BooksBarbecue
Back Parachutes
Chapters (93)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-One
  24. Twenty-Two
  25. Twenty-Three
  26. Twenty-Four
  27. Twenty-Five
  28. Twenty-Six
  29. Twenty-Seven
  30. Twenty-Eight
  31. Twenty-Nine
  32. Thirty
  33. Thirty-One
  34. Thirty-Two
  35. Thirty-Three
  36. Thirty-Four
  37. Thirty-Five
  38. Thirty-Six
  39. Thirty-Seven
  40. Thirty-Eight
  41. Thirty-Nine
  42. Forty
  43. Forty-One
  44. Forty-Two
  45. Forty-Three
  46. Forty-Four
  47. Forty-Five
  48. Forty-Six
  49. Forty-Seven
  50. Forty-Eight
  51. Forty-Nine
  52. Fifty
  53. Fifty-One
  54. Fifty-Two
  55. Fifty-Three
  56. Fifty-Four
  57. Fifty-Five
  58. Fifty-Six
  59. Fifty-Seven
  60. Fifty-Eight
  61. Fifty-Nine
  62. Sixty
  63. Sixty-One
  64. Sixty-Two
  65. Sixty-Three
  66. Sixty-Four
  67. Sixty-Five
  68. Sixty-Six
  69. Sixty-Seven
  70. Sixty-Eight
  71. Sixty-Nine
  72. Seventy
  73. Seventy-One
  74. Seventy-Two
  75. Seventy-Three
  76. Seventy-Four
  77. Seventy-Five
  78. Seventy-Six
  79. Seventy-Seven
  80. Seventy-Eight
  81. Seventy-Nine
  82. Eighty
  83. Eighty-One
  84. Eighty-Two
  85. Eighty-Three
  86. Eighty-Four
  87. Eighty-Five
  88. Author’s Note
  89. Acknowledgments
  90. About the Author
  91. Books by Kelly Yang
  92. Back Ad
  93. About the Publisher

Here we go again, life by committee. I roll my eyes. No wonder my dad never comes to these things. My grandmother puts up a hand to silence the chatter. She takes my hand in hers and peers into my eyes. I’m hopeful she’ll take my side, but instead she says, “Your mother’s right; you can’t hit a stone with an egg.”

I yank my hand away, flushing.

“She won’t. James and I will make sure of it,” my mom assures Nai Nai.

My grandmother turns to my mom. “And how is that husband of yours?”

I glance over at her. Mom’s smile has vanished, and she’s folding the napkin in her hands, trying to buy some time as she works out the best response.

Life by committee’s a bitch.

Two

Dani

East Covina, California

Do you ever get the feeling like everyone’s looking at you but no one actually sees you? I mean, they see you—they see you standing on the stage, receiving your headmistress commendation; your frizzy hair; your ratty shoes; your mom in the back squirreling away stale cookies—that they see, but they don’t see you.

“Dammit, Dani, how many times do I have to tell you?” my band teacher, Mr. Rufus, yells, “It’s an F sharp, not an F! And please clean out your flute. That sound you’re making—that noise—that’s the sound of spit!”

My face turns red as I reach for my wipe. The entire band sits back and lets out an exaggerated sigh as they wait for me to finish.

“Ever heard of lessons?” Connor, who sits next to me, mutters under his breath.

Connor O’Brien. I remind myself he wears tighty-whities stained yellow and keeps his mom’s Crisco cooking oil under his bed to use as lube. I know because I clean his room every Tuesday after school when he’s at lacrosse practice. I’ve probably cleaned the houses of about half the people in band, not that they would know. Everyone always books their maid for when they’re out.

Yes, I’ve heard of lessons, I want to hiss back. You ever heard of pre-foreclosure? Splitting a $3.99 cheeseburger from Burger King for dinner while your mom fills up on free soda refills?

I glance over at Zach, my other neighbor. Zach’s the captain of the American Prep swim team. He also happens to be last-chair clarinet and because I’m last-chair flute, we sit right next to each other. I’ll admit that’s one of the only reasons I like band. Unfortunately, we’ve never talked. And I’ve never cleaned his room. I’m not even sure where he lives. I think he might be a scholarship student too, like me and Ming.