BooksBarbecue
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

There’s no point in trying to win Owen back, now that Sabrina’s got her claws into him. But maybe I can fix this mess with Em. Our friendship is more important to me than anything. Anyway, if Brynn breaks her heart, someone needs to be around to help her pick up the pieces.

So I send Em a text.

Hey, I’m sorry I yelled at you

I’m still hurt, but I shouldn’t have been so mean to you. I was just venting. It’s not how I really feel.

Let’s try to figure this out, okay?

I stare at the screen, my heart galloping, galloping, galloping while I wait for her reply. Time, on the other hand, seems to slow down. The seconds plod endlessly by.

Finally, Emily:

Clearly it IS how you feel bc you’re not really taking anything back

I’ve been beating myself up over not telling you right away about Brynn, feeling like such a bad friend

Brynn kept encouraging me to tell you about us, she said it wouldn’t be that bad, and if you were a good friend you’d be happy for me. For us.

Guess she was wrong

Any additional apology I offer now would just be groveling. It would have to be an it’s-all-my-fault-please-take-me-back apology, and it was definitely not all my fault.

I look at our conversation. The words in their speech bubbles on the screen are so small, and everything else is so big. My pain and confusion, her anger, my regret, her rejection. The chasm that those tiny letters have opened up between us. I put my phone in my bag and head home.

44

NEEDLESS TO SAY, I’M A MOPEY, WEEPY MESS when Hannah arrives home from Asilomar.

She takes one look at me and hauls me out of bed at one in the afternoon and makes me go on my second walk of the year at the open-space preserve. “It’ll make you feel better,” she promises. “Spending time in nature always makes people feel better. That’s why I went to the beach this weekend.”

Hannah sets a much more leisurely pace than Mom (go figure), so I have enough breath to tell her everything as we walk. Another bonus: we’re not hot, sweaty, and gross when we reach the meadow at the top of the hill. The preserve used to be Spanish-Mexican ranchland, and a lot of the hills are covered in meadows instead of trees and chaparral. The grass is still fresh, green and new, punctuated here and there with splashes of yellow-orange California poppies and swaths of purple bush lupines. It’s easy to feel hopeful here.

We sit on a bench, and Hannah says, “Enough with the sad stuff, sweet pea. Take a break from that. Tell me something happy.”