Miss Mateluna. Uh, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m here to talk to you about my brother’s test. This isn’t— we can talk on the other side of the weekend. You can’t fail him. I haven’t even graded the test yet. He knows he failed. Which means there’s no way he can pass the class. Which means he won’t be able to work at the restaurant or help take care of our baby brother. He should’ve thought of that before he took the exam. Not after. But he did think of it. And he asked me to help him study. And I let him down. It’s my fault. But the consequences of his failing — they’re all of ours to deal with. The whole family. Let me understand. Are you asking me to give him a grade he doesn’t deserve? To pass him when he did failing work? To be honest, how well my brother understands physics has very little to do with the rest of his life. What has everything to do with it is how well he— we can keep our family together. The world hasn’t been very kind to us lately. And it’d be nice if someone could show Beto a little forgiveness. Actions have consequences, Lucia. And even if I can’t teach your brother physics, I can teach him that. Some of us do things as they are supposed to be done. We take time. We do the work. We come to this country legally. I’m sorry that what your parents did put you at risk. Even though it makes things worse for the rest of us who have to prove over and over again that we have the right to be here. There are no free passes. Not for your parents. Not for any of us. And not for Beto.