Thom froze, caught standing in his yard, too panicked to run.
The boy didn’t stop staring, so she looked directly back at him. He was Asian, but she couldn’t pinpoint the exact ethnicity. Great. He probably thought they’d be instant best friends, and even though part of her wanted something like that more than anything, someone to talk to and sit with at lunch, someone who didn’t make her feel so lonely, a part of her didn’t.
What if Kathy felt the same way—that just because they were both Asian, everyone assumed they would be friends when Kathy didn’t even like Thom? Was that why Kathy had never wanted to be her friend? Thom’s heart sank with a flood of embarrassment. What if all this time, she’d made a fool of herself by trying so hard when all Kathy wanted to do was be left alone, not bothered by the new Asian kid just because they looked somewhat alike? Thom wouldn’t blame her.
The boy tossed his hair back and grinned widely. “Hi.”
His skin was pale in the way Ma loved—she was always complaining that Thom was too tan, especially since she’d joined soccer and spent hours every day in the sun. He had longish hair styled to perfection in a way Thom could only dream of, and wore fitted jeans hemmed at his calves.
Say something back. Clever. Not too squeaky.
“Hey?” It came out like she wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say.
Mochi lifted his leg and let out a stream of pee on the grass.
“Uh,” Thom said, desperately tugging on his leash, but Mochi ignored her, sniffing the air. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know anyone had moved in. I thought I saw a snake or something.”
“Really?” The boy’s eyes darted back and forth. “Weird.” He cleared his throat. “I’m Kha. What’s your name?” He was Vietnamese then.
“Thom.”
He held out a hand, and she hesitated before moving forward to shake it. His skin was hot, like he had a fever, and she let go quickly, both in shock but also because she was afraid to hurt him. Even when she stepped back, he felt warm, or maybe she was overheated from standing in the sun.
“I have always liked it when girls have boys’ names,” Kha said.
She blushed. “Well, it’s also a girl’s name.”
“It means ‘pungent’?”
“‘Sweet-smelling,’” she said, echoing Ma’s explanation every time Thom asked why she’d chosen a boy’s name. “Like a rose.”
“Oh,” he said. “Well, my grandma always says it when something smells delicious.”
Thom sighed. Every time she told someone her name, she had to defend it somehow, explaining what it meant or giving an excuse for having it. This probably never happened to Bethany. Or Sarah. Or Kathy.
“We just moved in,” Kha said.
“Cool.”
“You go to DeMille?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You?”
“Yeah. I start this week. Seventh grade.”
They were in the same grade. They might be in the same classes. Thom had skipped a grade back at her old school, when about half the kids her age were doing the same. It hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea then, but here in Troy, everyone was taller, bigger … meaner. Even some kids in the fifth grade were a foot taller than her.
“Maybe we’ll see each other at school.” He smiled.
Kha looked like he could be popular even if he didn’t try. You could just tell—some people were like that. Their very existence exclaimed cool. He had nice jeans and hair, for one thing, and he just looked comfortable, like nothing could bother him.
It would be nice to have someone to sit with at lunch instead of pretending she wasn’t hungry and hiding in the library. But he was probably just being nice, because, one, they were neighbors, and two, Asian. It felt like cheating, somehow, like she was using her culture to gain something she didn’t deserve.
And besides, who did he think he was? What if she were popular and too cool for him? How could he charge in and demand they be friends, just like that?
Actually, what she was really annoyed about was why she had never thought she could charge in and demand to have friends, just like that. People weren’t supposed to, were they?
“Yeah, maybe.” She tugged on Mochi’s leash as he moved toward Kha, his nose twitching, his tongue flopping out. He stopped suddenly, then whimpered, easing back and bumping against Thom’s leg.
“Um.” Kha’s wide eyes were fixed on Mochi. Was he afraid of dogs? Of Thom’s five-pound Pomeranian? Seriously, Mochi was made of 70 percent fur. “I gotta go,” Kha said. He stepped back into his house and grabbed the door.
Mochi growled and barked. She’d never seen him like this. Usually, he loved people and wanted to go home with everyone, as if he owed Thom and Ma absolutely no loyalty for raising and feeding him.
“Mochi,” Thom whispered. He whined and pulled toward their house. “What’s wrong with you?”
“See ya,” Kha said.
As soon as he closed the door, Mochi calmed down, prancing back to Thom and wagging his tail. But when she reached down to pet him, he whimpered and backed away.
“You are such a weird dog,” she said before tugging him toward home.
6
THOM KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG when she got back from her walk. She walked slowly into the living room to retrieve her backpack, but it was no longer on the couch. The room was spotless like usual, no throw pillows or blankets, just a plain white couch in front of the TV that they rarely watched, and several bookcases organized by genre and then author. Ma hated when Thom left things lying around, but she usually gave her at least until dinnertime to tidy up before scolding her. Why was the backpack already gone?
Ma was leaning against the dinner table, reading a piece of paper, Thom’s backpack lying open next to her hip. Thom lurched to a stop in horror.
“Thom, this is great. Why didn’t you tell me?” Ma waved the flyer for Culture Day. “You can wear your best áo dài! You’ll look cute. Everyone will love it.”
Thom opened her mouth to say something, but Ma kept going.
“You can wear the blue one with the pink flowers. Or maybe the white one—that’ll look better now that you’re dark. You need to stay out of the sun. Maybe if you stay inside until then, you’ll be pale enough and won’t look orange in the blue áo dài. Okay, that’s it, we keep you inside all weekend until Culture Day, and you won’t be tan anymore.”
Thom glanced at her reflection in the hallway mirror. She was tan even when soccer wasn’t in season, but Ma was obsessed with pale skin. She and Thuy’s mom had always lectured them to stay out of the sun, shoving hats in their hands and pushing the school to incorporate caps into their soccer uniforms. None of it had mattered, though, since they would never get the milky-white skin their mothers wanted.
But pale skin or not, Thom was never going to wear an áo dài to school.
“You can wear the … What you call that in English?” She gestured around her head. “A headdress. Yes, we have a matching one for your blue áo dài. You really need to be careful and stay inside when you not soccer playing, okay? You got it?”