I’m not sure what I could’ve done to make this situation better. Going to the principal at the first sign of trouble would’ve been best, for sure. I’d also skip over the part where I accused my best friends of being manipulative traitors.

“You don’t have to worry about him, even though I know it doesn’t help,” Pops says, sliding the letter toward me. “He’s suspended for the rest of the school year, and even then, the principal says they’re thinking of not inviting him back.”

“That’s good.” I stare down at the letter. By January of next year, I’ll know where I’m going to college. “Would—would it be weird if I wanted to study theater in college?”

I can’t believe I just asked that. Right now, of all times.

“Of course not,” Pops says, surprise clear in his voice. I glance up to see the same emotion in his eyes. “Why would it be?”

“I just…” I don’t know how to explain myself. Why would it be weird? “Because I’d be trying to follow this path that doesn’t have a clear start and the two of you have such good jobs and San Francisco is so expensive and so is New York—”

“Cariño,” Dad says. He doesn’t say anything else, so I look up at him. It looks like his eyes are watering. Damn, I hate when they cry around me. “Do you know that I wasn’t always going to be a doctor?”

“No.” I bite my lip. “I thought you knew you wanted to be a doctor after Tía Camila almost got pregnant? That’s what she told me.”

“What?” His brows furrow. “No. I—well, I was going to be a contractor. Your abuelo wanted me to work with him. I knew that it was expected of me ever since I was young. But as I started working, I noticed something. Business wasn’t always great. We borrowed a lot of money to stay afloat.”

“Well, yeah, that makes sense,” I say. “Nothing’s always great.”

“That’s the point,” he says, taking my hand. “That was the moment I realized that I could fail at something I didn’t even like. It would be so much better to fail at something I love than something that already makes me miserable.”

It makes so much sense that it makes my throat ache. I glance down at my lap. Could it really be that simple? It seems like most adults have jobs that make them miserable. Spending my life wishing for something else almost seems like a rite of passage. But I guess it doesn’t have to be. Dr. Khan doesn’t seem miserable. Neither does Mr. Palumbo, or Auntie Jackie.

“Simone,” Pops says. “You’re the strongest person I know. And that’s saying something, since I was in the army.”