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
“Oh, honey, I wish I could,” she says. “But I just got back! I can’t leave your father all alone again so soon, you know that.”
“How is he?” I ask.
“He’s been good,” she says. “Anyway, I’m sure Jay will be back soon.”
That’s my line, I want to say. That’s what I’m supposed to say to her. As we hang up, I think about all the days my mom used to just sit by the window and wait and wait and wait for my dad. I used to wonder how she could do that, and now I’m doing it too. By the third day, I really start to fall apart. I want to go home, but I want to stay at his house, if only to scream at him when he gets home. I toss my swimsuit in my bag and head to the pool. It’s a Saturday and Zach is there again.
“I’ve missed you!” he says, taking off his goggles. “How’ve you been?”
I don’t respond, and he swims over to me. “Shitty week?”
I nod.
“I’m sorry,” he says. His face brightens. “You want to know what I do when I’m having a shitty week?” He pushes himself out of the pool and reaches out a hand. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”
I stare up at him in his wet trunks, water dripping down on me.
Hesitantly, I reach up. For the rest of the afternoon, we take turns doing belly flops in the empty pool. It’s the only time in the last three days when I don’t think about Jay.
Jay finally resurfaces the next day. He comes home on Sunday bearing flowers and bullshit, about how he was hanging out with his friends when his grandpa called and said he wasn’t feeling well, so he had to hop on a flight and go home to see him. I know it’s bullshit, because his passport was here the whole time. I know because I’d gone through his entire room, looking for incriminating photos of him and his 129 meis.
I walk over to the bureau, find the passport and throw it at him. He picks it up and puts it back on the bureau but doesn’t offer any further explanation. Instead, he strips out of his clothes and goes to take a shower. I sit on the floor in the bedroom, holding his shirt up to my nose, trying to detect any traces of perfume.
Jay insists we go out. I say no. I want an explanation, not dinner. But he jumps in the car and I scramble after him, worried he’ll disappear again. I’m not through discussing this with him! He drives us down to Fashion Island, where he pulls me into Cartier.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.