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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

That’s when I start missing them. I want to tell Owen to do a Weekly History Minute on vanilla, which comes from an orchid originally cultivated by the Totonacs, who were conquered by the Aztecs in what’s now Mexico. I wish I could tell Emily that lilies of the valley are technically part of the asparagus family. I want to complain to both of them about the horrible punposals. I want them both to tell me to have faith in love and romance and parents and friendship. I want them to tell me that the committee falling apart wasn’t my fault, that us falling apart wasn’t my fault, that Mom and me falling apart wasn’t my fault. I want things not to be the huge mess that they’ve become.

I don’t know. Maybe it was my fault. If it was, I wish I could see how. I wish I knew what I could have done differently. But it’s too late, anyway. I can’t change what happened.

46

BRYNN ASKED EMILY TO PROM WITH A PROMPOSAL that left the entire school agape. I mean. It was out of control. For starters, Geoffrey Acosta and Keila Padilla, the photographer, were there, presumably covering it for the Merc.

The marching band came out of the music building and arranged themselves on the quad, playing the reggae version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” As the last notes faded out, they turned to the roof of the administration building and we followed their gaze to see Emily and Brynn. It became clear the band was standing in a formation that from Emily’s vantage point must have look like: P R O M ?

Once the cheering subsided, Brynn pulled a multi-colored bouquet of roses out of her backpack—a bright bunch of crimson, sunny orange, lemon yellow, and blush pink—handed them to Emily, dropped to one knee, and said into a microphone, “Emily Baxter, I can’t help falling in love with you. Will you go to prom with me?”

It was all very romantic, if by romantic you mean public and spectacular and completely over the top. I have to admit I was kind of impressed by the time and effort it must have taken to plan the whole thing. Because, let’s face it, you don’t organize an event like that unless you care a lot. Like, a lot a lot.

Brynn held the mic up to Emily.

Emily stood there for a moment, taking it all in, I suppose. Curling her hair around her finger.

Then she said, “I’m sorry,” and turned around, ran to the stairwell, and disappeared.