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
About that. I’m glad we’re finally having this conversation. I bite my lip and look up at him. “Why didn’t you?” I ask.
Jay puts down the napkins. He pulls me in and kisses my ear. “Because you’re too sweet to be doing something like that,” he says. “Besides, I could tell you were getting kind of tired.”
I throw up my hands in protest. “I was not!”
I glance down at his phone and ask shyly, “Did you ever do stuff with those other 129 girls?”
He shifts uncomfortably.
“Just tell me . . . ,” I prod. I kiss him lightly on the arm. “I promise I won’t be mad.”
The oven timer goes off. Jay looks relieved. He puts on the oven mitt and retrieves the tray of caramelized carrots.
“Can we talk about it later?” he asks. “Look at all this great food I made. . . .”
I look down at the succulent carrots glistening on the table. “Okay.”
The dinner is delicious, but we don’t end up talking about the 129 meis later because as soon as we finish eating, Jay receives a text. He tells me it’s from a friend and he needs to go and meet up with them in LA. I follow him around the house as he grabs his keys and his wallet and gets ready to go.
“When will you be back?” I ask him.
He shrugs.
“I don’t know,” he says. “But I wouldn’t wait up.”
I furrow my eyebrows. Wait a minute, is he planning to spend the night? Before I can even ask, he’s out the door.
I stay up late waiting for him to come home and eventually drift to sleep on the couch. When I wake up, he’s not there. He’s not at school the next day either. I try his cell, but he doesn’t answer. Jess and the girls throw out wild theories of where he’s at.
“He’s at some new Coachella we don’t know about,” Jess says.
“He didn’t want to invite you because it’s this weird music they make from rain and ice, and he didn’t want you to make fun of him,” Nancy adds. Jess laughs so hard, she nearly spits out her water.
A small smile escapes. Rain Coachella sounds a lot better than the raging orgy I imagined him at with all his meis.
“Or maybe he got abducted. The bad guys are holding him for ransom,” Florence guesses. “His parents are probably wiring the money right now!”
That night, when he’s still not back, I call my mom and ask her what to do. She’s back in Shanghai and fretting over the three pounds she gained eating out in New York.
“He’s probably off on a boys’ trip or something,” she says.
I sigh into the phone. “Can you come over?” I ask.