Page 20 of Worth Fighting For

Mushu levels a flat gaze at me. “Mulan, we’re about to brave the wilderness. Of course there will be snakes. And scorpions, I shouldn’t be surprised. As well as loons.”

“What’s a loon?” I cry.

“You know, I’m not too sure myself. A wild bird would be my guess, but it could easily be some kind of fox? Who knows. Ask Google. Now put these boots on.”

In somewhat of a daze, I do as Mushu says, stuffing my feet into the boots. “I—I don’t know, they feel kind of tough.”

“That’s because they are. Snake bites, remember? Anyway, you’ll break them in soon enough.” Mushu stands back, looking me up and down. “You look like a real cowgirl.”

I gape at the mirror. Who is this girl staring back at me? “Why is my reflection someone I don’t know?”

“Girl, stop being so dramatic. You look like you’re ready to ride a bronco.”

“I don’t even know what a bronco is. Is that a wild cow?”

“Oh dear.” Mushu slaps a hand over her forehead. “We need to do a lot of work to get you ready for this trip, don’t we?”

“God, this isn’t going to work,” I moan, taking off the cowgirl hat and facing Mushu. “No one is going to buy that I grew up on a farm or a ranch or whatever it is my dad supposedly grew up on. What is even the difference between the two?”

In answer, Mushu places her hands on my shoulders and turns me back to face the mirror. “It’s going to work. You know how I know that? Because you’re the most determined human I have ever known. It’s honestly annoying as hell.”

“Thanks, cuz.”

“No, but really, do you know what it’s like growing up alongside you? My mom’s favorite phrase is: ‘Why can’t you be more like Mulan?’”

I draw in a sharp breath. “Oh, Mushu, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault you’re so driven. I mean, did our other cousins and I bitch about you behind your back? Incessantly.”

“You need to work on your pep talks.”

Mushu gives a wry smile. “My point is, even though it was very stressful for me and probably contributed to my teenage acne, at the end of the day, I’m grateful to have you as a cousin. Because you showed me to work harder and aim higher. God, without you as a cousin, I would probably have been—I don’t know—a high school dropout. I mean it,” she adds when I open my mouth to protest. “I was so aimless in high school. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, I still don’t, honestly. But I was so inspired by you because you always knew. You never wavered. From when we were kids, you were like, ‘I’m going to work in finance.’ Can you imagine how freaking obnoxious that was? You were only eight. I didn’t even know what finance was. I thought it was like fortune-telling or something.”

I laugh. “It kind of is like fortune-telling.”

“Huh. Yeah, you’re right. But anyway, you know what I’m getting at. You inspire me, cuz. And you’re going to inspire these people.”

I gaze doubtfully at the mirror. “The only thing I’m going to inspire looking like this is laughter.”

“Or admiration. And let’s face it, who are we kidding? I bet you’ve done your homework, haven’t you?”

I gnaw on my bottom lip and avoid meeting Mushu’s eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How many hours of reading have you done on ranches and distilleries since you found out you’re going on this trip?”

“Only the appropriate number of hours.”

“If it’s anything over one hour, it is not appropriate,” Mushu says dryly. “And what resources did you use? Wikipedia?”

I don’t answer.

“Great, so knowing you, you’ve spent at least five hours researching all the technical details of ranches and distilleries on Wikipedia.”

“Not just Wikipedia,” I grumble.

“God, you nerd,” Mushu says. “But that’s why I love you, cuz.”

I nudge Mushu with my shoulder. “I don’t deserve you.”

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