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Back This Time Will Be Different Save as PDF
Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part I
  6. 3
  7. The History of My Beef with Brynn Foer-Preston
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part I
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part I
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part II
  20. 13
  21. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part II
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. The Complicated History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Imaginary Relationship with Her Nonexistent Dad
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part III
  33. 23
  34. 24
  35. 25
  36. A Brief, Backward History of the McAllister Family, as Paraphrased from the San Jose Mercury News
  37. 26
  38. 27
  39. 28
  40. A Quick and Eerily Relevant History of Asians in America
  41. 29
  42. 30
  43. 31
  44. 32
  45. 33
  46. 34
  47. 35
  48. 36
  49. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part IV
  50. 37
  51. 38
  52. 39
  53. 40
  54. 41
  55. 42
  56. 43
  57. 44
  58. A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part II (Or Maybe It’s a Prequel)
  59. 45
  60. 46
  61. 47
  62. 48
  63. 49
  64. 50
  65. 51
  66. 52
  67. 53
  68. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part III
  69. 54
  70. A Note from the Author
  71. Index of Flowers and their Meanings
  72. Acknowledgments
  73. About the Author
  74. Praise for This Time Will Be Different
  75. Books by Misa Sugiura
  76. Back Ad
  77. About the Publisher

The four of us are pretty different: Zach and Aviana are total #winners; Owen is a history nerd; I’m me. But we’re linked by our histories in a way that makes me sad and angry and proud at the same time. I’m not happy it happened, but the history and the link are part of me, so they’re precious.

Owen’s voice rings out over the sound system as he delivers the final message: “We demand that the city rename this school after the rightful owner of the land that it stands on. If you care about justice, if you care about respect, not just for Japanese Americans, but for all black and brown people in this country, then sign our petition”—he raises an iPad above his head—“to let the authorities know that public schools should be named after heroes, not racists.”

Will, Sam, and I start clapping and hollering along with the kids around us, and the guys push forward to sign the petition. I stay where I am, watching Owen, feeling pride well up in my chest, warm and bright as a little sun. Owen catches my eye and smiles, and my heart aches slightly. I wish I could be up there with him.

Soon I notice that in a few pockets of the crowd, the vibe is different—less “Woo-hoo!” and more “Ohhhhh, damn.” Some kids are laughing, rolling their eyes, or outright sneering. Even the Asian kids. It shakes me up a little, especially when I see the more hostile reactions. I hear one kid saying, “Zach and Aviana aren’t even full Japanese,” as if being “only part” automatically disqualifies a person from claiming a heritage, and my world goes cold and gray.

But I’m not going to let a couple of ignorant assholes ruin my day. I look at Owen and I struggle to find my way back to the warm, bright pride and solidarity I felt before. I’ve almost got it when I see Sabrina Dang—what?—rush up to Owen and put her hand on his arm. She beams and says something, and he tilts his head and rubs the back of his neck the way he does when he’s nervous, but he looks pleased. He says something back, and it’s her turn to look pleased as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. She tosses her head and gives him a little swat on his shoulder, and he laughs, and—oh my god, they’re flirting. Suddenly my admiration for Owen, my sense of ethnic pride and civic duty, and my angsty self-doubt are completely hijacked by the implications of this stupid flirty interaction that I shouldn’t even care about.