Page 27 of Next Time Will Be Our Turn
“Nothing more exotic than spaghetti with meat sauce. Her exact words were: ‘What do white people eat?’ ”
Ellery cackled. “She did not say that.”
“She did. She was so sincere about it too. She was like, ‘Sandwiches? Chicken? Oh, I know. Spaghetti!’ ”
“Tulip, that is so adorable. I love your mom already.”
I grimaced. “No, no, lower your expectations. She might be mean to you, I don’t know. And if you don’t like the spaghetti, don’t tell her.”
Ellery rolled her eyes. “Duh. I’m not gonna tell your mom, ‘This tastes like shit, Mrs.Tulip.’ ”
“Don’t call her Mrs.Tulip. Call her…uh…”
“What’s her name?”
“You mustn’t call her by her name, that is disrespectful as hell. Call her Mrs.Chen. No, wait, Auntie Chen.”
“Auntie Chen. Got it.”
“This is a mistake,” I groaned. “It’s all Iris’s fault. She brought up James, so I had to deflect and bring you up—”
“James, the cradle robber.”
“He’s just a friend.”
Ellery glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Do you like him too?”
I bit my lip and looked down at my lap. I was glad Ellery was driving so she had to focus on the road. “Maybe. Yeah, I guess. He’s a nice guy.”
“He is.”
When did the atmosphere become so unbearably thick? I changed the subject. “Hey, when do you want to work on our college apps?” Ellery and I had discussed college applications before and agreed to work on them together. Part of me wanted to ask why she didn’t work on them with Trish, but I didn’t want Ellery to be like “You’re right, I should work on them with Trish instead.”
“We could start this weekend. Hit the UCs.”
I nodded. My top choice was Berkeley because I liked the name “Berkeley”; it sounded so American. Second choice UCLA, third would be San Diego. Ellery’s top choice was Irvine, because Irvine had the best writing program. I’d argued that it wasprobably not much better than Berkeley’s writing program, and she’d told me to stop being such a snob. It would be okay, I consoled myself. Irvine wasn’t very far away from Berkeley, and anyway, I knew it was foolish to assume we’d even get into our top choices.
After getting out of the car, Ellery opened the trunk and took out a small bouquet of tulips.
“What are these for?” I said.
“Your mom.”
“Whaaat? Why?”
“It’s a thing called being polite, Tulip. She’s feeding me dinner—white people food—hence I am giving her flowers.”
“Wow. God, I never would have guessed you had it in you to be so thoughtful.”
“I am full of surprising depth.”
“Interesting choice with the tulips.”
Ellery winked at me. “I like tulips.”
Something in the way she said it made my breath catch, and I had to consciously shake it off as we walked to my apartment. I opened the front door cautiously, as though opening a cage that had a dangerous animal inside it.
“Mama? Ellery’s here.”
