LENNY

The first day of the winter holiday and we had to come to school.

I didn't mind.

It was an opportunity to see everyone without being completely stressed. I could wish everyone a happy Christmas, pop by Mrs. Hudson's office and give her some treats as her dogs' Christmas gifts, and kiss my girlfriend at random times while cleaning the auditorium stage. In the background evermore was playing on low volume and I hummed along.

We moved on to the art studio where on the weekend, parents could marvel at their children's artwork. On Saturday, after the last performance, I went into the studio and put a folded piece of paper with a poem on it on the back of Sofia's portrait of Bonnie. I hoped for her to find it when she was home and alone. It was a small poem I scribbled down when I was walking the rows and rows of artwork, always coming back to Sofia's. I wrote about how I admired her and her talent, that I was in awe of what she created.

When she was now taking the canvas off the wall, the piece of paper fell to her feet. She bent down to pick it up and when she noticed it was addressed to her, she started unfolding it.

I caught her hand. "Don't open it here."

She looked at me confused but shrugged her shoulders, kissed my temple, and crammed the poem into her back pocket. Her hand, once free, found its way to my cheek. I leaned into it and said, so low I didn't think she would even hear it, "I love you."

"I know," Sofi said, winked, and let me go. "I wanted to tell you, I decided to apply to MIT after all."

With her still holding the portrait in one hand, I didn't dare hug her so instead I said, "You're going to be the death of me."

"But you love me."

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't push it."

SOFI

Lenny and I arranged a big family dinner at her grandparents'. Francisco was supposed to stay until New Year's and hopefully, we'd have a solution for his situation until then. He was helping the twins set the table whereas Lenny and I were in the kitchen, helping Mr. Collins Sr. arrange the food.

Mrs. Collins and my mom were cornering Lenny's dad in the living room. When Lenny stared at them and stopped in motion, I poked her gently. "It'll be fine. Let them do their thing."

"Hija de mi vida, ¿en qué andas?" Santiago asked, appearing at my side, pointing at the strange constellation on the sofa.

"Mom and Mrs. Collins offered; don't you remember?"

"I hope it does some good."

"It will," I say emphatically.

Instead of responding to our conversation, Lenny declared the food to be ready and we made our way to the dining table. I looked around seeing the faces of family and friends and my girlfriend and thought about how I came here thinking that my last year of high school was going to be terrible.

I reached out for Lenny's hand and she took it. It wasn't perfect or even close. But I was content with where we landed.