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 hustle across the field to Mrs. Mandalay’s office. She sent me an urgent email to meet; I’m assuming it’s to talk about Snider. Zach calls me as I’m walking.
“Hey,” I say. “Did you read it?” I posted my anonymous piece on xomegan.com last night and sent him the link, figuring my writing can finally fill him in on what my mouth can’t seem to.
“Where is it?” he asks. “The link doesn’t work. I’ve been looking for it all day and I can’t find it.”
I stop walking. “What do you mean it doesn’t work?” I ask. I look down at my phone and try to load the link myself, but the page comes back with “Error—We Couldn’t Find the Page You Requested.” I must have sent the wrong link, because it was there when I checked it last night.
I glance at the time. I’m late. I tell Zach I’ll call him back later and hurry the rest of the way to Mrs. Mandalay’s office.
As soon as I walk inside, Mr. Connelly is standing there. Shit.
“What were you thinking?” Mr. Connelly asks me. I look down at the piece of paper in his hand and see the familiar logo on the top—Xomegan.
“How did you get that?” I ask.
Mrs. Mandalay informs me that one of the investors of xomegan.com is friends with the school. A private equity fund. My mind trips over itself, a traffic crash of information. How’s that possible? Mrs. Mandalay takes the essay from Mr. Connelly and reads.
“‘He took advantage of my admiration and respect for him, exploited my trust,’” Mrs. Mandalay reads my words. She shakes her head at me. “Do you know how much trouble you could have caused for the school if they hadn’t taken this down?”
“You’re lucky we don’t sue you for slander!” Mr. Connelly adds.
“It’s not slander if I’m telling the truth,” I reply, defiant eyes staring up at him. He should know, he taught it to us in debate.
Mrs. Mandalay frowns. “I thought we gave you what you wanted. You’re back on the team. You get to go to Snider. Haven’t we been good to you?”
I feel myself shrinking in the chair, as they both lay on the guilt. I think of all the things they’ve both done for me in years past—big and small—and a knot forms in my throat I can’t dissolve.
“All that time. All that energy I poured into you. And this is how you repay me?” Mr. Connelly asks.
“What about my time?” I ask. “I trusted you. I believed you.”
It’s the first time I’ve confronted him since the incident. I stare at him, as the anger burns in my eyes.