“Sure sounds like a good way to pick a college,” she says. My mother went to Rutgers University in New Jersey, which is a state school. She paid for it with money she won in beauty pageants during high school and earned waitressing in Manhattan. During her college years, my mom lived on ramen, and the way she tells it, she would have gotten rickets if she didn’t occasionally get taken on dates to fancy restaurants. She would order filet mignon and steamed broccoli and sneak bread into her purse when the guy went to the bathroom. My mom is proud of her scrappy rise to fame, as she should be. A million girls like her show up in LA every day trying to make it. Most head back home a year or two later. My mom, on the other hand, had a steady income acting on television by the age of twenty-three.

“The test didn’t go well,” I say eventually, when what I really mean is I bombed. I guessed on more than half of the questions. According to Mrs. Oh, colleges take your best scores. I’ve sat through enough practice tests to know this is not going to be it.

“I’m sure you’re not giving yourself enough credit. I bet you did better than you think,” my mom says.

“Nope.” I lick my ice cream, fight back the tears. It’s a test. Nothing more, nothing less. Shola reminds me all the time that a score is only a score. It says nothing about the real me: how I’m a good friend and a good daughter and a good citizen, even if I’m a crappy student. Every Christmas, my reading buddy Cesar’s mom bakes me cookies, and last year’s card read Thank you for taking such good care of my little boy. He talks about you all the time, like you’re his big sister for real.

I remind myself that Levi called me amazing less than twenty-four hours ago. I try to hold on to that boost, but it’s already slipping. He texted me this morning: BREAK A LEG SUNSHINE!!!! and I wrote back, Pls take it for me with fifteen prayer hand emojis, and he wrote back, Wish i could babe.

He’s never called me babe before. I like it.

“You’ll see. I have a good feeling,” my mom says.

“Whatever.”

“Don’t be so negative.”

“Mom!”