part. I just wished they were details I cared about instead of the ones I should care about. But instead of voicing this out loud, I reply, “Siggi, po.”

“Let’s work on where you need to show more steps.”

I nod, suddenly wishing my dad would arrive so we can finally eat dinner, move on to something that doesn’t involve studying or homework. I think my mom has always been the watchful, caring kind. She’s an Atè herself, which explains why she puts so much value on Aprilette.

To this day, she still looks after Tita Maricel. When they were kids, their parents separated, and their mom was always either working, going on dates, or partying. Usually, it was the last one. Tita Maricel liked going out and hanging out with her friends, and she wouldn’t work on her homework until the morning it was due. And she’d cram the night before all her exams. My mom was the opposite. She finished her homework as soon as it was assigned, and she studied at least two weeks in advance, writing her essays with the same length of time. My mom tried to get my Tita Maricel to work harder on her homework and study more. Tita Maricel just waved off my mom and said she was boring. My mom, while a bit mad that my Tita insulted her, continued being the studious, hardworking one of the sisters. She figured that if her mom wasn’t going to be a good role model, then she had to be for Tita Maricel. And my mom continues to be that role model.

We work through the questions where I need to show more steps. Meanwhile, my head juggles all these thoughts of how else I could edit my photo, along with how I could project without needing Mr. Daniels’s unrequested assistance.

My dad returns home, and after we eat dinner—pinakbet with white rice—he quizzes me on AP Bio while my mom washes the dishes. However, I answer some incorrectly and forget a few concepts.

“Anak, it is important to remember all of this because you will need them in the future,” my dad says sternly.

An education, according to my parents, is the most valuable gem the world can offer. They always tell me and Aprilette that learning is vital to growing, to understanding the world and developing our own perspective, so if the world chooses to oppose us, the knowledge and skills we gain can be our weapons. My dad once said that no one can take away your education. Those skills, the knowledge you acquire, it’s all yours, and you become valuable. I appreciate that my parents care about me and Aprilette this much, push us to polish this gem they admire deeply. But I just wish I was more interested in the kind of education they’re familiar with, the kind that requires studying and taking exams and going to labs. Guilt churns in me as I purse my lips to suppress a yawn. If I had an ounce of bravery, I would tell my dad that this is all pointless, that I’d prefer to attend an arts school and acquire skills and knowledge for something I genuinely love.

Instead, I nod and reply, “Siggi, po.”

“Okay, here’s what I should’ve done when I was your age.”

He points to one of the compound structures, then explains how he’d break it down. Throughout our study session, he peppers me with leading questions (“How do we do this?” “How would you start this question?” “What’s the next step?”) My mind almost deviates, ready to dive back into the world of Blossoms, all tables occupied with painters/writers/animators.

“Remember, I slacked off, your Atè didn’t,” my dad says, tugging me back to reality. His tone is lighthearted, but I can hear regret. “Look at her now, living the life she’s dreamed of. Work hard and retain all this, anak. Everything you learn now will be important later on. That’s something I should’ve told myself when I was your age.”

“You’re still smart now, po,” I assure him. “You’re doing a lot better than you think.”

He shrugs, still looking at my homework, locking the chemical compound structure in focus. “When you go to college, I hope we don’t need to pull out loans again. Maybe, like your Tito Rommulo and Tita Aurora, we can just pay for your tuition. No financial aid needed.”

I hug my dad tightly. At the kitchen sink, my mom’s sponge squeaks as she rubs it against a plate.

My heart aches whenever my dad talks about my Tito Rommulo, who he calls Kuya because Tito Rommulo is his older brother. During their younger days in Manila they both studied hard and earned good grades. According to my dad, however, my Tito Rommulo studied harder and even attended the top university in the Philippines. My dad studied a maximum of two hours a day, and while he attended a prestigious university as well, my Tito Rommulo earned all the praise. He even came to America before my parents did. Now he works as a doctor in San Francisco, living with my Tita Aurora, who’s a popular lawyer. His children, my cousins Ava and Gabriel, are, respectively, finishing up their business classes at Stanford’s grad school and working at a bank. My dad never passed his USMLE, giving up before he even attempted a third time. He still regrets it, thinking we could’ve made more money had he passed and became a physician. I want to tell him that it’s okay, that everything happens for a reason, but how affective could old clichés be?

A lot of times, my dad wishes he would’ve followed in my Tito Rommulo’s footsteps. He did follow one—coming here to America so Aprilette and I could, “embrace every opportunity the world has to offer.” Really, I think my dad just wanted to shadow Tito Rommulo’s path because it seemed like everything his Kuya did was right. He loved the Philippines, but all the comparisons to Tito Rommulo got to him.

Sometimes I think the values my parents place on my Atè stem from their experiences as siblings themselves. My mom is an Atè and my dad wishes he could’ve been more like his Kuya. Since Aprilette is as successful as they hoped, achieving the dream they moved to the US for, they want the same for me. If my Atè’s path worked for her, it’ll work for me too. But if I were as interested in bio as I am in photography, maybe I wouldn’t be so afraid of disappointing my parents.

Now, I study harder, but only so I can practice my presentation sooner. Once we’re done, my parents have an overview of what happened today.