Page 87

“But I still made it,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’m only late by a minute.”

“The cutoff is 2:45. I’m sorry, but you know the rules.”

The door swings open. Probably another late contestant.

Suddenly, my hands clench into fists, and I’m pretty sure I’m glaring. If there’s anything I’ve learned these past four weeks, it’s that I always have something to say.

“No,” I say, my soft voice firm.

“Excuse me,” Don says, arching a grey eyebrow.

“I’m presenting,” I project.

“Rules are rules, miss,” he emphasizes.

It doesn’t matter if people are watching, or that I’m talking back to the manager/judge. I’m so close to reaching that photo finish, and like my presentations, I have to say the words I know are worth sharing.

“I’m presenting, today and next week.”

“Sweetie, let her present,” Michelle says.

His jaw clenches, either from his wife’s plea or my talking back. Probably both.

“Well—” Don begins.

“Let her present!”

Is that Nora?

I follow everyone’s glance to confirm that, yes, it is Nora, standing in front of the doors with an index card. Is that mine? I pat my pockets, in one my phone, in the other nothing. My index card must’ve fallen out while I was running here. Nora must’ve been calling my name to let me know. And now she’s here, crossing that bridge to reach me, just like in my friendship photograph.

“The presentations haven’t started yet,” Nora adds. “She’s here, isn’t that what matters?”

“I am,” I say, curling my fingers into my palms. My hands tremor as I find the strength, so I say these next words. “One minute shouldn’t stop me.”

Don’s jaw clenches tighter. Michelle waves for him to talk in private. They step away and speak quietly. Once they sit back down, they deliver the verdict.

“Okay, you can present,” Michelle says.

“But we’re deducting points from your score,” Don says.

“I understand, thank you,” I say.

Nora runs over and hands me my index card. “You’ll do awesome!” she says.

I’m the last one to present. In the first week, I couldn’t even stand up. Now, I stride across the stage and to the projector, adjusting the mic to my level. Everyone’s been watching me onstage, and today, they watched me speak up to one of the managers/judges. They know I’m here.

As I break down my process, standing in my power stance, I project, elaborating on why I chose to shoot a backlit photo: because my family’s love is the light that brings me warmth, care, and safety.

“I’m Filipina, so we’re eating Filipino food.” I name off each dish as I point them out, the audience mmm-ing.

“Masarap!” Mia Ramos, one of the contestants, exclaims.

“Yes, masarap! Now, here’s my sister, or, as we call the older girls in Tagalog, Atè.” I point to Aprilette. “She lives in San Francisco, so we always talk to her via FaceTime. That’s the nice part about smartphones. We can talk to our loved ones whenever we want, which is why I took this photo with her on the phone.”

People nod, understanding what I mean.

“We all miss each other. My dad wishes we could be in San Francisco with my Atè. My mom wishes my Atè could be here in Sunlight with us. And my Atè can’t decide if she wants us to come there or to come here.” I press my hand against my heart. “Love is family, having people who will take care of you, encourage you to strive for the best. You’ll be connected to them no matter what.”