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
“Sorry, Dani. It’s my dad,” I say, excusing myself to go call him. I shake my head as I walk back to my room. It’s amazing the double standard. My dad does whatever he wants, but when it comes to what I want to do, suddenly it’s all about Gee, how’s this going to look?
I’ll tell him how it’s going to look—like I’m taking charge of my life. And it’s about time.
Twenty-Two
Dani
I browse around on WeChat, scrolling through Claire’s wall or “Moments” as they’re called on WeChat.
I stop on a pic of Claire sitting on the floor of our laundry room with a bunch of Chinese words written underneath. There’s a translate option in WeChat, and I tap it, expecting the caption to read something like, My first time doing laundry! or My roommate, Dani, helped me figure it out!
Instead, the translation that stares back at me is: Slumming it in America. Can you guys believe this is my life now? 
The words hit me hard. I thought she was starting to like living with us. I thought that day when I helped her with her laundry, we actually kind of bonded.
I scroll through her other posts. I find two others of our house, besides the laundry room one, both equally whiny and snarky. There’s one of her closet with the caption The depressing moment when you get up and realize this is your closet. 
She also snapped a pic of our sink and wrote, Drinking water from the tap because that’s what people do here. 
At dinner, I ignore Claire. We’re having spaghetti, and as she hungrily digs into her food, I fight the urge to ask, If you hate it here so much, why are you stuffing your face with my mom’s meatballs?
I take deep breaths in debate training the next day, trying to focus on the techniques Mr. Connelly went over with me in our private session. My voice builds and builds, in a palpable crescendo, as I deliver my speech in front of Heather and my other teammates.
“I believe in the power of one person to change the world, no matter who they are or where they come from. I believe in social justice, in education as a vehicle for social mobility. In standing up for the truth. Truth is what’s going to prevail over money, over greed, over nepotism and legacy and cheating.” I look to Heather as I say it. “Truth, ladies and gentleman, is ultimately how we’re going to heal our society.”
Mr. Connelly stands up and claps, not only him but all the custodian workers and technicians in the auditorium, they’re standing and they’re clapping. A smile stretches across my face, breathing it all in: the lights, the sounds, the adrenaline, the pride pulsating in my veins.