Chapters (93)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- Eighty-Four
- Eighty-Five
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Books by Kelly Yang
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
I glance at Ming, who already has hers on. Her cut-off denim shorts peek out from underneath it. Rosa makes us wear these ridiculous black-and-white maid uniforms that have Budget Maid on them, complete with hat and surgical mask, like some sort of half Pilgrim, half nurse. She says they make us look professional.
“I don’t get it,” I say, reaching for mine in my locker and putting it on. “Why does the client care what we wear as long as we get the job done?”
“How many times do I have to explain it to you?” Rosa asks, cutting the air with her hands. “It’s not just about getting the job done. It’s about brand building.”
I roll my eyes. Rosa’s been taking e-MBA classes. That’s where she gets terms like that from, which she likes to throw around to remind us she’s not just a boss, she’s a CEO.
She hands me and Ming our next address, one I don’t recognize. My mom and I have this rule—if it’s a new address, I don’t go. Someone else can go and clean it for the first time, just in case there’s something dodgy with the client. But maybe it’s okay. I glance over at my mom’s sweater hanging by her locker. Ming will be there with me, and besides, I really need the money, especially if I’m going to Snider. Round-trip tickets to Boston cost $500, and that’s just for the flight, that’s not even including a hotel. Every dollar counts.
Ming stuffs the address in her pocket. Her parents aren’t here to tell her where she can and cannot clean. I don’t even think they know about her part-time maid job. She nods to Rosa and says, “Okay.”
I help Ming with the cleaning supplies, and we head to the truck. Rosa’s husband, Eduardo, drives us. As we shuttle over to the address in North Hills, where the houses are twice as expensive and the people twice as likely to accuse us of stealing, I fidget in my seat, looking over at Ming. I want to tell her what Heather and those jerks said at debate, but she has her eyes firmly glued to her window.
We arrive in North Hills and make our way up the winding driveway to the impressive Mediterranean mansion perched above. With its lush lawn and wraparound balcony overlooking sprawling views of Los Angeles, it’s got to be worth at least two to three million dollars. Property prices have been going through the roof lately. Ming points to a jade statue of a dragon near the doorstep, muttering, “Crazy-rich Asians.”
“Gotta love them!” Eduardo says, beaming. He and Rosa are big fans, both of the movie and of the people, who buy up houses in North Hills and hire Budget Maids to keep them clean. He teases Ming, “Those are your people!”