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
Maybe I’m making a bigger deal of the Mr. Connelly thing. Maybe he was just grilling me on my boyfriend in the fatherly kind of way. Aren’t dads always being weird when it comes to whom their daughters date? Not that I would know. I text Ming when I get home.
Maybe it’s like me with Underwear Kevin, Ming texts back. You just need to find a soft way of pushing back with Mr. Connelly.
I shake my head at the text. No, it’s not like you with Underwear Kevin! I can’t believe we’re even talking about Mr. Connelly, my amazing, inspiring coach, in the same breath as him. I put away my phone as Claire walks into my room and announces she got into English III.
“That’s great!” I offer. I’m happy for her, even though I’m still salty over her posts on WeChat. At least she hasn’t posted more. I’ve been checking every night.
“Too bad I didn’t get Mr. Connelly like you recommended,” she says.
I purse my lips but don’t say anything.
“Anyway, thanks again,” she says. She reaches to give me a hug.
“No problem,” I say, awkwardly hugging her back. I fight the urge to add, It’s the least I can do for you slumming it here with us.
I tell Ming about it the next day as we’re cleaning houses.
“She might have been just saying that though,” Ming says, fluffing a pillow. “Haven’t you ever done that? Say one thing to a group of people and a different thing to another?”
“No. I’m a debater. I have principles,” I insist. Of course, even as I say this, I know it’s not entirely true. I would never tell Heather and my other debate teammates that I clean houses after school.
“Well, I have,” Ming says. She picks up another pillow. “All my friends in China think I’m dating a guy here. I even made up a fake WeChat account for him.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “And what about your parents?” I ask. “You’re just never going to tell them?”
“Nope,” Ming says.
“And what if you meet the love of your life?”
Ming shrugs. “Florence hasn’t told her parents either.”
I turn off the vacuum.
“Whoa, did you just call Florence the love of your life?” I ask. I know they’ve been spending a lot of time together, but I didn’t know it was serious.
“No, I don’t know,” Ming says, shaking her head. “You know what I mean.”
I ask her how things are going between them.
“Great.” Ming beams, tugging at the sheets. “Last night, I went over and we kissed for the first time.”
I smile. “How was it?” I ask her.
“Incredible,” Ming answers. She fluffs the pillow and hugs it to her chest, closing her eyes at the memory.