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 don’t know, maybe ten? Twenty times?” I hadn’t exactly kept count, but there were a couple of weeks when she was over there nearly every night.
“Twenty times?” He punches the steering wheel, a loud beep erupts from the car. “Jesus Christ.”
I won’t lie. It feels satisfying to be able to hurt him as much as he’s hurt me.
“She told me she broke it off,” he says.
“Well, she didn’t. I saw her go over there after she came back from the pool.”
“After she came back from the pool?” He bites down on his knuckles. “After we—? She told me I was her first!”
He presses his lids with his fingers, and tears drip onto the steering wheel. I look away. I know he’s in pain, but it hurts so much that he has no idea what I’m going through. How I’m feeling in all this.
“I was at the pool too,” I mutter.
Zach opens his eyes, cheeks coloring. “What?” He looks over at me. “You saw us?”
“I came by to tell you something . . .”
Zach blinks in confusion. I debate whether to even say it now. Admitting my feelings seems moot. But not admitting them feels like something I might regret forever.
“I liked you, in case you hadn’t noticed. And I thought maybe you . . .”
Zach shakes his head.
“I just assumed . . . you know, because we were spending so much time together,” I ramble on, justifying my hypothesis. Stop talking. Stop talking.
“Yeah, because we’re good friends,” he says by way of explanation. We sit for a long time in the hot, stifling silence. I feel the burn of the sun on my legs. Zach finally turns to me. “What am I going to do?” he asks.
I want to tell him, Let her go. You deserve better. For me. But I know that’s not what he wants to hear. “You’ll get through this,” I say instead. “And you’ll come out stronger.”
Zach shakes his head. “But I don’t want to come out stronger,” he says.
“Yeah, well, sometimes we don’t have a choice,” I snap, opening the door to the car and getting out.
At the spring concert that night, Zach avoids my gaze as he holds his clarinet stiff in his hands. No sound seems to be coming out of it. I’m not sure if he’s even playing it. I look over at Ming. She looks beautiful in her black concert dress. Her eyes close as she plays, like she’s in her own private world. I hope it went well with her parents today when she told them about Florence.