In Vietnam, Elle’s mother had always been considered the pretty one. Her uncles told her, “Before she met your dad, she had suitors spiraling around the house. Your mother was the Tin Sáng Spring Queen. Some guys went as far as climbing the mango tree outside the courtyard just so they could get a look at her.” Aunt Kim on the other hand was known for her sense of humor, her brain for science, the sweet richness of her egg noodle soup. It had been the same for Elle and Sophia all their lives too. Sophia had been nothing but the bratty baby. Suddenly she got these mounds and then she was instantly “mature.” Elle hadn’t cared much about being pretty before. She had always tried to be the smart one. Her love of books developed because she had been afraid of only being seen and not heard.

There were people like her friends’ dads who were supposed to be one way but now acted differently than before. Both single and married ones started flirting with her. Her friend Pam Pure’s dad got in the habit of calling her Elle-Belle, which she didn’t mind once he told her it meant “beautiful” in French. A couple of weekends ago, Pam Pure’s dad even told her a dirty joke at the soccer game. One minute, he had called her over by saying, “Come have a chat with me, kiddo,” something innocent like that. And then suddenly, the conversation diverged into lowered voices and fidgety eyes. Afterward he said, “Elle, you’ve really got an old soul.” It was confusing to figure it out.

More and more Elle questioned what people meant when they said, “You’re pretty.” Did they mean the particular formation of her face, or did they mean pretty like an exotic oriental rug that took a long time to weave, or did they meant slutty, like the Asian prostitutes inhabiting every single American war film? It was as if they never saw her at all. It was scary how things could change so quickly overnight. Like packing a suitcase and leaving your country behind forever.

As they waited for the bus in the Mission, men in low rider trucks blaring mariachi music hissed at them. The men in luxury cars did the opposite. These men seemed to fight with themselves not to look but sometimes just couldn’t help it. There was a skateboarder they both thought was cute until he squeezed his crotch in offering as he sped away.

When they finally arrived at the track meet, Elle scanned the field for Speed’s blonde head. He was in a relay event, hunched over waiting for the baton. On the sidelines, kids were running back and forth in either red or blue uniforms warming up.