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
“We only recruit the finest!” Mrs. Mandalay declares. “And the ones who teach the international students are especially patient.”
My eyebrows bunch together as I turn to her. “Wait a minute, we’re not in the same classes as the American students?”
Mrs. Mandalay laughs. “Of course not, there are major language barriers, for one thing. And culturally, we just find it easier . . . for everyone.”
I glance at my mom, but she’s already moved on to other questions, specifically about dining. As she and Mrs. Mandalay talk, I fall quiet, thinking about what Mrs. Mandalay said. It’s odd to move all the way over here to go to an American school and not take classes with American kids.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Mandalay, are you saying I’m not allowed to take classes with the local kids?” I interrupt.
The question catches Mrs. Mandalay by surprise, and she stops walking. She chews the inside of her cheek, glancing down at her watch. When she looks up, she’s all smiles. “No, of course not! I’m not saying that at all! You just need to test into them, once you’ve proven you have a sufficient English proficiency.”
Okay, that sounds better. Mrs. Mandalay jokes to my mom, “Your daughter’s feisty—I like that! Are you sure she’s not American?”
“Good God, I hope not!” my mom replies with a laugh. “We want an American education, not an American daughter.”
After the tour, Mrs. Mandalay takes us to her office and gives me my schedule. I’m in English foundation, precalc, world history, biology, and psychology. She assigns me a student mentor, Jess Zhang, who comes over to the office looking like she’s dressed for Milan Fashion Week. She’s wearing the latest Fendi boots I’d had my eye on for weeks and greets my mom, “Ah yi hao.”
My mom smiles. “So polite!” she remarks to me. My mom extends a warm hand and introduces us.
“Claire, you’re from Shanghai?” Jess says in Mandarin, her eyes brightening. “I’m from Shanghai too! Well, originally, until we moved to Wuhan.”
“Jess, do you mind taking Claire to class?” Mrs. Mandalay asks.
Jess nods at Mrs. Mandalay and says, “Follow me,” in English. I note her English is nearly perfect, like mine. No accent. I wonder if she had a Filipina nanny too growing up, or did her mom just cram her full of tutors?
“C’mon, let’s go, we’re going to be late,” Jess says.
I glance at my mom and muster a brave smile. This is it. This is what she wanted. For a second, she looks like she’s having second thoughts. Regret washes over her face.
“She’s going to do great here,” Mrs. Mandalay assures her.
And the moment passes. My mom smiles at me and wishes me good luck.
“So you know any other parachutes here?” Jess asks as she walks.
“Parachute?” I ask.