Something in Between by Melissa de La Cruz Read Free Book Online

you about, and it’s time we were honest with you,” he says. His face is grave, and so sad that I can’t bear it.
    I run through the reasons they might be acting so strangely. Did Dad lose his job? Is he sick? “You’re scaring me, Daddy.”
    â€œIt’s not what you think. I’m not sick and neither is your mom.”
    He knows me so well. “So what’s going on, then?” I ask, my breath catching in my throat. Whatever it is, it’s bad.
    â€œYou can’t accept this scholarship. I’m so sorry,” he says, putting his hand over mine to comfort me. Mom is about to say something but he hushes her.
    â€œBut why not?” I ask, stunned.
    â€œBecause you don’t have a green card, Jasmine. None of us do. And that means you’re not eligible for this award.”
    â€œI don’t have a green card? I don’t understand. Of course I do. We all do, don’t we?” It’s like my dad is talking nonsense.
    He puffs out his cheeks. “When we first moved here, we had work visas that allowed Mom and me to work for Tito Sonny’s export business, remember that?”
    I nod. We called him Uncle— Tito —even though we’re not related. Tito Sonny is a friend of the family who gave my parents jobs working in his discount store, stocking shelves and keeping inventory. He imported Chinese and Filipino items and sold them to the expat community. The items were cheap knickknacks—velvet paintings of Jesus, cheesy 3-D paintings of waterfalls, ceramic Buddhas, that sort of thing.
    â€œBut that store closed years ago and Tito Sonny went back to the Philippines,” I say, remembering now.
    â€œExactly. When the store closed, our work visas expired. Tito Sonny thought he would be able to sponsor us for green cards, but he couldn’t even sustain the business. We thought it would be easy to find other jobs and new visas, but that hasn’t been the case.”
    I vaguely remember a few years ago when my parents were always tense, right after the store closed. There were a few months when neither of them worked. I thought we were just worried about money back then. I didn’t know they were also worried about being able to stay here legally.
    â€œSo what does that mean?” I ask, still stunned. “We really don’t have green cards?” The news is starting to sink in.
    â€œWe never did, just temporary work visas. Right now we don’t have any proof of legal residency. That’s why we stopped visiting the Philippines. We didn’t want to get trapped there. Not after building a new life here. We couldn’t take away your home. We didn’t think you would have to prove legal status for a college scholarship. We were hoping...”
    â€œSo wait. What are you saying? I’m not legal? We’re not in America legally? Oh my God.”
    Dad nods and looks like he’s about to cry, which makes me want to cry too.
    â€œBut if I’m not legal, how could I go to school all these years? How can any of us go to school?”
    â€œMa and I didn’t choose California only for the palm trees and sunshine. We came here because it’s easier on immigrants generally. Schools can’t report undocumented students, and they don’t do a lot of workplace raids.”
    â€œBut how do you guys work?”
    â€œWe have fake papers. The hospital and the bus company don’t sponsor work visas, not for the kind of jobs we do.” Unskilled jobs, they mean. Menial jobs.
    â€œWhat...” I feel tears welling in my eyes. Why didn’t they tell me earlier? Did they not trust me? “Please tell me you’re joking.” I just can’t accept this. This can’t be the truth.
    â€œNo, we’re not joking, Jasmine,” Dad says. “We thought a college scholarship would solve everything for you, for our kids. We didn’t know most of the grants and loans are for citizens