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
Nancy picks up the LV bag she’s holding and shows us. “All knockoffs from Shenzhen or rented from online.” She pulls out the rental card from the inside pocket of the leather bag.
Jess gasps. “You rented this?” she asks, taking the bag in her hand. “Why?”
The answer, too embarrassing to say, was for us. I toss the bags aside and pull Nancy in for a hug.
“You don’t have to rent that stuff,” I say.
“That’s easy for you guys to say. You already have it!” Nancy says. Her eyes slide over to her desk, where her wallet lies open. Both her Visa and Mastercard are cut up into a thousand pieces, next to a pair of scissors. I think back to all the times she said she forgot to move her credit card from one bag to another. “I don’t know how it got so out of control . . .”
“You should have just told us,” Jess says, shaking her head at Nancy. “I would have totally lent you some of my—”
“No,” I say, cutting Jess off. That’s not the thing to say. I look into Nancy’s eyes and tell her, “It doesn’t matter what you carry.”
Nancy peers over at Jess, whose eyes flit around the room at all the fake bags that litter the floor. I can tell she’s trying hard to be supportive while also trying to stay true to herself, someone who would never be caught dead buying knockoffs.
Florence’s small voice chimes in. “I have something to tell you guys too.”
I turn to her, fully expecting her to come out, but instead, she says, “My parents aren’t who I said they are. . . .”
“Your dad’s not a hedge fund manager?” Jess asks.
“I mean he is, but . . .” Her chest rises and falls. “I’m . . . I’m his illegitimate daughter.”
Jess’s eyes go wide. She stares at Florence, the flesh-and-bones incarnation of her most painful scar. I can feel the heat of Jess from the other side of the bed.
“That’s why he sent me here. To hide me . . .” Florence looks down, her eyelashes flooding with tears. “I know it’s a lot. If you guys don’t want to be friends with me anymore, I’ll understand.”
The room falls silent. As I reach out a hand to Florence, Jess gets up, grabs her car keys and her bag, and starts walking out.
“Jess, what are you doing?” I ask.
She holds up a hand. “I’m sorry, I need to process this,” she says.
That night, as I get ready for dinner with my mom and Jay, I think about Nancy and Florence and how I had them pegged but I was totally wrong. I think about Nancy, quietly renting and returning bags, running up a huge credit card bill her parents can’t afford, just so she can feel like she’s one of us.