Free Point Me to Tomorrow by Veronica Chambers Page A

an hour. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d be late. But before she could remember the universal symbol for “hang loose, see you later,” Mr. Stevens gave her an out.
    He stood up and put his hand out for a high five. “Up top, Cruz,” he said.
    Alicia tried not to look relieved. Surfing lessons in the middle of her megabusy senior year? She’d have to find a polite way to get out of them. She gave Mr. Stevens a high five and went off to meet her boyfriend.

THE CRUZ FAMILY room was a big open space that consisted of a kitchen and a living-and-dining space. The room had floor-to-ceiling windows on one side and a glass door that led out to the pool. Alicia’s parents collected photographs by Latin American artists; the walls were covered with brightly colored depictions of men, women, and children from places ranging from Mexico City to Montevideo. The family’s schedule was increasingly hectic, but with Alicia’s older brother off at college, her mother insisted that they eat dinner together at least three days a week. This was one of those nights.
    Although Alicia complained about her mother’s summoning her home when she really wanted to grab a bite with Gaz or her friends, she loved the family dinners. And ever since Maribelle had started dating Hiro, a chef at Nobu Miami Beach, the family had been treated to an array of new and impressive Japanese meals. Tonight, the menu consisted of nabe udon , a big clay hot pot of noodles and seafood.
    Alicia’s parents often changed before dinner, but it had been a busy week. Her father had barely had time to loosen his tie before sitting down, and her mother had come dashing in from a meeting that had run late; she had quickly kicked off her pumps and made a giant bib out of a linen napkin, so as not to spill anything on her silk blouse.
    Alicia felt like the parent as she sat patiently at the table waiting for them. “Relax,” she said, using on them the word they had used on her for years. “The food’s not going to run off the table.” Her mother and father laughed.
    â€œWhere have I heard that advice before?” Mrs. Cruz teased.
    As Alicia filled her bowl, she told her parents about her college adviser. “He’s like a surf dude in a suit who’s really good at math.”
    â€œThat doesn’t sound so bad to me,” her mother replied.
    Her father agreed. “Sounds like a well-balanced guy.”
    Alicia sighed. “Well, he wants me to come to a surf class he’s teaching on Saturday.”
    â€œIs it for C. G. High students?” her mother asked.
    â€œNope, it’s for small-business owners,” Alicia explained. “It’s some ‘ride the wave, be on board,’ business/surfing thing he does. I really don’t want to go. I just haven’t figured out a way out of it.”
    â€œWhat a wonderful opportunity,” her mother said, in between bites of udon noodles.
    â€œAnd a real honor to be asked,” her father added.
    Alicia poured herself a glass of cold green tea. “I know, I know. But for some reason, I’m a little nervous,” she admitted. “Hopefully I can convince Carmen and Jamie to go with me.”
    Somehow, her mother had managed to make the big napkin tucked into her blouse look elegant—stylish, even. “You know it’s good to get out of your comfort zone sometimes,” she asserted. Then, segueing a little awkwardly to a more pressing matter, she added, “Speaking of which, how are those college applications going?”
    Alicia shrugged and tapped her chopsticks against her plate. “It’s all fine,” she mumbled.
    Her mother looked concerned. It wasn’t like Alicia to be so evasive. Even so, and despite their own high-achieving careers, Marisol and Enrique Cruz made every effort not to be pushy when it came to their kids. This was a delicate balance—nurturing success without