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that I’m not sure how to tell my parents I don’t even want to leave San Diego for college—I want to attend UCSD.

four
internship: fancy euphemism
for copy grommet
     
    It’s the first day of my internship with Bristol and Wentworth, LLP, and I’m stuck in the world’s worst traffic on Highway 1, sweating the fact that if things don’t clear up, I’m going to be late. Not a stellar way to impress the boss who can make or break my college apps with his letter of recommendation.
    Maybe it’s lame to be excited about an internship—especially one that will cut out three mornings of surfing every week for the next eight weeks—but this is for all the Jorges out there. Last summer, one of my surfer buds, Jorge, disappeared. I didn’t run into him for a few weeks at the beach and couldn’t reach him on his cell. He never showed up at the skate park. This feeling in my gut that something was horribly wrong got confirmed when I ran into his neighbor, who told me Jorge and his mom had been deported. And then, a couple months later, things turned worse. Someday, I’m going to kick some INS courtroom ass.
    I’ve never talked to Grace about how much this devastated me. It’s too raw. Makes me feel exposed.
    Ai . I see the exit, but traffic’s moving at the pace of a snail taking a dump. It seems like forever before I pull into the parking garage for the Wentworth building.
    By the time I open the fancy door to the office, not only am I late but I also have nasty sweat stains on the nerdy button-down Ma bought for my internship.
    The admin reels back with an unapologetic look of disgust. Then she looks down at a piece of paper and says in a snooty tone, “Ferdinand. You’re eleven minutes late, and you might want to reconsider your antiperspirant. I’m Teresa. Mr. Parker can’t stand tardiness.” Then she makes air quotes. “To be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late. And to be late is unforgivable. Now head down the hall and hope he’s not there waiting. Conference room G.”
    I hate it when people talk at me like that.
    I stand there, thinking that I pictured this way different. Where’s my funny comeback?
    She waves me off quickly. “What are you doing? Run!”
    I nod. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
    Then I walk-run down the hall, dodging suits, and say a quick prayer as I burst into the conference room. There’s a lanky Asian-looking dude and a strikingly beautiful African-American girl sitting at a long table.
    Of course, there’s the backside of Mr. Parker’s head too. “You’re late,” he says as he swivels his chair around. When he sees me, he freezes for an instant.
    “What’s going on, Ford?”
    Maybe not letting him know it was me applying was a bad idea. “Um … I’m Ferdinand?”
    An odd grin overcomes his previous expression of surprise. “Hmmm. Ford is short for Ferdinand? Well, I guess I would have already known how fortunate we are if I’d been at the interviews. I had more pressing things going on this year, like winning the Ricardo case. You’re going to miss all those awesome summer waves?”
    “Well. You know how it is.” I balance my hands up and down in the air. “Catch waves. Plan for my future. Catch waves. Plan for my future.”
    Mr. Parker nods. “I didn’t know you had drive, other than surfing. Maybe you can rub off on Grace. She’s flaking out on picking a college.” He extends his hand. We shake. “Good to have you on the team. I was impressed by your resum é . You have a lot to offer, son.”
    Wow. My eyes widen. “Thanks, sir.”
    “Meet your fellow partners in Copy Machine—Brianna and Hop.”
    Embarrassed, I wave at them both. Brianna gives me a look that says she’s not impressed and eyes my pit stains. Hop smiles and nods once.
    Mr. Parker says, “Take a seat. And today is the first and last day you’ll be late. I don’t do late. Neither do my interns. There are no free rides here—for anyone.”
    Bossman letting me know what’s up. I