Dan-El Padilla Peralta was 9, living in a New York City homeless shelter and "starved" for something to read when a family friend handed him a book about ancient Athens and Rome.

The quiet boy, who had few pos sessions, treasured the old text and became fascinated by the togas, maps, classic buildings and tales of an ancient world that had little to do with the poverty, drugs and violence around him.

The book led to a fascination with the classics, then a love of Latin and Greek and an unlikely admission to Princeton University. On Tuesday, Padilla will pick up his classics degree and deliver the traditional salutatorian address -- in Latin -- at Princeton's 259th commencement ceremony.

Padilla, who his professors predict will be one of the premiere classics scholars of his generation, is trying hard to relax and enjoy his graduation. But even he can't help but get caught up in the fairy tale that took him from homeless immi grant to star student at one of the top universities in the world.

"I sometimes think, 'Wouldn't it be strange if I woke up one morning and I was a 6-year-old again and it was just a dream?'" said Padilla, 21. "I don't understand why I'm here and someone else isn't."

Complicating Padilla's bright future is a secret he kept from even his closest friends for years: He is an illegal immigrant.

The native of the Dominican Republic, who was brought to the United States by his parents at age 4, revealed his status in a front- page story in the Wall Street Journal in April. Through a series of lucky breaks and sympathetic school administrators, Padilla had been able to get scholarships to both a New York City prep school and Princeton despite being in the country illegally.

Supporters of immigration reform latched on to Padilla's ex traordinary situation as an example of why laws should be rewritten to grant special status to the esti mated 65,000 undocumented children of illegal immigrants who graduate from U.S. high schools each year.

Padilla said he decided to come forward because he had won a prestigious scholarship to study classics at Oxford University in England after graduation. Though he wants desperately to go, if he leaves the U.S. as an illegal immigrant it will be unlikely he can return for at least a decade under current laws.

That means Padilla would not get to see his mother and younger brother, who live in New York, or return to teach at a U.S. university and pursue his research in classics. Even if he skips Oxford and stays in the United States, it would be nearly impossible for an illegal immigrant to get a university job and apply for the grants needed to do research in his field.

"The country would lose a model citizen and ... an incredibly important and distinguished scholar in classics," said Denis Feeney, chairman of Princeton's classics department. "It's a heartbreaking situation."

Padilla's passion for ancient history and his mastery of literary analysis, linguistics, Latin and Greek make him one of the most promising scholars to pass through Princeton in recent memory, said Feeney, who taught Padilla in several courses.

Friends and professors have rallied around Padilla, raising more than $10,000 for his legal defense fund. Padilla recently filed an application with the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, asking for an exemption that would grant him a belated stu dent visa. His lawyer argued Padilla's extraordinary childhood, including poverty and homelessness, made him unable to apply to be a citizen as a child.

His 200-page application included letters of support from several prominent people, including Sens. Charles Schumer (D- N.Y.) and Hillary Clinton (D- N.Y.) and Rep. Rush Holt (D-12th Dist.).

The attention has gotten Padilla's immigration application pushed through the red tape to the desks of top immigration officials in Washington, D.C. But Padilla's lawyer has been told by immigration officials that the ap plication will probably be rejected.

A spokeswoman for the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services declined to comment on Padilla's case.

Whatever happens, not having to hide his homeless past and im migration status any more has been liberating, Padilla said.

"I've been a private person for a very long time," he said. "After the past few months, I've been more comfortable ... with people reading or listening to the narra tion of my life story."

COMFORT, THEN STRUGGLE
The story began in Santo Domingo, the capital of the Dominican Republic, where Padilla was born in 1984 to a middle-class family. His parents decided to come to the United States in 1989 so Padil la's pregnant mother could be treated for diabetes-related problems.

Maria Elena Peralta gave birth to her second son, Yando, in New York, but suffered complications. Padilla said the family ended up staying in Washington Heights dur ing her recovery, letting their six- month tourist visas expire.

The family applied for an extension. "We never heard back from the service, which may have had to do with the fact that we were moving around," Padilla said.

Padilla's father worked as a cab driver, factory worker and food stand operator, but eventually be came frustrated with being unable to find steady work, his son said. He left his wife and young sons and returned to the Dominican Republic.

The boys and their Spanish- speaking mother ended up in a se ries of homeless shelters and run- down apartments in some of the roughest neighborhoods in the city. Padilla's mother received public assistance checks for Yando, her American-born son, but struggled to feed her boys.

Meanwhile, young Padilla be came obsessed with any book he could find on the ancient world or Greek myths.

"I wanted to read so bad," he said. "It just was a way for me to think outside my immediate context."

He fell in love with Homer's "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey," casting himself as a "mini-Odys seus" on his own epic adventure as his family bounced through nearly a dozen shelters and apartments. "For reasons I really don't understand, I became captivated by all of this," he said.

Eventually, the family was befriended by a Manhattan man from a wealthy family who helped Padilla land a scholarship to the Collegiate School, an upscale Manhattan prep school that John F. Ken nedy Jr. attended. Padilla finally found classes in the classics and Latin as well as others who shared his love for books.

"I felt I was in this safe haven for nerds," he said.

Collegiate's counselor encouraged Padilla to pursue his dream of applying to Princeton, which he had visited during a debate tournament. He was mildly surprised when he got in with a full scholarship, despite disclosing on his ap plication that he was not a U.S. citizen and had no student visa.

"The university does not take documentation into account when making decisions about admis sion," said Cass Cliatt, a Princeton spokeswoman.

The Ivy League school also doesn't keep track of how many illegal immigrants are enrolled be cause no government agency re quires universities to report a number.

A POPULAR FIGURE
Padilla said he felt at home at Princeton and quickly started win ning awards for his academic work. As he kept his past hidden, he blended in well among his wealthier classmates and became a popular figure on campus. He is the first person people would call for a party or a get-together, said Princeton senior Kelly Sanabria, who has known Padilla since they were 12.

"He's just very integral to the Princeton social scene," said Sana bria, 22. "He's perhaps the most awesome person I've ever met. That sounds like hyperbole, but it's true."

Padilla's small dorm room is decorated with a mix of posters from the movie "Scarface," photos of his family and quotes from "The Iliad." Because his undocumented status keeps him from getting a part-time job, he said he relies on his grants from Princeton and small loans to cover his campus expenses.

Sanabria said Padilla would rarely let his studies interfere with his busy personal life. He would often stay out late with friends, then come back to his dorm room and start his school work at 4 or 5 a.m.

Though he is scheduled to start classes at Oxford in the fall, Padilla will remain on campus this summer to polish his senior thesis. His 130-page paper on four Roman grave stones owned by the university is good enough to be published in a professional journal, according to his professors.

He is also making periodic trips back to New York, where his brother is enrolled as a scholarship student in a private school in the Bronx and his mother is working as a part-time house cleaner and tak ing English lessons. The family is facing eviction from its three-bedroom Spanish Harlem apartment, adding to Padilla's stress.

His family and friends will be in the stands Tuesday when Padilla serves as the commencement salutatorian, an honor Princeton awards every year to a top graduate who has studied Latin.

In one of Princeton's oldest traditions, the salutatorian delivers a salutation speech in Latin. Students are given a copy of the English translation in their programs with notations of where to laugh, applaud, boo and hiss. The idea is to dupe parents into thinking all Princeton graduates are fluent in Latin.

The speech is traditionally light-hearted. Padilla, who finished his draft Wednesday, promises his address will not disappoint, despite all the weighty is sues he has been dealing with in his personal life.

"It's definitely been a crazy year," Padilla said. "This is an interesting way to end it."