Do you want to go to the boys club where the ­testosterone lingers like garlic chicken leftovers? Do you want to go to McDonald’s where dreams and futures are ground up like the beef in the freezer? How about outside, where the “ghetto” is friendly to ­natives and hostile to outsiders like an unseen but always-present spirit?

Why not? I ask as I shuffle my feet, a million problems in my mind but smiling as if I couldn’t care less. I wave to the “gangsters,” “thugs,” and “hustlers” of the neighborhood. Why not?

I need to relax. I’ll have a stroke if I worry – brother is in jail and sister is pregnant yet again. So why not? I deserve it. I never knew there could be pressure to succeed at 14. It sucks when you have to be the first in your family to attend college.

Broken bottles lie forsaken and battered on the street, a bag lady curses out pigeons in the distance. This is the other side of success, the not-so-glamorous world that many experience. For some, it leads to ruin and despair. College is my only hope. I lost my best friend to this ugly yet beautiful world; I owe it to him.

Everyone is counting on me, my cousins on the corner, my friends who may not have the opportunity, and my late friend. I am determined not to let them down, and my ambition will drive me through others’ expectations and propel me in a successful jump into life after college.

So when I ask myself in the mirror, Do you want to go down in history as the first person in your family to ­excel, despite widespread inner-city clichés that make this journey seem trite? I say to this prominent ultimatum in my life, Why not?