I stretched and yawned. There was a dull pain in the muscles of my upper leg, so I tried not to move too much. Eight o'clock, and Luis was finally quiet, no sounds coming from our bedroom anymore. I loved the little guy, really, but I imagined perishing from a lack of sleep was much more satisfying if you did it for your own kids. Honestly, if I'd known David had accidentally got some woman pregnant, I would've thought twice before agreeing to get an apartment with him and Valentina. Even with tía Paciencia coming over a few times a day to help, taking care of a baby, dinner, and my business was just too much.

Not that I'd ever confess that, to anyone. What if I ever wanted a child of my own, and they'd be like: "Remember, back then? You couldn't handle it." Oh well... Maybe it didn't matter anyway. Maybe Luis was the closest I would ever come to being a mother. It certainly seemed like it. Even abuela thought so — I realized that when I heard some girls from the neighborhood complain about her asking them if they'd found a man yet every time they visited. She'd never asked me.

The lock clicked, and the door opened, revealing a Valentina who was so exhausted her eyes were drooping. With a drawn-out groan, she stumbled inside, dumping her bag on the floor and throwing herself in the chair beside me. "I. Am. Not. Alive," she said, dramatically spreading out her arms and legs.

"So... you're dead?"

A theatrical sigh. "Yes. I hate college. I hate waitressing. I swear, honey, I'm gonna quit and become a stripper."

Considering she'd sworn that about ten times before and never went through with it, it was safe to take that comment with a grain of salt. Especially since she would be graduating in a few months. While she went on to complain about her sexist teachers and rude customers, I put some leftover macaroni in the microwave for her to eat, knowing she'd be hungry. "Oh, by the way," she said, "I ran into David just now. He's not coming home tonight, but he wanted me to tell you something about having a new client? Either an app or a website, I'm not sure."

Great. Thanks for the info, Vale. This was exactly why I let David handle my phone calls and not her. I'd rather have done it myself, of course, but I'd found out the hard way people weren't inclined to hire a young girl with a weird voice. From then on, David had covered that part of the business, making good use of his magnificent impersonation skills. He could easily pass for British royalty if he did his best.

And he actually knew how to take notes.

"Wait, honey, what's this?"

In a flash, I turned around. Fuck. The acceptance letters. I meant to hide them before she came home. She was holding one of them, her lips moving soundlessly as her eyes roamed the page. Oh no...

"Nothing," I said, trying to pull the paper from her hands.

She moved back, though, out of my reach, never leaving the letter. "You better get that microwave before it beeps and the hot dog wakes up."

Normally, I'd scold her for calling Luis a hot dog, but right now, a slight panic bubbling in my stomach told me to listen to her. Right before it counted down to zero, I pushed the stop button, then turned around to get back to preventing her from reading the letters. Too late.

She jumped up, marched towards me, and harshly shoved one of them in my face. In a blur, I recognized the yellow and blue of Berkeley. Pulling back, she pointed at the logo, more aggressively than needed, seemingly suddenly wide awake. "You applied to Berkeley?" she said. "To Berkeley? I thought you were only going to apply to community colleges? Freaking Berkeley, June?"

"Yes," I said, because there was no way I was getting out of this one. "And Stanford."

Her mouth fell open, a little too dramatically, and she waved her arms through the air. "O my god... You got into Stanford?"

That shouldn't sting, seeing as thousands of people didn't get into Stanford every year, and yet, it did. It was foolish to have tried and foolish to be disappointed. "No, I didn't, actually. Only Berkeley."

Valentina shook her head again, her hair flying everywhere. Out of nowhere, she started laughing, spinning around on her heels. "Oh, what the hell, who cares! It's Berkeley, honey. Berkeley! How did you even...? Don't you need to do a bunch of expensive tests to even...?"

Despite everything, a glowing pride spread itself through my chest, even though I knew it would be short-lived. "Yes. I saved up. I make more money building these websites than you think. Sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry?" She grabbed me by my shoulders, shaking me back and forth. "Do you think I care even one tiny shit? You made it, June! This is it." Her face lit up, eyes shining like she'd won a million dollars. There was something about her wide smile that hit me with the force of a bulldozer — don't cry, June. You know what happens when you cry.

"I'm not going."

I almost couldn't get the words out. Thinking them was one thing — saying them out loud, however, made it real, and I wasn't ready to make it real.

Immediately, the smile faded, arms falling down her body. "What?"

"I didn't get a scholarship. The financial aid would only get me so far... I just can't afford it."

My hands curled up into fists, mouth straining. Enough of this. It was foolish to be sad about something I knew was unattainable from the start. Me and my dreaming... Why did I even apply in the first place? What was the point in that? Why would I want to go back to California? There was nothing left for me there.

To avoid seeing her disappointment, I turned to the microwave, opening up the door with shaky hands. The scent of melted cheese filled the kitchen. Just like community college, it smelled like a second-rate option. And yet, it was the only one.

"Okay, no scholarship," she said. Her determined tone surprised me. "You know what you have to do then."

"What? Become a stripper?"

An exasperated sigh. "No. I mean, you could, but that's not what I meant." She crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head slightly. "Come on. You know what he said about money."

I stumbled backward, grabbing the counter to regain my balance. My heart was paralyzed, quiet, like it wasn't sure how it should react to the mention of him after all this time. It wasn't as if I hadn't thought of it for a second, but I still wasn't prepared for her bringing it up. How did she even know? She wasn't there, and I never told her what happened.

Oh. My poetry. I must've let my laptop unguarded at some point.

"You read my stuff?"

"Duh."

It seemed like even my inner thoughts weren't private in this apartment. I should've been angry, should've attacked her for it, begin the umpteenth argument of the week that would end in Luis crying and Valentina storming off — instead, I sighed. "He said that two years ago. I haven't even talked to him since then."

"Well, then this is the perfect opportunity to get back in contact."

"Are you serious?"

"Do you see me laughing?"

I huffed. She was being irrational again, like when she met that basketball player in the restaurant and was convinced she'd end up marrying him. "It's not a pair of shoes we're talking about here. It's a college education."

"Yeah, that's what I mean. Much more important than a pair of shoes."

"Oh, yeah, you're right. You know, I'll just call him up. 'Hi Nathan, I know we haven't spoken in two years, but I need two-hundred-and-fifty dollars, plus a hundred-and-twenty-thousand more for the rest of my education. Can you transfer it to my bank account? Thanks.'"

"Okay, smart-ass. Then go to the bank and get a big fat loan."

I fell silent. She knew very well that was out of the question as well. My mother was already in enough debt as it was. No banker in his right mind would even consider granting me a loan as big as I needed.

"See?" Valentina said. "He is your only option."

A guy I'd once been in love with, who'd run away after kissing me, was my only option? No thanks. I took a deep breath, walking to the fridge to get some cheese. Usually, I tried not to think about the state of the thing, about the noise it produced and the pool of water I'd find spilling from under it every morning — now, however, I pictured that white kitchen again, full of spotless appliances that worked and didn't make a sound. After returning to New York, I'd found out very quickly my mother had been right about me. I was spoiled.

Was it really too much to ask for a fridge that didn't leak, though?

"I'm not going to beg him for money, Vale. I'll just go to one of the community colleges and get a small loan, like most people in this world."

She rolled her eyes at me, snatching the cheese from my grip and throwing most of it on top of her macaroni. "That's the stupidest thing you ever said. You're acting like your mother."

Ouch. The mother insult. That was a low blow. Honestly, I'd used it against her too, and she in return had slung it at me before, but this was the first time it hurt. My mother and I hadn't been on good terms lately. Things had been a precarious, unreal sort of fine when we'd first moved back. She'd gone to therapy, like she'd vowed to do, and for a while, I truly believed we might be okay again. Until abuela had influenced her with all her opinions on therapists, or, as abuela called them, charlatans. That was when she stopped going, and everything went downhill again. A few months later, dad's death had finally sunk in. It was in that period I'd decided to get an apartment with Valentina and David, with mom being too depressing to be around. I hadn't wanted to talk and cry about dad all day — I'd wanted to get on with my life, and she hadn't understood that. Since then, we'd been wobbly, fighting over life choices every now and then. My mother still seemed to think she always knew best. She didn't. No one did.

Valentina stuck a spoonful of macaroni in her mouth, chewing on it loudly. Her excitement was palpable, with the speed she was gulping the simple meal down. "Honey," she said, pointing the empty spoon at me, "the worst thing that could happen is him saying no. The best thing is you going to Berkeley. And you really don't even want to try?"

Although that was certainly not the worst thing that could happen, I wasn't going to correct her. The mental image of entering the house and finding another woman with grandma Redstone's ring around her finger was too horrifying to be spoken out loud — plus, it would seem like I cared, and I didn't. Really. "You know I don't like charity."

"Ugh, you're too stubborn for your own good, you know that? If anyone deserves a little charity, it's you. Besides, you'd be doing it for me too. You'll go to Berkeley and program the new Google or something, and then you'll buy me a castle with a pool and a hot pool boy."

I raised my eyebrows at her. She only shrugged, deeply serious, like she really believed it could be like that. Maybe she did. I might've lost my ability to dream like that, hers had only improved as she'd gotten older. Adorable. Even though I tried not to, I smiled. "If I ever become a billionaire, I'll buy you four castles. One for each season. And I'll make sure to put our mothers somewhere at the end of the world."

She laughed, throwing her head back. Seeing her like that, it didn't seem all that implausible she'd marry some rich man one day. "Gosh, I love you," she said, dumping the spoon on her plate to enwrap me in a hug. She smelled like a mixture of food and cheap deodorant. Then, she let go, staring me right in the eye. "But be honest. Is this really what you want? Live in this stinkhole of an apartment with your dumb cousins, take care of kids that aren't even yours? Because I don't know — we told David to wrap it up in the future, but you know how he is, the puto. Claiming it 'doesn't feel as good'." She put the last bit in air quotes, rolling her eyes.

My body tensed, and I pressed my fist into my side. I'd never admit it, though lately, I'd been having horrible visions of me in this room, surrounded by five girls and five boys, ranging from toddler to preteen, all whining about when their daddy and mommy would come home. Dirty diapers. No chance of working. Clogging drains. Cooking all day. Cooped up inside because the elevator was broken. It was an overexaggerated image, and yet, it scared the hell out of me. Secretly, I'd been fantasizing about a small house for myself, maybe with a yard where I could read books. My own little paradise.

Valentina patted my cheek. "That's what I thought. I don't know what happened with you two, but I'm sure it can't be that bad that he'll turn you away, right?"

I nodded, not really believing myself.

We were over forever. I was never going to see him again.

So, how could I break that, and contact him again? I was the one who told him to leave me alone. What would he think of me, taking that back to scrounge for money? For all I knew, he'd become a different person in these past two years. What if he'd forgotten about his offer?

I was sure this wasn't what he'd meant when he'd said it.

From behind me, a loud cry sounded through the apartment. Valentina sighed. "I'll get him."

As Luis' wails became louder and louder, despite Vale softly singing to him, another truth forced its way out, one I'd been attempting to suppress ever since I read that letter.

I was also sure I really, really wanted to go to Berkeley.