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
My room, like the living room, is modest, with a queen bed, a small bureau for my clothes, and a desk. But at least it has a window, and as Dani reaches to open it, I instinctively reach for her to stop—No, it’s too polluted outside—then remember we’re not in Shanghai anymore.
“Sorry,” I say.
Dani smiles. The first smile since we arrived. I sit down on the bed—sink down, rather, it’s way softer than my bed in Shanghai—and Dani pulls up a chair. I ask her what the teachers at American Prep are like.
“Some of them are really good, like my debate coach,” she says. “Others . . . could be better.”
I inhale with jealousy at the word “coach.” And then it dawns on me. My mother and grandmother aren’t here breathing down my neck, telling me what to do. Maybe I can swim again.
“Are there a lot of Chinese kids?” I ask.
“Oh yeah,” Dani says.
Our mothers walk in. Mrs. De La Cruz sets my suitcases down, and my mother pushes down on my bed with her hand, feeling the firmness of the mattress.
“Everything looks good,” she says to Mrs. De La Cruz, who seems genuinely happy to hear my mom say that. Then my mom turns to me and says in Chinese, “So Tong’s going to take me to a hotel and—”
“Wait a minute, you’re not staying here with me tonight?” I ask.
My mom looks at me. “There’s only one bed!” she says.
“We can share,” I fire back. Frantically, I get up from the bed. Please don’t leave me here with these strangers, I plead with my eyes, at the same time readying myself for the all-too-possible scenario of her ditching me for the spa.
Mrs. De La Cruz jumps in. “You can have Dani’s room, madam. Dani and I will share. You don’t mind, do you, Dani?”
Dani scrunches her face. Oh, she minds.
“That won’t be necessary,” my mom says. “We’ll be fine in Claire’s room.”
My mom kicks off her Marni sling-back pumps, and I’m almost tempted to grab them so she can’t leave.
My mom and I sleep side by side. She tosses and turns, and despite what Mrs. De La Cruz says about how it’s a Tempur-Pedic mattress, I can feel her shifting. With every move, the contents of my stomach jerk up and down like we’re at sea. Mrs. De La Cruz made chicken afritada for dinner, a Filipino chicken stew, which, while delicious, was also heavier than I’m used to.
“Stop moving, Mom,” I whisper. “You’re making the whole bed shake.”
“I can’t help it,” she hisses back. “This bed is too soft. How can anyone sleep on something so soft?”