Filipina-American Emilyn Padilla has a secret. While her parents believe their daughter is following her older sister Aprilette's path toward medical school, Emilyn is actually preparing for a photography competition that could win her a scholarship to art school. Science makes Aprilette shine; through a camera lens, Emilyn finally sees herself clearly.

Every week, she slips away to develop her portfolio and rehearse her presentation with Jase, a guitarist whose calloused fingertips brush against her photographs with the same reverence she feels listening to his music. Her parents think she's volunteering at the hospital and cramming for the SATs, never suspecting she's learning to stand before strangers and speak about the images that make her pulse quicken.

This summer tastes like freedom, but leaves a question lingering: What costs more; sacrificing your passion or breaking your parents' hearts?

14+ due to adult situations

 

Excerpt:

After I pass up my homework, Jase says, “Um, Emilyn? Hate to ask you for the second time, but can I borrow another pencil?”

“Of course.” Right as I pick one up, I joke, “You’re not sitting next to me just because I have a bunch of pencils, are you?” I don’t know why, but I feel this sudden urge to mess around with him.

Jase chuckles at this. It’s low and deep and somehow sounds as melodic as his guitar playing. “That’s exactly why.”

Just as he’s about to take the pencil, one red like roses, from my hand, I move my pencil out of his reach. He narrows a pair of puppy dog eyes at me. I only leer in response. Again, he chuckles, which makes me stretch my arm farther away. I don’t know what’s made me bold enough to play around with a cute guitarist I initially ran away from. First a full conversation and now I’m messing with him? Wonder if that tortang tuna spinach omelet I ate for breakfast had a magical ingredient that made me braver. Around cute boys, anyway.

“I swear,” Jase begins, “I’m sitting next to you again because you’re cool.”

Cool.

He chose to sit by me because, apparently, I’m cool. No one’s ever described me that way. I’m the quiet girl who shrinks when she has to talk, how could he think I’m cool?

“Okay, that’s fair.” I hand him my pencil.

He grins as he takes the pencil from me. “And I promise to give it back, even if you don’t remember to ask.”

I toss him a look that says, Whatever.

After Mr. Daniels picks up our homework, he sets them on the desk, then pulls out another stack of papers.

“As you all know, there’s going to be a vocabulary section,” Mr. Daniels begins, “which means that you’ll have a lot of words to memorize.”

Everyone nods in unity. Even though Jase nods, his eyebrows furrow, and he makes a face as if it’s his first time hearing this.

“For the first hour of this session, you’re all going to figure out a strategy to help you memorize each word. It can be anything—an image or a rhyme, or another word that starts with the same letter.” He hands out the presumed vocabulary sheets to each row. “And be prepared to share.”

I tighten my lips. Once I get my sheet, I study the list, the vocabulary words in one column, their definitions in the other. I flip to a blank page in my notebook and illustrate for each word. I’m not an artist, and even though all my illustrations are basic—they’re practically sketches—I still draw anyway.

Ten minutes pass. Mr. Daniels works his way down each row. He asks us to share two strategies, so I look through my list and finalize my decision.

“Emilyn,” Mr. Daniels says, his tone louder than the one he’s been using for everyone else, like some reminder that I need to project.

“One of my words is virulent, which means poisonous,” I say in an uncomfortably louder-than-usual tone. Mr. Daniels grins like he’s taught something that has truly paid off, how satisfying. “It starts with a v, just like venom, and I instantly think of an ivy plant.” I keep my notebook on my desk, refusing to show my illustrations.

“Very good.” Mr. Daniels still has that same tone as some sort of reminder for me to keep talking at that same volume. “Share one more.”

I feel better, more confident, hearing this, and as I talk about the next word, I raise my voice. “And teem, which means abundant, sounds exactly like team, except they’re spelled differently. There’s an abundant number of people on a team, so I just have to think of a sports game whenever teem spelled with two e’s comes up.”

“Great! We can all remember what those words mean just by thinking of those images, right?” Everyone says, “Yeah.” Jase nods like a bobble head that’s been shaking so much it can’t stop moving. Mr. Daniels adds, “See what happens when you project? You teach the class everything you know.”

I straighten my back, feeling ready to talk more. I got this.

“You’re Aprilette’s sister, right?” Mr. Daniels asks.

This is a question I always dread. I feel like I should be flattered by it. But if anyone were to look at the smile pasted on my face, they’d see all the glue oozing underneath it. Once that question is asked, I have to be just like her.

“Yes,” I confirm.

“You’re very smart, just like your sister.”

Sometimes I wonder if people only think I’m smart because of who my Atè is. The last four words echo into my ears, reverberating to remind me that I will always be known as Aprilette Padilla’s little sister. Not Emilyn Padilla.

“Thank you.” I sew a smile while Mr. Daniels flashes me a genuine one.

Now it’s Jase’s turn. There’s some tension in his body. “One word I have is syco-pu-hant.”

Several snickers sputter through the room. Jase turns his head from left to right, wondering what’s so funny.

“Sy-co-fant,” Mr. Daniels enunciates each syllable. Jase just stares at him. “The p-h-a-n-t part is pronounced fant.”

Red tinges Jase’s face. “Oh.”

Mr. Daniels’s face is stiffened, like he’s holding in a sigh. I look at Jase with concern. It’s not fair to be humiliated twice. Jase isn’t even laughing with them, so clearly he doesn’t find it funny. Just humiliating. I wish I could tell everyone, especially Mr. Daniels, to shut up. Instead, I seal my mouth shut, choosing to stay silent. To be the only one who doesn’t laugh.

“Well,” Jase starts, “it means ‘suck up,’ and that sounds a lot like the first part, syc. I also have penurious, which means ‘cheap and stingy.’ The first part sounds like ‘penny,’ and anything cheap is probably worth a penny.”

Mr. Daniels nods, then says to the girl in front of Jase, “Your turn.”

Jase thins his mouth and studies his notebook paper like it has all the wrong answers.

I wait until Mr. Daniels reaches whoever’s near the front, then whisper, “Hey, Jase.” His head swivels my way. “Those are great ways to remember those words.”

Surprise washes over his face, a smile curving upwards like a parabola. “Thanks! You had great ones, too.”