The Many Masks of Andy Zhou by Jack Cheng

Author:Jack Cheng [Cheng, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2023-06-06T00:00:00+00:00

WHO YOU CAN AND CAN’T BE FRIENDS WITH

Every few months, our group of Shanghainese families take turns hosting a party, where we each bring a different dish to share and eat it buffet-style. Cindy once told me this is called a potluck, but we’ve always just called it a Chinese party.

This time, it’s at the Langs’ new house. We drive north on the freeway, all the way to 25 Mile Road, and turn into a subdivision surrounded by tall pine trees. Baba first met Lang Uncle at the community center where Cindy and I used to go for Chinese school. Lang Uncle’s Taiwanese, and Xu Auntie is Shanghainese, and they’ve both been in Michigan for a lot longer than we have. We even call them Uncle and Auntie instead of the Chinese words.

As we pull up, I see the cars first, a line of mostly SUVs parked along the street and up the half-circle driveway. The house itself has gray wood paneling with big clean windows. It almost looks like a cabin. Inside, there’s a tall entry area with a dangling chandelier, and I can hear chatter from the other rooms, conversations in mid-avalanche.

I politely say hello to Lang Uncle and Xu Auntie, then stand by holding the tray with Hao Bu’s spring rolls while the grown-ups talk.

“How are you doing?” Lang Uncle asks Ah Dia. “Are you feeling better?”

“I took him to get an MRI scan this week,” answers Baba. “But we’re still waiting on the results. Kingston, thank you so much for help us figure out.”

“The healthcare system in this country—what a mess.” Lang Uncle shakes his head. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

Baba smiles and quickly changes the subject, like it’s all no big deal. I wonder if that’s not a Cindy thing but a Chinese thing. He and Mama start peppering the Langs with questions about the house:

“How many rooms are there?”

“How many square feet is it?”

“How much is the heating bill?”

Lang Uncle says he’ll give them a tour. Xu Auntie takes the spring rolls from me and tells me all the kids are in the basement. My grandparents and I follow her into the kitchen, Hao Bu holding Ah Dia’s arm. Even though he’s not wearing his neck brace anymore, he still hesitates when he moves, almost like he doesn’t trust his own body.

I say a quick hello to the other moms, who are all standing around the big kitchen island. They ask me how school’s going, and comment on how skinny I am, how I should be eating more, asking if I feel cold wearing shorts underneath a hoodie. I politely answer, then escape downstairs.

The Langs’ basement is finished, unlike ours back home. The stairs don’t creak going down, and they’re covered in nice carpet—the thick kind that’s the color of Oreo ice cream, and loops over instead of having ends that stick up. Downstairs, the Feng twins are playing a smash fighting game with Lydia Tong on one of

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