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Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. EPILOGUE
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

“Grandma had so many dreams,” I say, my heart breaking into one million pieces. “Was there ever... Was there ever any chance? Was she just being a dreamer, like Mom said?”

“There’s nothing wrong with dreaming, love. Your great-grandmother Elisa was a dreamer, too. Didn’t she dream the inn she’d inherited could become a bakery? She dreamed of building a home for herself and Julieta. A home that’s your mother’s and yours now. Against all odds, here you are now, living that woman’s dream.”

Dona Selma holds me by the shoulders so I’ll look at her. When I meet her eyes, I can almost let myself find comfort in her words. But how can a dream survive in the face of so many obstacles?

10

MONDAY, APRIL 25

Professora Carla Pimentel claps her hands to startle sleepy students awake on Monday morning.

“Listen up!” she says. “I know everyone is stressing out about the last quiz, but I have good news for you. I’ve spoken with a few concerned parents, and I thought it would be nice to give everyone a chance to earn extra credit.”

Pimentel glances at me and I get the sinking feeling in my stomach that she’s saying this specifically for me. Concerned parents? This feels a lot like something Mom would do.

“So, here’s a little challenge for you,” she says, turning around to write an equation on the whiteboard. “Whoever manages to answer this can get an extra point on last Friday’s quiz.”

The quiz I left halfway through to go to Grandma’s funeral.

My stomach twists. I don’t want my teachers, especially Pimentel, to think that Mom has to babysit my grades. Math is my best subject anyway, and I even compete in math contests against other schools.

Diego, Paulina, and Talita all leap to their feet. I guess the end of the semester is a bit of a wake-up call for everyone. Luana stands and strides to the whiteboard like she’s a model on a catwalk. When she walks past my desk, she turns up her nose, and her Ariana Grande–style ponytail swings like a pendulum, nearly smacking me in the face.

As much as I don’t want to do this challenge—and as embarrassing as it is to admit—I want to make Mom proud. She has been laser focused on my grades since the first grade. I understand that’s just her way of saying that she loves me, but time and time again, I’ve wondered whether there’s more for me than studying for mathematics contests and the vestibular. To Mom, the only thing that matters is carving a path toward college—becoming the first Ramires to go to college—even if I’m not sure that’s what I want to pursue...