Something in Between by Melissa de La Cruz Page A

then that I realize nothing has changed, really. We’re still our family. We’re still here in America. At least for now.
    â€œIt’s not my fault that Danny’s a stinkatron,” Isko says.
    Danny fights back. “You’re the gas master!”
    â€œStink-a-zilla!”
    â€œFartzilla!”
    â€œHey, Isko. You know what they call King Kong’s little brother?”
    Isko, shaking his head, smiles mischievously.
    â€œKing Krap!”
    â€œOkay! Enough! Out!” Dad yells, shooing them away from the table. “Water your mother’s garden. Then you go to your room and finish your homework.”
    Danny starts to complain that there’s an art project he wants to finish, but Dad won’t accept any arguing.
    I take the dishes to the sink and begin rinsing them while Mom and Dad sit at the table talking. It’s mostly small talk at first. After a few minutes, though, I can hear them arguing with each other even over the running water. “This isn’t the end,” Dad says. “There are plenty of undocumented workers in this city. You don’t even need papers. Work under the table.”
    â€œI liked working at the hospital.” Mom pouts. “Cleaning houses or offices isn’t going to pay enough. And there won’t be any benefits.”
    I put the dishes in the dishwasher loudly, letting them know I can hear everything they’re saying, but Mom doesn’t lower her voice.
    â€œI have to work a job that pays at least as much as the hospital. Or else we’ll lose the house. We have two boys who will soon be eating everything in sight. How will I keep up with them?”
    When I had asked them earlier how they bought the house in the first place, they said anyone can buy real estate in America if you don’t need a loan. Tito Sonny had loaned them money to buy the house and over the years they had been able to pay him back.
    I finish the dishes and sit back down at the table. I hate hearing my parents argue about money, but I want to be part of the conversation. I don’t want them to hide anything from me anymore.
    â€œI could start working,” I say. “I’ll give up cheer and get a job.” If they can work with fake papers, so can I.
    â€œNo, Jasmine,” Dad says. “You have to focus on school.”
    But why? I think. Why focus on school if we can’t afford to send me to college anyway? Not without a scholarship, and we all know I can’t get one if I’m not a citizen or a legal resident. All the federal and state aid grants require a social security number and proof of legal residency or citizenship—of which I have neither.
    I’m going to miss the UC application deadline that’s coming up, but I can’t worry about college right now. With my mom out of work, I have to do something. I can’t let them lose the house. I can’t let my little brothers suffer. I’ve been so selfish this whole time, thinking about only my own dreams and fears. In cheer you can’t let one person take on the weight of the whole team. It’s the same with family. Everyone needs to support each other.
    â€œWhy not?” I ask. “I can do it.”
    â€œAbsolutely not,” Mom says. She reaches across the table and grabs my hands. “You need to keep your focus on school. There must be scholarships or grants other than government ones. Maybe we can take out a private loan or something.”
    She’s in denial , I think.
    â€œWe’ll figure it out. You deserve to go,” she tells me.
    â€œAnd you deserve better than cleaning up other people’s messes, Mom,” I say. “You could get a different kind of job.”
    Dad scoffs. “That’s not going to happen without citizenship. Or at least another set of fake papers.”
    â€œI’m tired of lying,” Mom says. “We need to do things the right way.”
    Mom tells us that she’s found