Danny scratches the back of his neck. Now that I’m closer to him, I notice that he’s standing all weird, like he’s trying to hide something. I crane my neck to see what’s behind him, and he moves so he’s right in front of me, blocking my view. “Wanna grab a hot chocolate?”
“What’s going on?”
He gives me the world’s fakest smile. “Come on, let’s have a hot drink.”
I have no patience left. I put my hands on his arm and push him aside. And that’s when I see it. The whiteboard outside of my room. Yesterday I’d spent some time doodling my name in a pretty font, but someone’s erased it and written: PARASITE. Underneath that is a caricature of my face, complete with cartoonish balloon lips and the words we know where you sleep.
It feels like a punch in the stomach. I swipe my palm across the board, but the letters don’t come off. I rub harder and harder still, my vision blurred by tears.
There’s a gentle pat on my shoulder. “I think they used permanent marker,” Danny says. “I—um—I’ve asked Beth for a new board. I was going to switch it, but I didn’t get a chance to.”
I nod wordlessly. I can’t look at him, or I’ll burst into tears.
“Come on.” Danny places his hand gently on my back and guides me to the common room, which is thankfully empty. “Sit down. I’ll make us a drink.”
I sink into an overstuffed couch and hug a throw pillow, and suddenly, I’m exhausted. I just want to go home. The thought, so tiny and pathetic, makes my eyes wet. Again. I take a deep breath and blink furiously. Quick, before Danny finishes making the drinks. We’re nowhere near familiar enough with each other for me to bawl into a throw pillow while he pats my head. Get a grip, please, self.
Inhale. Shuddery with throat tears.
Exhale.
Inhale. Better.
Exhale.
Okay, tears successfully cockblocked. Crisis over.
Just in time, because Danny’s walking toward me, holding two steaming mugs. He puts them down on the coffee table, and then grabs a plate and loads it with cookies. I take a sip.
“Whoa.”
“I know, right?” Danny says, settling into the seat next to me.
“What is it?” I take another sip and close my eyes. I can’t not. It’s the kind of drink that makes all your muscles melt.
“Hot chocolate with a sneaky bag of green tea. One of my mom’s signature drinks.”
“Your mom’s a genius.”
“She’s…complicated. Makes good hot chocolate, though.”
For a while, we sit in silence, drinking and letting the hot chocolate melt us further into the sofas.
“Rough first day, huh?” Danny says.
“Is it always like that here?”
“Like what?”
I shrug. “The Dirt app, my whiteboard. The whole mean girl thing.”
“Ah. Okay, well, DD is always like that, yeah. But it moves on pretty quick. By tomorrow, there’ll be a post about some other kid and the heat will be off you. And the mean girl vibe…most girls and guys here are pretty chill. I think it’s really all down to one girl.”
“Mandy?”
“Mandy.”
I groan. “Someone told me I should stay off varsity just so I won’t piss Mandy off.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“I’ll lose my scholarship!”
“Oh.” Danny takes a cookie and chews it slowly. “Well, in that case, you gotta do what you gotta do.”
I snort. As much as I like Danny, I can’t help but feel frustrated at how easy he assumes everything is. Of course, he’s never had any need for any scholarships or financial aid, so he can’t grasp just how huge this is for me. And it’s not his fault he’s privileged, it’s just…ugh.
“You got this, Lia.”
“I really don’t.”
Danny holds up his hand to my face. “No buts. Ini masalah kecil. Elu pasti bisa.”
You can do this. It’s what Ibu always says to me.
“But—”
“No buts.” Danny gives me the Look. It’s the look that every Asian kid knows, this kind of “don’t even try it, kid,” look. He does it so well, I instinctively sit up straighter.
Ridiculous as Danny’s little pep talk is, I actually feel better, like he’s given me permission to go ahead and do whatever the hell I want. Okay, not whatever I want, because what I really want is to sharpen my toothbrush into a shank and stab Mandy with it, but you know. “You make a good Asian auntie.”
“Ha! Yeah. It’s ’cause my mom is like, the biggest Asian auntie around.”
A face pops into the doorway. “Did someone mention Asian aunties?” Beth says, grinning.
I can’t help smiling back. It’s been a shit day, but it’s quickly improving.
Beth squeezes next to me on the sofa and grabs my drink. “Damn, this is so good! So are we talking about Asian aunties, ’cause my mom is officially the biggest Asian auntie around.”
“Nuh-uh,” Danny says, shaking his head. “My mom has that title. Singaporean aunties have nothing over Chinese-Indo aunties.”
Beth laughs. “Not true! My mom is like, ‘Hanh? You want to be painter? Painter your head, ah! You think painter can earn what money, ah? You wear Prada—which she pronounces Pra-ta, by the way—and Burberry—which she pronounces Blur-beh-ly—and you want to be painter? You better take business module or else, ah!’ See? Can your mom beat that?”
By now, all three of us are laughing so hard, I nearly choke on my hot chocolate.
“What about you, Lia, is your mom like that too?” Danny says.
I shake my head. “Sorry, guys, but my mom’s totally laid-back.”
“Whoa, a chill Asian mom. I thought those are a myth,” Beth says. “My mom’s the reason I’m working my ass off with my part-time job.”
“What part-time job are you working?” I say. Having one seems pretty hard-core, given how competitive classes are here.
“Ugh, just a super annoying thing. Not gonna bore you with that. I’m really only doing it to prove to my mom I can take care of myself, even if I were to go to art school.”
“Here’s to proving our folks wrong,” Danny says, raising his cup.
“Here’s to proving everyone wrong,” I say, raising mine.
Chapter 4
Danny’s right about DD; that very same night, Aaron Presley and his buddies take his Bugatti Chevron or Chevy or whatever to party in downtown SF and then proceed to drunk-crash his car into the rose garden when they get back. Everyone’s fine, except for poor Kaylyn Crawford—one of her new silicone boobs exploded, and DD can’t have enough of that nasty piece of info. All those posts about me are quickly drowned out by GIFs of balloons popping.
I feel awful for Kaylyn, I really do, but I can’t lie. I’m sort of slightly relieved that she’s taken the heat off me, even if just for a while. I spend the next few days keeping a very low profile. The lowest. Asian parents everywhere would’ve been proud of the amount of time I spend hitting the books the next couple of weeks. When I’m not on the track, I’m burying my nose in books. I’m just living to see the look on Mr. Werner’s face when I totally crush his biweekly test.