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
She goes to her room and comes back two minutes later with a syllabus from English III.
“How do you have this?” I ask. I thought she was in AP English.
“I . . . tutor a guy who’s in it,” she says. “They’re probably going to test you on how to analyze literature, since that’s what they’re mostly learning in English Three. Poems, narrative nonfiction, that sort of stuff.”
I take my phone out and snap a picture of the syllabus. “Thanks.” I smile, handing it back to her. “If I have any questions, I’ll come and ask you.”
She takes her time responding. The two of us listen to the roar of the washing machine while I worry if I might have overstepped. But then she says, “Okay.”
“Who do you tutor?” I ask.
She blushes. “Just some guy.”
Twenty
Dani
Ming laughs hysterically on the phone when I tell her Claire didn’t know how to do the laundry.
“They live in such a different world, the fuerdai,” she says, using a Chinese term to describe the rich second-generation kids of China. “In China, they would sometimes buy thirty tickets or rent out an entire movie theater just so they wouldn’t have to sit next to the rest of us.”
“Wow,” I say, glancing at the wall Claire and I share. I wonder how Claire feels, not just having to sit next to me but to live with me.
“But not Florence though,” Ming says. “We’ve been texting on WhatsApp. You know she lives in a house all by herself? Yesterday she invited me over there and she actually cooked dinner for us.”
“Wow! So you asked her out?” I ask.
“She asked me out,” Ming informs me. “Last week. I wanted to tell you, but you were going through all that stuff with Heather.”
I stare into the phone. “I’m here for you. You know that, right?” I ask. It’s important to me that Ming understands no matter what kind of shit I’m going through, I always want to hear her happy news. “So? How was it?”
“It was great! She’s different from the other parachutes.”
I nod, thinking about the term. Lately, I’ve been thinking it doesn’t apply just to foreign students. Heather and her friends are kind of parachutes too. They all have trust funds and safety nets protecting them if they fall. All I have is me. And if things don’t work out for me, I’d free fall.
“By the way, today, when Kevin came into my room without knocking to give me a package from my parents, I asked him to please knock next time.”
“Good for you!” I say to Ming. It’s so great to hear she’s standing up to Underwear Kevin. I ask her what was in the package, and she says just some Chinese medicine.