Because You're Different ✔

13. Sweet potatoes

Nathan

I'd been home a lot for the past six months. Last summer, I had noticed how lonely Sam was without me and vowed to be there more, resulting in a steady decline in my grades. My mentor had been warning me for a while now: if I didn't do something about it soon, I was going to fail. So, I decided to put a lot of work into the project for my Defining Discrimination course, something that June was very interested in, for obvious reasons. She was too smart for her own good, that girl, sometimes even understanding the academic articles I had to read.

Surprisingly, I found myself getting invested in the material; it'd been long since I'd done anything for college without disliking it. When I was rewarded with an A+, I felt a sense of pride, something I definitely wasn't used to. June cooked for us that night — she blushed furiously when I told her that grade was partly the result of her help, and Sam had rolled his eyes, saying "It's only one grade. Thousands of people get A+'es every day".

"Who hurt you?" June had said, but he was right. One A+ wasn't going to fix all of my C's, it was only a beginning. And now that June was here, strictly speaking, I didn't have an excuse to go home directly after lectures and seminars anymore. Sam wasn't alone. He was fifteen. He'd made more friends at that party. Yeah, law was still not my thing, but I was able to study it at one of the best universities in the US. To not exploit that chance would be an insult to anyone who hadn't gotten in.

I needed to put more work in and start to be more serious when it concerned my future. I was never going to be able to finish in time to obtain legal custody of Sam; however, I could try finding a job before he left high school. That way, I could at least pay for the college education of his choice, instead of him having to go to law school because that's the only thing our parents would finance.

That was why when my mentor told us they were looking for an extra 2L to assist on the pro bono case for an illegal immigrant from Mexico, I surprised him by immediately asking if I could apply.

"For real, man?" he'd said.

"Yeah, for real."

"Okay, that's great! I don't know what happened to you, but whatever it was, I'm glad it did. I thought we were going to lose you, to be honest."

Yeah, I'd thought the same not long ago.

The team existed out of two more 3L and one more 1L; their former 2L partner had had to take a step back due to burnout. Imagine spending two years at law school only to have to quit because you overworked yourself. Again, I felt guilty for getting in in the first place. Yeah, I'd had a high GPA, but it wasn't like I'd ever gone out of my way to get it. I still suspected my parents had something to do with it.

All of that didn't matter, though. Because when I met our client, nineteen-year-old Cleo Ibarra Luevano, I knew I was going to do my absolute fucking best to get her out of this mess.

She was facing deportation — the other students, who had known her for several months now, were desperate and sleep-deprived. Cleo had tried to take her own life only two weeks ago, fearing that going back to Mexico meant having to go back to her abusive husband. I had to try everything, everything in my power to keep her safe in the USA — or, at least safer, and maybe, someday, happier.

I was trying to concentrate on the documents in front of me. The letters were swimming before my eyes, and every time my gaze landed on Cleo's name, I saw Lena before me, body swinging back and forth on a rope above the stairs in her parents' house. I hadn't actually found her; she'd been home for the holidays, and I was celebrating New Year's with Sam. Nevertheless, I could picture it. In the beginning, I'd forced myself to do it to pay for not being able to save her. Two years later, though, I didn't ever want to imagine it again. Cleo's hopeless attempt was digging up old demons, old demons I'd rather leave buried.