8

Switzerland

THINGS WITH GARRETT were not going well. And they were not much better at home.

“Hattie,” my mom said at breakfast the next day. Even though she had a full work schedule ahead of her, Mom had gotten up super early to make our favorites: congee with preserved egg and Chinese fried donuts. “Go change. Why are you wearing the sweater with all the holes? Wear the blue one.”

“I don’t want to,” Hattie said. “This is the same one Sonni wore in her music video! The one all over TikTok.”

“Who? Who is this Sonni?” Mom said. “Go change.”

I recognized Mom’s tone. It was milder than the harsh one she had used on Bella, before Bella had left. But then, as now, it coiled through me, alarming.

“And you have to go with me to Auntie Liu’s after school,” Mom said. “She needs help with the Lunar New Year fashion show.” The Lunar New Year celebration was one of the major Taiwanese events of the year. My mom had already booked her hair appointment and bought a new dress. It was also right before the end of the competition, which meant we were either going to have an entrance of triumph or we would have to fake an excuse and Mom would have to return her clothes.

Hattie said, “Mom! I’m busy. Why can’t Juju go?”

“She has to work on the competition.”

“Yeah? Well, I have things to do, too. I’m doing an article for the paper.”

Mom waved her hand like Hattie was trying to excuse herself by saying she had to stay home and pick her nose.

Hattie dropped her spoon, the metal clanking against her bowl. “It’s important.”

Mom didn’t say anything. Just one look.

When we were younger, we always had to go on these errands with Mom. Bella loved them and would push us around in shopping carts at the Chinese grocery store or would do crafts with us in Auntie Liu’s living room as Auntie prepared for her annual fashion show. I remember right before she left for San Francisco, Bella gave me her canvas bag full of yarn and stickers and crochet hooks. I had always coveted it secretly but hadn’t wanted it that way. Not like some sort of goodbye gift.

Hattie grabbed her spoon, then silently shoveled down the rest of her congee. What was she thinking about? Maybe about how she would have another year of getting dragged around, alone? First it was Bella, me, and Hattie; then just me and Hattie. And after next year, just Hattie. Or rather, Hattie and Mom, which meant it would be a year of war.

I kicked her foot under the table. Didn’t she see how tired Mom was? Hattie would say Mom didn’t have to work so hard; the sale of Dad’s patent had given us enough of a cushion. It was true. We weren’t private jet–level wealthy, of course, but were lucky enough to be able to pay off our house and have college trust funds for each of us. Plus a little extra. But Mom was always preparing for the worst. She had seen how everything could be taken away; it had happened to the people of Taiwan after World War II. When you live through witnessing massacres and bankruptcies and the loss of rights, there is no point where there is enough. Because Mom had seen what it was like when there was nothing.

Hattie dropped her bowl into the sink, grabbed her backpack, and marched outside.

“Sorry, Mom.” I took a Chinese donut and wrapped it into a napkin for Hattie, then grabbed the other sweater off the couch. I packed another donut for Mom to take to work. “I’ll talk to her.”

My mom gave me a distracted kiss on the cheek. “Study hard today.”

I sometimes visited Maria’s house and saw how she and her mom would gossip at the kitchen table while prepping for dinner, how Maria could tell her all about her relationship with Tammy or her problems at school. We never had that. Our mom was always halfway gone, tangled in emails and profit-and-loss statements. Hattie had once tried to ask her what it was like growing up when Taiwan was in such turmoil.

She said one word: “difficult.” It was a word with a different meaning than the American meaning. For my mom, “difficult” meant: “It didn’t kill me, so . . .”

I tried to imagine what it would be like to ask Mom what she was feeling. Or to confess I was terrified I couldn’t win this competition and I would let her—and Dad—down.

But I saw her tired face, her glance at the clock, and I couldn’t. I remember right after Dad died, I once snuck downstairs after bedtime. I was surprised to find my mom in the living room; she was crying, but trying to do it quietly, swallowing jerking hiccups. Until that moment, my mom had been an immovable force, almost untouchable. It was the first time I had seen her wholly broken. It was terrifying.

My dad had been her best friend, the one she could always talk to about work or what was happening in the Linevine. They would chat in Mandarin on purpose, so we couldn’t understand them, but we didn’t need to know the meaning of the words. The way my dad would look at her, affectionately, or how she would lean on his shoulder made everything clear. After he passed, Mom’s friends would stop by with platters of food and pull her to dinner parties and social events. Slowly, she started to laugh again. Smile. She wasn’t happy, exactly, but at least she knew she had done this one thing: she had successfully raised their children. But then came The Fall. And Mom became quiet again. Would sit on the couch on Saturday evenings, staring at the television, her face bare. What she was thinking about those evenings, I had no idea. Her sisters in Taiwan? What had happened to us as a family after Dad died? She never said. I sometimes sat next to her and tried to keep her company, but my Mandarin was not good enough and I was confused by the plots of her shows.

But since the competition had started, she had been dressing up more. Dropping hints of my prior accomplishments into the Linevine and talking to people on the phone instead of sitting by herself on the couch. She had even started shopping at Dynasty Mall on the weekends again instead of waiting for the off hours. How could I possibly add to her burdens with my doubts about the competition? The Lunar New Year celebration was only a few weeks away, and I knew everyone would be there. It could be a night of triumph. It could make Mrs. Lin eat her snobbery. I only needed to be at the top.

I said, “Thanks for breakfast, Mom.” But she was already walking away and didn’t hear me.

“What’s wrong with helping Auntie Liu? She’s, like, Mom’s only friend,” I said. Hattie was already in my car, scowling, and I pushed her feet off my dashboard. Then I handed her the Chinese donut and the sweater. “Why do you always have to argue with her? You wear this one all the time.”

“Because it’s ridiculous. And she always tries to control everything. Hey, can I drive?”

“Absolutely not.” Hattie was sixteen and technically had her driver’s license, but for the safety of everyone in Connecticut and the tri-state area, I drove.

Hattie slouched in her seat and turned up the radio, too loud as usual. “Why does it matter what we wear, anyway? What about not judging a book by its cover? Does she, what, want me to wear a ball gown to school?”

I turned the music down, then slowly pulled out of the driveway after checking both ways. “Come on, you know she didn’t say ‘ball gown.’ She just doesn’t want you to look like someone spilled paint on your clothes.”

“It’s the design, Juju. Aren’t you on TikTok? These are artful. And why are you always taking her side?”

“I’m not.” I was taking the side of our family. We had already been split into two. I couldn’t bear to see us in any more parts. “Hattie. For me, please?”

She unwrapped her breakfast. “Only for you.” I felt a little bad about pulling the Sister Card, but it was for her own good.

Done! One problem solved. I cheerfully made my way to school, only to be intercepted by Maria and Tammy.

“Juliana,” Maria said. “Are you going to talk to Eric Lin?” I had given both her and Tammy a brief update on what had gone down, and they had been appropriately outraged on my behalf.

“Of course,” I said as another one of our SBA members came up to me.

“Juliana,” he said. “Mr. Veevers said there’s a problem with the booking for the auditorium.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I said.

“What a jerk,” Tammy said. “I always said Eric was ruthless.”

“You did!” Maria said.

Tammy beamed at her, and I felt something like envy. Maria and Tammy had always had a connection, even before they started dating. They would never leave each other, no matter what.

“We will give the stink eye on your behalf,” Tammy said. “Tell us which direction to aim.”

That was true friendship: those who will give dirty looks to those who have wronged you. I hugged them as the warning bell rang, then we ran into our homerooms.

No sooner had I sat down than a text from Garrett popped up on my phone.

Dear Sunny and Cloudy,

I am SO IN LOVE! I can barely function! I can’t even remember my own name! Please help!

Signed,

Call Me Swoony

He was impossible. I typed:

Dear Swoony:

Check your ID card. Your chances of success will increase exponentially if you can introduce yourself.

Sincerely,

Sunny

By lunchtime, I was in my groove. I had fixed the issue with the SBA auditorium reservation, aced my calculus quiz, and sent messages to some vendors for the SBA fundraiser. But the competition was still a problem.

I had posted my blog on romance tropes last night. I had listed some of my favorite books as examples and pasted snapshots of their covers. I cross-posted to all of my regular social media accounts. Even though my followings were relatively modest, it had to help, right? I had gone to sleep happy, dreaming of all the likes and comments rolling in. Of it being the best love blog in the history of love blogs. But when I woke up, only two people had visited our new website.

Number of people not related to me who had clicked on our site last night: one. Number of people who wanted to sell me hiatal hernia medication: you guessed it.

What else could I do? We were getting some traffic from people visiting our social media accounts, but our numbers were still low. I was in a genuine— I wouldn’t say panic. Let’s say I had a genuine concern.

I was inhaling some meditative breaths when I walked into the cafeteria and saw Eric Lin. He was off to the side, talking with some of his friends. I marched over.

“I can’t believe you,” I hissed. “Two days before registration? Are you kidding me?”

Eric apologized to them and pulled me to the side. “Quiet. You’re making a scene.”

“Oh, you’re worried about a scene? Not the fact that you’re a total asshole?”

“This is a competition, Juliana.” His face spasmed. “You knew we couldn’t win if we stayed together.”

“You knew the challenge had something to do with tech,” I said. “But you didn’t bother sharing that with me. We could have figured something out. Instead, you threw me under the bus.” Dad had always said to honor your word, to stick by those you came with. It was the iron rule we had always lived by. “Besides, don’t pretend this isn’t all because of your mom.”

He couldn’t deny it, which made me even more furious.

“Good luck,” I snapped. “I hope you can live with yourself.”

Eric stopped looking sorry and began to get irritated. “You want to go into business? Like our parents want so badly?” He sounded bitter. “You want to be successful? Then you can’t take things so personally.”

“Stop justifying your shitty behavior.”

“Your dad understood how the business world works,” he said. “The priorities you need to have.”

“My dad?”

Was that pity on his face? I wanted to claw it off.

“My parents were friends with Mr. Lee,” he said. “They know all about what happened.”

Was this about the fight between Dad and Mr. Lee? But they had made up. Whatever. He was trying to distract me.

He said, “I have to win.”

“You think I don’t?”

He looked away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

I was done with him. “Good luck in the competition. I hope you and Albert have a grand old time.”

He didn’t say anything as I left, just watched me go, frowning.

Now I was even more determined than before. I had to secure my victory.