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
“That’s Japanese—” I start to say. Forget it! I think about what Jay said. How no matter how much money we have, we still get treated like second-class citizens here.
We pull up to Emma’s house, and I get out. She lives in a Spanish-style house with a little bonsai garden up front. Nowhere near as big as Jay’s but bigger than Dani’s and cute. Very zen, which unfortunately she is not.
She comes outside with her arms crossed, proclaiming I’m twelve minutes late. “I have piano after this, then bio, and then SAT prep,” she says. “Hurry up.”
I follow her inside. We sit down in the dining room. As I get out my laptop, Emma’s mom, Mrs. Lau, a stout and chatty woman, comes over to say hello. She offers us plates of fruit with little toothpicks stuck in them, like Tressy used to prepare. Emma obviously hasn’t told her mom about the rice, thank God.
“Thank you, auntie,” I say to her, popping a strawberry in my mouth.
“My pleasure, it’s so great to see you girls study hard together,” she says in English, smiling at me. I think back to Emma scolding her mom in the school parking lot about speaking Chinese in public. “You know Harvard only take eight percent Asian American this year?”
She shakes her head at this tragic news.
“Which is why you need to get perfect SAT,” she says to her daughter. “ACT too, just to double-prove you good.”
Emma groans. “Mom, will you leave us alone?” she asks.
“Some Asian I know, they even change their last name from Yang to Young,” she continues, showing no indications of leaving. She stares her daughter in the eye. “We Lau, we can’t do that. We clearly Chinese. That why we can’t make any mistakes!”
Wow, Asian moms are the same everywhere.
“Thanks, auntie,” I say, smiling. “These strawberries are really good!” I know the quickest way to get rid of a Chinese mom is to compliment her on her food and ask her for more.
“They were on sale at Whole Foods!” She beams at Emma and adds, “I borrowed Auntie Ling’s Prime membership.”
Emma shakes her head, clearly embarrassed. Mrs. Lau looks at me.
“I’ll pack some up for you to take home!”
Emma exhales after her mom disappears into the kitchen, sliding down in her chair. “Oh, thank God. She drives me up the wall . . .”
I nod knowingly at her. “I have one too.”
Emma glances at me but doesn’t say anything.