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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

I’m acutely aware that, faced with this barrage of jovial, civic-minded enthusiasm, practically all I’ve been doing is grunting and nodding. Shane is still grinning at me, probably wondering what’s wrong with me, and he glances at Brynn, who grins back at him, and suddenly I get the distinct feeling that they’re politely waiting for me to leave so that they can laugh at me behind my back. I try to think of something to say to convince them that I am, in fact, an actual human with actual thoughts in my head, but my thoughts feel as foggy and vague as clouds, impossible to condense into something small and neat enough for this smallest of small-talk conversations. Come on, Ceej. Say something. I dig deep, summon up a couple of exclamation points, and say, “Okay! Well, I should be going! Try the blueberry muffins!” And bolt out the door.

5

I BOMBED THE “JUST A FORMALITY” INTERVIEW with Mom’s friend Carlos from Alphabet by informing him right away that I had no expertise or interest in data, big or otherwise. For two days after the interview, Mom didn’t even mention it, and I began to worry that Carlos might actually take me on as an intern. I swung between dread (he’d said yes despite my obvious lack of talent or interest, and I’d spend every afternoon of the foreseeable future miserably wasting everyone’s time) and a bizarre, hopeful fantasy (he’d seen a hidden spark of greatness, and I would finally blossom into the genius that Mom wanted me to be).

On the third day, I was washing the dishes after dinner when Mom called me down the hall to her office and told me that Carlos had said thanks, but no, thanks. “He told me that same afternoon, you know,” she said. “I’ve been waiting to see if you’d ask me how you did, but you clearly don’t even care enough to ask.”

I didn’t want to admit that maybe I’d bombed the interview accidentally on purpose because it would have been too humiliating to bomb it by accident for real. I didn’t know how to explain that even though I didn’t care about the internship, I was also terrified of hearing that I’d failed her yet again. So I shrugged and said, “Sorry.” It came out sounding sullen.

“I don’t understand it, CJ. What is wrong with you? I give you all these opportunities and you just throw them away like you don’t even care. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

I couldn’t bear to listen to another lecture, so I cut her off. “You could leave me alone.”