16. Nancy Might Not Be (That) Insane

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16. Nancy Might Not Be (That) Insane

I could always tell when my parents were mad at me.

I mean, they were usually mad at me for some reason or another. But when they were really mad at me, they’d switch from speaking Chinese to their badly accented English. That was when I knew it was time to pack the bags and grab the first available ticket to Egypt.

When Mr. Lotte dropped me off at home that night (slamming the door behind and revving off, probably to start drafting a lawsuit against me), I tried to sneak my way into the house. After the fiasco at Allison’s house, I was not in the mood for any interrogations about where I’d been. I was not in the mood for anything except throwing a pity party upstairs.

Unfortunately, my plan to sneak into my house and blend with the random Asian folks was void by the fact that said random Asian folks had all gone home. 

Plus, my parents were waiting for me right when I opened the door. That made sneaking in a bit of Mission Impossible-like challenge.

There was also the issue of my body not being a dream candidate for sneaking, either.

I stared at my parents and just sighed. It figured. I never got away with anything, remember?

Mom and Dad stared right back. Their faces were perfectly peaceful and controlled, which was the only thing more dangerous than them throwing pots and pans at my head.

Nancy was right behind them. She was looking at me with an oddly piteous expression, like I was a sacrificial lamb up for slaughter.

I figured the lamb had it better than I did at that moment.

“Do you know what time it is?” Mom said in quiet English.

Before I could decide whether or not that was a rhetorical question, Dad interrupted her. He was a sight to behold. His hair, which had been carefully gelled for the party, was flying in every direction, and his freshly ironed dinner party shirt had gotten all creased.

“Who have you been with?” he asked, his voice just as alarmingly calm as Mom’s. “Who dropped you off just now?”

“Allison’s dad,” I said, resigned.

His eyes bugged out of his head. “Allison? Who is Allison?”

“My classmate.”

“A girl?” Dad was thunderstruck.

“Kevin, you’re not…are you dating the white girl?” Mom said faintly.

Really?

Out of everything Mom could have been concerned with—me sneaking out without telling anyone, Grandpa Zhou faking his death for me, me destroying a girl’s precious birthday cake and crushing dreams everywhere—she was worried about the possibility of me dating someone she hadn’t approved of?

It was all so ridiculous that I laughed. And then I kept laughing, so that Mom and Dad looked quite alarmed.

“Dating?” I repeated, snorting. “Yeah, right. Like any girl in her right mind would date me.”

Far from dating me, Allison was probably at home stabbing a voodoo doll of me for ruining her birthday party.

“Yeah, I don’t think any sane girl would be attracted to Kevin,” Nancy piped up. Good old Nancy always had my back.

Dad struggled with this development. “So…what? You have been out for how long now?” he said in a strangled voice, his neck reddening by the second.

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