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
There’s a wave of laughs. Mrs. Mandalay is the Olympic champion of fund-raising. She can squeeze a quarter out of a squirrel. She once got $200 out of my mom, a check that thankfully bounced the next day. Ever since then, I’ve told my mom to stay clear of these events.
I’m up first. Mrs. Mandalay introduces me to the podium.
As I take the stage, I look out at the room full of people. Eager prospective parents mixed with bored alumni roped in to attend through guilt. I smile at all of them. To me it’s all the same. I welcome the chance to fire up any crowd.
Tonight is no exception. As I deliver my last line, the room bellows, “Bravo!” The alumni clap, while the parents’ eyes go wide. I can tell what they’re thinking—Wow. I want my kid to speak like that girl. Maybe if they come to this school, they will. One by one, they whip out their checkbooks.
“Danielle De La Cruz.” Mrs. Mandalay beams. She looks at me and nods, pleased. “We’re so proud to have students like Dani at our school, thanks to the generous donations to our annual fund!”
The crowd cheers. As Ming steps onto the stage with her violin and fills the room with the soothing sound of Brahms, the crowd takes out their phones and snaps pictures of the talented young violin prodigy.
When Ming finishes, the room erupts in thunderous applause. Ming bows and walks over to the mic with her violin. Slowly, she begins her speech, one that I’ve heard many times before, describing how she was a poor girl in a Chinese village with a love for violin, an instrument her parents neither understood nor knew how to support, when Mrs. Mandalay offered her the opportunity to come to America.
Ming looks to our headmistress. “Thank you, Mrs. Mandalay. You gave me the chance to be who I am,” she says with a smile. She delivers the line with the perfect combination of emotion, and the crowd eats it up. Mrs. Mandalay puts a hand over her heart. I make a mental note to ask Ming later, does she really mean it? Or is it just part of the performance?
Afterward, Mrs. Mandalay moves on to the live auction, and Ming and I walk offstage as parents happily drunk bid on useless items like a personalized walking tour of the city led by a high school student. I fight the urge to slump down on one of the chairs and kick off my heels, but I know I can’t. We all have our roles. Mine is to smile and say thank you.