Page 122 of Pride High 2: Orange

“Then maybe I’ll start my own business after I graduate,” he shot back.

“If that’s your plan,” his father replied, “then you should have tried harder in the finances course you took. Although you’ll have plenty of opportunity to learn the ropes when you come work for us.”

“What?” Omar cried, not intending to sound so mortified by the idea. His parents busted their asses. The business was their big thing. Nothing bored him and his sister more than when they talked shop at the dinner table. Which was often. But he did admire their dedication, because he felt the same way about his own goals.

“You’ll only be there to lend a hand,” Anja said gently, “and so we can help with your homework.”

“After school each day,” Yousef clarified. “You can use our office to get your homework done. Once you have, you’ll help out around the store. We’ll get your grades up and teach you the family business at the same time.”

“But I don’t—” he began to protest.

“We want you to have options,” Anja interrupted. “For your future. If you want to get into a film school, you’ll need more than just an A in journalism.”

“And failing that, you can come work for us. Which isn’t a fate worse than death like you seem to think it is. Jafari Eyes puts a roof over our heads and food on the table.”

“I know,” Omar said, noticing how offended his dad was becoming. “I have a lot of respect for what you guys do. I want to follow in your footsteps. But on my own path.”

“As we keep telling you,” Yousef said, “you’ll need experience and good grades to get anywhere. Working for the family business will help you achieve those dreams.”

How could he argue with that? And yet he had to try, because too much was on the line. “I’ve already applied for a bunch of jobs,” he lied.

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” his father said dismissively.

“Do any of them look hopeful?” Anja asked.

Omar nodded. “I was expecting to get a callback today.”

“From where?” his father challenged.

“A couple different places,” he mumbled in response. “Can’t I follow up on them at least? Give me one more chance. I’ll get a job and fix my grades, I promise. Just let me do it my way.”

“I feel like I’ve heard this song before,” Yousef said before turning to his wife. “The beat is very familiar. Should we get up and dance?”

Anja smiled before turning her attention on him again. “If you don’t get a job this weekend, you’ll come work for us,” she said firmly. “As for your grades, we’ll be checking with your teachers halfway through the semester. That way there will still be time to get you back on track. We won’t let you be held back like poor Diego was.”

He never should have told them about that. “I won’t let you down,” he swore.

His mother’s tone was kind, but the message was clear. “This really is your last chance. We aren’t going to let you fail. You might not thank us for it now, but you will later in life.”

Omar swallowed and nodded. Once his parents were done with him, he went upstairs to his room and called Anthony to cancel their plans to hang out. Then he went to his closet and pulled out a black sweater that made him look classy—according to his best friend anyway—and tried to make himself presentable in the bathroom mirror.

“Now or never,” he said to himself, and not for the first time.

This really was it though. Which was made even more apparent when his father drove him downtown, lecturing along the way.

“Growing up means accepting difficult truths,” Yousef claimed.

Omar didn’t want to give up on his dreams. Not before he’d had a chance to make them come true. He waited until his father’s car had disappeared down the street before he walked to the sandwich shop next to Right Round Records. He didn’t see the “help wanted” sign in the window anymore. And he’d never filled out an application while it was still up. Although it didn’t hurt to ask.

He waited in line with the rest of the customers, since he didn’t know what else to do with himself. When he got to the register, the teenage girl behind the counter eyed him wearily. “What can I get you?” she asked.

“Are you guys still hiring?”

“Umm. I’m not sure.”

“Can you check?”

She glanced at the line of customers behind him. Then she sighed. “Let me ask my manager.”