The Fruit of My Lipstick (5 page)

“Lissa’s parents live here and she’s in boarding school?” He looked puzzled.

I explained about the movie and the two-year stint. “Where’s your family?”

“Phoenix, mostly. But my dad is scientist-in-residence at a think tank in Palo Alto, so we figured it would be good exposure for me if I were closer. Sometimes on the weekends, if he’s running models on the mainframe, he lets me assist. That way I get to know the scientists unofficially, and it will pay off later, when I graduate.”

“You mean you might get a summer job?”

“No. When I graduate from Stanford. I’ll be doing a double major—physics and computer science—and I plan to get my doctorate in eight years, max. I want to do computer modeling in astrophysics.”

“Wow. And here I thought I was ambitious, taking AP classes so I’d get into . . . somewhere that isn’t Harvard.”

“What’s the matter with Harvard? It’s a great school.”

“There’s nothing the matter with it. Except that my brother went there.”

“Is he some kind of troublemaker? Will he harm your chances?”

The thought of Darren doing anything like that made me smile. “Of course not. But I’d be competing with him, see. So I’m not going anywhere near the place.”

The light from overhead fell into his eyes. A deep sky blue. Loved the color. “I don’t get it,” he said.

“Because I’d have to meet or beat every one of his grades. That’s just the way my family is. I have to work twice as hard to be equal to or better than the boys. At least in my dad’s eyes.”

“Oh.” Understanding dawned. “Why bother? I mean, I’m pretty competitive myself, but that’s extreme. Why don’t they let you do what you want?”

Why indeed. “It’s kind of hard to explain.” Again, I thought of the fog, out there waiting. “My parents’ expectations are pretty high.”

He made a face and took a sip of his carrot juice. “I know how that is. My dad thinks I’ll be stepping into his chair when he’s ready to retire.”

“Is that what you want?” Lucas was talking retirement, and he wasn’t even out of high school. Good grief. At least my parents hadn’t mapped out my whole life for me. Just the beginning of it.

“It’s a place to start,” he said. “Maybe not his chair, but if they want me bad enough they’ll make a position for me.”

“Lucky you. I’ll be on my own. But that’s a long way out there. I’m just glad thirdterms are over.”

He got my made-up word right away. We were so on the same wavelength. “Me, too. Not that they were a problem. Except English for me and History for you.”

“They were enough of a problem. Chemistry isn’t easy for me. I have to work hard at it.”

He gave me a quizzical glance. “Yeah? I thought you were a natural at science. And music.”

Was he using the personal
you
or the collective? Maybe I’d give him a little test. “Like most Asians?”

“Huh?” He stared at me. Then, “Oh,” he said. “Do you get that a lot?”

I remembered recitals and music festival performances where the blue-eyed, blond girls would stand in the wings and whisper about how unfair it was that the Asians were so good at music. Like it was some genetic thing and not the result of being chained to the piano every afternoon for two hours. “I try not to let it bug me. Lissa honestly thinks I’m brilliant at science. It never occurs to her that the reason she always sees me studying is because I’m not. Going over concepts with her actually helps me.”

“But you are brilliant at music,” he offered. “Even I can see that, and I’m a complete loss at anything to do with the arts. As Mr. Caldwell implied when he saw my still-life project this week.”

“Music is fun.” I flexed my fingers—my non-stubby, agile fingers. Heh. “That part is natural. My mom plays, too—just when no one’s around.” I picked up my colada. “The problem is, I’m not going to get to be a doctor or a scientist playing the piano, am I? Or goofing off in the art department. So I have to work at what I’m good at, not what I really like.”

“Who says? Your family?”

“Yep.”

“What’s in the art department?” His tone had a definite “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” ring to it.

I looked around as if someone might be eavesdropping. The place was crowded, but nobody was paying any attention to us. “Graphic art.”

He frowned. “Like what? Pen and ink?”

“Kind of. This friend of Lissa’s draws graphic novels, and I talked to him about it a bit before Christmas. Then when the winter schedule came out, I saw there was a class on graphic storytelling. It sounded fun so I signed up. And it’s really cool.”

“You? Drawing comic books?”

“Not comic books—but I did make up an action hero, just to see if I could do it. We’re learning how to draw people doing stuff. Telling a story visually, instead of with words. You know.”

He shook his head. “I guess I don’t. My brain must be completely one-sided. I mean, I’m drawing apples in Visual Media because we have to have the Arts credit, but mostly I don’t get art at all, except as something to look at on people’s walls besides paint.”

But his words triggered something in my head, so that his voice faded a little as I thought about it. What if I actually wasn’t a science-and-music geek at all, like my brothers? What if I was only good at those things because I was pushed into them? After all, I was the girl practicing scales by the hour when all the other kids in our building were at the pool or playing in the park. I was the one missing out on track and the drama club because I had to go home for practice and study. I was the girl who had to show my report card to my dad and feel the sag of disappointment when he wasn’t satisfied with my grades.

Had I really overlooked what I could love in favor of doing what I was good at?

There was a scary thought. Because if I changed the status quo and started to find out what kinds of things I could love instead of doing what my parents expected, I’d disappoint them like I never had before. And my whole future would go from being a path that I could see and depend on from here to fifty, to a cloud where I couldn’t see the next step.

The only one who might know what lay beyond that cloud was God. What I really needed to do here was ask Him what He wanted me to do.

“Gillian? Are you okay?” Lucas leaned in, looking concerned.

I blinked. “What? Yeah. Sure. I was just thinking.”

“That’s scary.” He smiled.

“It sure is.” I saw that his tall glass was empty. So was mine. “Well . . . should we head back?”

But as he held the door for me again—how long would it take me to get used to this?—I wondered if I’d ever be able to head back from this moment. To do what my folks wanted without question. Or, if I was honest with myself, if I really wanted to.

To: kazg©hotmail.com

From: GChang©spenceracad.edu

Date: January 23, 2009

Re: Graphic art

Hey, I have a question for you. When/how did you know that graphic novels were what you wanted to do?

The reason I ask is I had this lightbulb moment about the whole science and music thing, and how maybe I’m good at something, but it might not be the thing I love. Did you ever see that movie
Center Stage
, where the one ballerina isn’t so good, but she dances because she loves it, and that shows onstage? The other ballerina is technically perfect, but she only does it because her mother wants her to. Eh, you probably didn’t see it. Chick flick. Anyway, how does a person tell?

Lissa says to say hi. Hi!!!

Also, I’m attaching a thing I did in class. My first try at a panel. Tell me what you think, but be kind. :)

Gillian

Chapter 5

O
N WEEKENDS
, the last thing you want to think about is homework, but during winter term, going out and doing something in the pouring rain is even less appealing. So we do indoor things: shopping or going to an exhibition or a movie.

Lissa, Shani Hanna, and I got to talking about movies over lunch, and afterward we all came back to our room to scan the theater schedules online. If Carly were here instead of in San Jose, she’d have voted for the latest Jane Austen adaptation so she could drool over the costumes. As it was, Lissa and Shani couldn’t decide between that and the new Johnny Depp movie (which Lissa, who has JDOCD, had already seen once anyway). I didn’t care—I was just antsy and wanted to do something that would make me stop thinking and kill some time until my relatives picked me up at six.

When my iPhone chimed, I welcomed the diversion and left the girls to their decision. I’d go with the majority.

“What are you up to?” Lucas asked, and in spite of myself, my spirits lifted.

“I’m just hanging in the room. I thought you’d be going to see your dad.”

“No, he’s busy today, and it’s some confidential thing so I can’t observe.”

I made a sympathetic noise.

“I was wondering. . . . There’s a high-tech exhibit opening down at the Moscone Center this afternoon, and Steve Jobs and James Cameron are giving joint keynotes tonight. Dad got tickets but he can’t go, so I wondered if you’d be interested?”

It could be an exhibit about old phone books, but if it meant going with Lucas, I was interested.
Do not squee. Be cool
. “What kind of high tech?”

“Mostly gaming, I think, but there’s supposed to be some cool VR as well. A whole environment you can step into and interact with, not just a booth.”

Virtual reality wasn’t really my thing, with the eye visors and automated gloves and all, but, hey, I’d be going with him.
Wait a minute, girl. What about your cousins? The parade? The Slanted Door?

“Um, it sounds really fun, but I had something planned with my aunt and uncle and their kids. Will it still be going on Sunday afternoon?”

“No, the tickets are for tonight only, because it’s the opening. But they’ll get us into the exhibits in the afternoon.”

Oh, boy. I thought fast. Jack and Isabel and the kids would go watch the parade anyway. They’d probably only invited me because they figured I was all alone out here, and they wanted to be kind. We kept in touch pretty often, but it wouldn’t be like ditching immediate family, which would be impossible.

Things came up. Aunt Isabel would understand. This would be my first real date. How could I say no to that?

“Let me see if I can cancel with my relatives, okay? I’ll call you back.”

“I need to know pretty soon. If you can’t go, I can always ask someone from the Science Club.”

There were girls in the Science Club. No way was
that
going to happen.

Aunt Isabel answered her cell so fast she must have had it in her pocket. “I’m out in the garden, trimming ferns,” she said. “How are you? I can’t wait to see you tonight. It’s going to be so much fun!”

“Um, Aunt Isabel, about that. Something’s come up.” Silence. “Are you there?”

“Sure I’m here. Is everything all right, Gillian? Did you get sick? Do you need me to come? Jack can stay with the kids if—”

Meaning only sickness or death would pre-empt a family get-together. “No, no. I’m fine. It’s just that I’ve had a one-of-a-kind invite to a big science show tonight and I hoped you guys wouldn’t mind going to dinner and the parade without me.”

More silence. In the background on her end, I heard a bird trill. “Oh, Gillian,” she said softly. “A science show? Like a school thing?”

I saw the way out. “I’m going with people from school,” I said, giving the truth the tiniest twist. “And it’s related to what we’re doing in Physics.” Even though I was taking Chemistry. There would be computer modeling there, and that was what Lucas did, right?

Aunt Isabel let out a long breath. “Well, I suppose school isn’t going to stop just because it’s a holiday for some of us. I’m so sorry, Gillian. I was really looking forward to seeing you. The kids will be so disappointed.”

“I can take the train over there one of these weekends,” I said eagerly. “I’ll bring them their red envelopes—it’ll just be a little late, that’s all. I really want to see you guys, too.”

“I’ll look forward to that. We’ll be thinking of you tonight.”

“Me, too. Thanks, Aunt Isabel. I’ll see you soon.”

With a deep breath of relief, I disconnected. That had been easier than I expected. The hard part would come when she told Mom all about it. Maybe I could use the whole “connected to schoolwork” scenario with her, too. If there were two things my parents held sacred, they were work and school. Nothing was allowed to interfere—even family holidays, as my dad had proven time and again.

I called Lucas back and we agreed to meet in the common room at two. I tapped the phone off and found the others looking at me. “What?”

“You ditched Chinese New Year for Lucas?” Lissa asked.

“Yes.” I felt the smile warming my face. Or maybe it was a flush. “He asked me to go to a thing at the Moscone Center, so we’re taking off at two.”

“What about the movie?” Shani asked. “That’s when the matinee is.”

“I guess I’m not going.” Maybe there’d be dinner involved. A real date. My first one. How exciting was that?

“But, Gillian . . .” Lissa’s voice trailed away.

“What? You guys can still go. Or wait ’til Carly comes back and we can all go tomorrow night. Come on—if I can’t go see the parade with my family, I for sure can’t go to a movie with you.”

“I guess not.”

“You guys, Lucas just asked me out again. You should be happy for me.”

“We are,” Lissa assured me, but there was something else in her eyes. Had I hurt their feelings? How could something great happening to me hurt them? We were friends. We supported each other. We celebrated the good things. And going to an exhibit downtown with Lucas certainly qualified as a good thing.

I slid off the bed. “Come on. Help me figure out what to wear. I only have an hour.”

Lissa and Shani exchanged a look. Any other time I’d have called them on it and gotten them to spit out what they were thinking. But I didn’t have much time. An exhibition wasn’t exactly a walk to the juice bar.

“Come on, Lissa,” I begged. “I helped you out, remember? You owe me. And it’s a Chinese tradition that you have to pay off all your debts before New Year’s.”