I stare at the screen, my muscles tensing. I can easily imagine her petite nose scrunched up in pity, her bleached brows knitted together—just like I can imagine that if I were to tell her I was going on a trip to Paris, or London, or Italy, she’d be expressing a very different sentiment.

Why not? I respond. It’s going to be fun.

And it will be. I’m determined to make it so, to prove her assumptions wrong. Even if it’s purely out of spite, I’m going to have the time of my life.

CHAPTER FOUR

I’m still in an optimistic mood when my parents drop me off outside the LAX gates.

“Do you see them?” my mom asks, scanning the busy area. “They said to gather here—”

“That’s them, isn’t it?” I point at the small group standing off to the side of the bag drop counters. Even through the steady streams of wailing children and tired mothers holding neck pillows and younger guys who magically all look attractive in the airport lighting, I can spot the raised blue flag with the coiling dragon printed over it. It’s the same logo that’s included in the Journey to the East itinerary I’m holding and the introductory brochure my mom’s shoving into my other hand.

“Yes. Perfect. You better go join them.” She gives my shoulder a light squeeze and steps back. “Be good, okay?”

My mom has never been one for sentimentality. Whenever my school arranged for field trips or weeklong camps, she was always the first to say goodbye while the other parents clung to their children and wiped at their eyes.

The same cannot be said of my dad, who pulls me into a fierce hug.

“We’ll miss you,” he says. I’m so tall that he has to stretch his arms to fully reach over my shoulders, but I’ve never felt safer, more at ease. “If anything goes wrong, or if you get hurt, or if you feel sad, just call us, okay? Anytime. We’ll book the first ticket there and fetch you ourselves.”

“Okay, okay, stop it,” my mom tells him, clicking her tongue. “You’ll embarrass her in front of her new peers.”

“He won’t embarrass me,” I say firmly, hugging my dad back tighter. “I’ll miss you two as well.”

When I finally let go, there’s this weird, queasy sensation in my gut, like I’m already homesick. But I don’t let any of that show on my face. I just smile and walk away and wave until I can’t see them anymore.

Until I find myself standing in front of the group I’ll be spending the next two weeks with.