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
We talk about Mrs. Wallace’s email. Jay’s mom says when she saw it, she was appalled and called Mrs. Mandalay right away. Huh. Maybe Mrs. Mandalay listened to her, not me.
Jay makes it clear who he listened to. “We were all cheering Claire,” Jay says proudly. Mrs. Li smiles and closes her eyes. She tells the driver to put on some music so she can relax. As the soothing voice of Diana Krall fills the car, Jay slips his hand into mine.
At dinner, Mrs. Li does not fuss with the menu. She tells the chef, who’s on a first-name basis with her, to make whatever he thinks we would like. The chef nods and disappears into the kitchen. Soon, an endless parade of mouthwatering sushi arrives along with a heavy dose of Mrs. Li’s questioning.
“So where do you live in Shanghai?” she asks.
I tell her the name of our villa complex, adding that it’s where a famous Chinese actress has her house too. Years of watching my mother name-drop has trained me well.
“Oh, yes, I know her husband,” Mrs. Li says of the actress. She turns to Jay. “They have a daughter your age, you know.”
Jay’s more interested in the tuna sashimi, which he picks up expertly with his chopsticks and holds up to my mouth.
“Try this, Claire,” he says.
I take a bite. The tuna melts on my tongue.
As I reach for a piece of sushi, Mrs. Li pulls out her phone and starts showing me pictures of their summer vacation in Tuscany.
“Here’s us on our sailboat,” she says. I know where this is going.
“And where do you guys like to summer?” Mrs. Li asks.
And there it is. I smile at her, three steps ahead. “We like to come here actually. We have a house in San Francisco,” I tell her, the answer already prepared in the car. “My parents like to go to Napa. Last summer, we spent a week in Alaska. It’s beautiful up there.” Some of it is true. We have spent summers here, but we don’t have a house in San Francisco.
“San Francisco, really,” Mrs. Li repeats to Jay, pleased. She beams at him—the first genuine smile of the evening. Underneath the table, Jay squeezes my hand.
I dab my mouth with my napkin, smiling into it. I know I passed the test.
It’s nearly ten by the time we finish eating, and instead of driving all the way back, Mrs. Li checks us into the Peninsula. She gets a suite for her and Jay and a room for me. The next morning, we all go shopping on Rodeo Drive. Mrs. Li and Jay hit Louis Vuitton, Bulgari, Bottega Veneta, Dolce & Gabbana, and Tom Ford, while I tag along behind them.