Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet (8 page)

13

“H
ey, guys,” Ana's mom interrupts, coming in through the back door before Ana's dad can answer. “I thought I'd cut some mint for the iced tea,” she explains.

She squeezes between them to drop the mint into the sink. She pulls off her gardening gloves.

“Have either of you seen my father?” she asks, turning on the water and rinsing the leaves. “Mama's looking for him.”

“Like, half an hour ago,” Ana says. She finishes cutting the tofu into cubes and passes the plate to her dad. “I was just asking about Ye Ye.”

“I thought he was online in your dad's office.” Ana's mom shakes her head. “Well, as long as everyone shows up for dinner, I'll be happy. But it sure is nice and quiet with them gone.”

Ana grins and goes back to her dumplings. “How many more of these should I make?”

Her parents survey her handiwork. “Let's see,” her dad says. “Chelsea, her sister and dad . . . us . . . them . . . fourteen people. Figure three dumplings each . . . I'd say make twelve more and we're set. We've got a lot of food to spread around.”

“Good.” Ana tears off another sheet of parchment paper and rolls more balls of dough. She powers through the last dozen dumplings and pulls out a large frying pan.

“Dad, will you cook these?”

“Sure, tiger . . . Ana. Do you mind rounding every-one up? Then you can get ready.”

“Sure thing.” She washes her arms up to her elbows, dries them on a towel and dashes out the door.

“Grandma, Grandpa, Ye Ye, Nai Nai,” she yells through the hallway. “Dinner's ready to go!”

She makes it to her dad's office on the first floor, where Ye Ye is nodding off at the desk in front of the computer.

“Have you been here this whole time?” Ana asks. Ye Ye shrugs. She's the only person in the world with cyberfriendly grandparents. Go figure.

“Well, they need you in the kitchen.”

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” he says, and rubs the sleep from his eyes.

Nai Nai comes rushing through the front door on Ana's way back. “An-ah, carry these bags in for me.”

She shoves a shopping bag at Ana and hurries on to the kitchen. The bag is heavy enough to catch Ana by surprise. She looks inside. A watermelon and a box of frozen dumplings look back at her.

“Nai Nai,” she calls, “I
made
the dumplings.” She can even hear them sizzling away in the kitchen. Her grandmother sticks her head around the kitchen door.

“When I left you were just
talking
about making dumplings. This way we can be sure. Bring me that melon. Where is your grandfather? He can slice it.”

“In the office. He's coming,” Ana says. She carries the bag into the kitchen and puts it on the counter.

“See, Nai Nai.” Ana points at the cooking dumplings. “In the pan and ready to go.”

“Harrumph,” is all Nai Nai says.

Ana shoves the bag of store-bought dumplings into the freezer. Even if hers are only half done, there's no way she's letting them be compared to these perfectly shaped things. “I didn't see Sammy and Grandma White,” she tells her mom.

“They're out back. I just sent your dad out to help finish setting up,” Ana's mom says. The sheet cake on the table is now iced with white frosting, plain as a field of snow.

Just then, Ye Ye shuffles through the doorway with a sheaf of papers in his hand. Ana steps aside to let him pass.

“Oh, good. Ye Ye can cut up the melon. Can I get dressed now?” Ana asks, trying not to sound like she's complaining.

“Yes, hurry up. Go.” Her mom waves her away.

Grandma White passes her in the doorway with Sammy in tow. “Our little project is up and running,” Grandma White says.

Ana shakes her head. “Geez, it's like rush hour in here.”

“Oh, An-ah!” Nai Nai sings out. Ana stops in her tracks and sticks her head back through the swinging door.

“Yes?” she says as sweetly as she can. It's game time and everything is going . . . well, reasonably well.
Put on your patience hat,
she tells herself.

“Come here, granddaughter, there is something Ye Ye and I have been wanting to share with you.”

Ana tries not to sigh or drag her feet when she goes back into the kitchen. Grandma White and Sammy are sitting at the table with Grandpa White; her parents are pulling out platters to hold dinner. Nai Nai has put her bags down and is standing with her back to the refrigerator. Everyone is listening.

“Granddaughter Ana. Your grandfather and I are so very proud of you on your graduation day that we've decided to do something a little earlier than we had planned.”

Ana slowly steps forward.
This doesn't sound good,
she thinks. “But Nai Nai, you've been so generous already,” she says. She glances around the room. Her parents are completely in the dark, from the look on their faces. Grandma White is raising an eyebrow. It makes her look more like a teacher than ever.

Nai Nai claps her hands sharply. “We are taking you to Taiwan!”

Ana's eyes go wide. “What? Really?”

“Show her, Yuan. First class all the way!”

Nai Nai pushes Ye Ye forward. He smiles gently and hands her a sheet of paper. Ana scans it.

“It's a boarding pass . . . and a hotel reservation.” She flips through the pages. “Ye Ye, is this what you were doing online?”

Her grandfather chuckles. “It was your grandmother's idea.”

“This is fantastic!” Ana says. “First class!”

Her father makes a strangled sound—a cheer interrupted by Ana's mother's foot on his toes.

Right,
Ana thinks. She tries not to look at Grandma White.
Way to go, Ana.
“What a surprise,” she says. “A last-minute surprise!” Her smile wobbles a little.

Nai Nai doesn't notice. She's too busy clapping her hands to punctuate her words. “It's not too last-minute. We planned this all along. I mean, we were going to wait until you graduated from high school, but kids are so different these days, you are old enough now. And besides, then you will have college to worry about, and we don't want to distract our salutatorian!” Nai Nai flutters forward, her hands waving in the air until they land on either side of Ana's face in a little affectionate squeeze. “Isn't that good news! A first-class trip to Taiwan!”

“That's fantastic, Nai Nai. Really.” Ana smiles and gives her grandmother a hug. Over Nai Nai's shoulder, Ana sees her parents smile, but they don't relax.

“That's wonderful,” Grandpa White says. Sammy giggles. “Isn't that wonderful, Olivia?”

Grandma White doesn't answer.

Ana takes a deep breath, disengages and rushes over to Grandma White's side. She gives her other grandmother a big hug and kiss. “A riverboat cruise—
mwah!”
She goes back to Nai Nai. “And a trip to Taiwan—
mwah!
I really am the luckiest kid in the world.”

“Yes, you are,” Ana's mother agrees. Ana's parents squeeze hands. Ana is a diplomat and they know it. Everyone is smiling, except for Grandma White. The rest of Ana's family relaxes back into the flow of finishing dinner.

“Well, I should go get dressed now,” Ana says, and starts to back away toward the door.

“Baby?” Grandma White waves her back and pulls her in to whisper in her ear. She slides an opal bracelet off her wrist.

“Here, wear this tonight for good luck.”

Ana hesitates.
This is too weird.
“Uh . . . thanks.” She accepts the bracelet.

No one else even notices, except for Nai Nai, who begins removing her earrings. “And these, too, Ana, for luck,” she says pointedly.

“Um, Nai Nai, I don't have pierced ears,” Ana says apologetically.

“Oh.” Nai Nai mutters something under her breath in Mandarin. “Here.” She struggles to remove a ring. It barely fits on Ana's pinky.

“Thanks, both of you. I'm going to go put these on right now.”

Her grandmothers are not looking at her anymore, just at each other.

“Oh, and baby girl?” Grandma White says. “What your grandmother said earlier about worrying about college . . . Well, you don't have to.
We
weren't going to tell you until you graduated from high school, but your grandfather and I have been saving ever since you were born, ever since your mother met your father and we knew that they would have children. You and Sammy can both go to the college of your choice. Now, isn't that nice?”

Ana's mother drops a dish. Everyone turns to watch it bounce, but it doesn't shatter.

“You what, Mama?”

“You heard me, baby. Ana's college is paid for. At least it will be by the time she's eighteen.”

“Oh, lord,” Grandpa White says softly.

Ana's mother bursts into a grin. “That's . . . that's amazing. Daniel? That's amazing.”

“Wow,” Ana's dad says, and hugs Ana's mom.

Nai Nai has turned pale.

“We'll buy you a house,” she says in a clipped voice. “You can have our house when we are dead.”

Ana spins around. “What? That's just crazy. I'm only fourteen!”

“And we are healthy. It is just a little something for the future.” Nai Nai sits back, satisfied. Ana, however, is not.

“I don't want your house!”

“It's not good enough?”

“No! It's yours!”

“Hmph!” Nai Nai folds her arms angrily.

“No, it's good, of course it's good, it's wonderful, but it's yours! I don't want you to die! I don't want to live in Irvine! I want . . . well, I don't know what I want, but I'm fourteen! I don't have to know just yet, do I? I don't know where I'm going to college, or where I want to live when I graduate, but that's eight years from now. Stop pushing me. Both of you!”

Her grandmothers sit back, hurt looks on their faces. Ana's parents' mouths open, but nothing comes out. Even Ye Ye is speechless. Ana cringes. It's like time has frozen, and it's about to hit the ground and shatter and she can't stop it. Her head spins as she reaches for the right thing to say, anything to get that look off her grandmothers' faces. Anything to keep from being the ungrateful little girl Ye Ye warned her about. The right words to keep everyone else happy, even if she's not.

Then the doorbell rings.

Everyone freezes. The silence in the kitchen stretches painfully.

The doorbell rings again.

Ana lets go of a breath she didn't know she was holding.

“I'll get it,” she says quietly.

She unties her apron and stalks out of the kitchen to the front door. She throws the door open.

“Chelsea, you won't believe it—”

“Hi.”

It's not Chelsea. Ana blinks in the sunlight.

“Jamie?”

He smiles at her nervously. “Uh . . . yeah. Hi. Are we early?”

14

“H
iiiiii,” she says, the greeting falling out of her mouth like a dead leaf.

Jamie smiles. His dad and mom are standing behind him like that
American Gothic
painting of the farmer and his daughter with the pitchfork, only the pitchfork is Mr. Tabata's long finger digging into his son's shoulder.

“Miss Shen,” Mr. Tabata says.

Ana feels short and dark in front of him. Then she realizes he's blocking the light. She steps out of his shadow and instantly regrets it. She knows how she must look, like a kid playing with Play-Doh. Her shirt is smeared with streaks of dough and dusted with flour. Even her shorts have seen better days.

“Um . . . Come on in.” Briefly, she hopes Jamie's dad isn't a vampire or something. But there's enough garlic in dinner to kill a whole castle full of vampires.

Ana leads the way down the hall, her palms suddenly sweaty and the back of her neck itchy. Jamie Tabata is actually here, inside her house. It's weird. She feels like she's floating two inches outside her own body. Her T-shirt feels hot and her legs prickle with a sudden sheen of sweat. The angry knot in her stomach feels like a lead weight.

“Everyone's still in the kitchen dishing up the food. We're going to eat in the backyard.”

Jamie's mother smiles. “How lovely,” she says. It's the first thing Ana's heard her say all day.

“It's a nice evening,” Jamie's father agrees, but it sounds more like small talk than pleasure.

The short walk past the closed kitchen door to the backyard feels like forever, like a march down death row in an old prison movie. Ana is more than happy to throw open the door to the yard. She resists the urge to run through it and jump the wall to freedom. Nothing is going the way she wanted it to, not a single thing.

A burst of cool air greets them, and a sight Ana was afraid she'd never see.

Grandma White has transformed the backyard into a paradise. Where there was once only patchy grass beneath the shedding eucalyptus trees, now there are fairy lights, tiny chains of brightness twinkling in the branches. And the sky is just edging toward purple, that moment that could be sunset or dawn and is full of softly colored promise. The two folding tables are set together to make one long one and covered with festive oilcloths, turquoise backgrounds dotted with a parade of red and orange fruits. A few tabletop paper lanterns light the table, set at intervals along the center, just wide enough apart to make room for the food.

“Wow,” Jamie says.

“Hurray!” Sammy scampers out the back door and cheers when he sees Jamie's family. He points to the sign draped across the side of the garage. “Grandma and I made this.”

WELCOME, GRADUATES
, it reads in big red letters painted on the cleaner side of an old bedsheet.
Ah,
thinks Ana,
that was the special project.
Hard to believe it was done by the same grandmother who just drove her so crazy.

“How beautiful,” Jamie's mother says.

Ana blushes. “Thanks. Um . . . have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

With orders for iced tea for Mr. and Mrs. Tabata, and lemonade for Jamie and Sammy, Ana returns to the house. She steps into the hallway rather than straight into the kitchen, unsure how to face her family. She's not wearing a sundress, and she's not exactly speaking to her relatives, but the backyard turned out perfect. She shakes her head and rubs her temples. It just doesn't make any sense.

The back door swings slowly open. Jamie sticks his head in. “Oh, Ana.”

She starts, then pulls herself away from the wall. Her heart pounds unreasonably loudly.

“Hey, Jamie. Um, I was just about to . . .”

“Yeah, uh, I came to help with the drinks. Oh, and to give you this.” He holds up a pink pastry box tied with a bit of string. “I wanted to make something, since everyone else was cooking. But my dad thought these would be better.”

“Oh. Thanks. You didn't need to bring anything.” Ana takes the box with only slightly trembling fingers and slides back the string to look inside. Little translucent pink- and green-frosted cubes with sugared flower petals on top sit on a sheet of wax paper. They look like something you'd serve at a tea party.

“They're whatchamacallits,” Jamie says. “Petits fours. Like little cakes.”

“Great. Thanks.” She smiles and tries not to worry about serving them alongside her mom's giant sheet cake.

They stand there in the hallway staring at each other. Ana's heartbeat pounds even more loudly in her ears. Her face must be shaking, her heart's beating so hard.

“So,” she says, and clears her throat. “Iced tea, right?”

“And lemonade.”

The hallway that seemed so long a few minutes ago feels tiny now. Ana is close enough to Jamie to feel the heat coming off his body.

“Thanks for having us over, Ana. I'm really—”

Ding-dong!
The doorbell chimes so unexpectedly that Ana almost drops the petits fours.

“Yikes. That's probably Chelsea,” she explains. “I'll get it!” she calls out. She hands the pastry box back to Jamie and leads the way to the front of the house.

“Chelsea, thank God, I—” Ana stops in midgreeting.

Amanda Conrad is standing there, all five feet and seven inches of her, a breezy blue and green sundress billowing around her long legs and the sun setting like a freaking halo right behind her Honey Blonde
^TM
hair.

“Amanda?” Ana stands there like a kid with a geometry problem she has to solve in front of the whole class.

“Hi, Ana. Jamie!” She squeals his name. “Surprise! Jamie's dad invited me. Isn't that great? Oh, this is my mom.” She jabs a thumb at the woman standing by the sidewalk, finishing a cigarette. Mrs. Conrad is an older, tired-looking version of Amanda. She waves and stubs out her smoke on the sidewalk with an astonishingly high-heeled shoe. “Sorry. Nasty habit. Hi.”

“Ooo, are those petits fours?” Amanda pushes her way past Ana and winds one of her long arms through Jamie's. “I adore petits fours!” she exclaims, dragging out the word
adore
in a way that makes Ana want to punch her in the stomach. And kill Jamie's dad.

“Congratulations, Hannah,” Mrs. Conrad says.

“Ana,” Ana corrects her.

Mrs. Conrad laughs. “Oh. Hannah's such a pretty name. So, this is the great Jamie Tabata.”

She smiles charmingly. Ana bristles. Mandy and her mother are cut from the same golden California cloth, but Mrs. Conrad's had some nipping and tucking to keep her edges from fraying.

“Hi, Mrs. Conrad.” Jamie shakes her hand. Ana groans inwardly. Turns out the real vampires never ask to be let in. They just show up.

“We were just getting drinks,” Jamie says.

“Ooo, I'd love a drink. What are you drinking, Jamie?”

“Lemonade.”

“Oh. I'll have one too,” Mrs. Conrad says to Ana. “I adore lemonade.”

Ana tries to catch Jamie's eye, but the Conrad women are all over him.

“I'll take them outside.” Jamie leads Amanda and her mom away, looking for all the world like a rock star with a groupie entourage.

Now Ana has no choice but to talk to her family again.

“I'll warn them in the kitchen,” she mutters under her breath. Ana grits her teeth and stands in the doorway for a moment, trying to take a calming deep breath and failing. The sun is fading behind the trees.

“Dad, just take the tie off!”

Ana sighs with relief. It's Chelsea's voice, coming over the hedge that shields their front yard from the street. A second later, Chelsea herself appears, followed by her father, “Chuck”—who is fumbling with his tie, never mind the button that's popped open over his belly—and Dina, Chelsea's enthusiastic little sister.

“Ana!” Dina squeals, flashing braces.

“Hi, Dina.”

Chelsea frowns. “Ana? You all right?”

Ana looks at her friend and feels a wave of nausea grip her stomach. “No. I hate my family. And Amanda Conrad's here.”