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JULIE

Two weeks later, things are back to normal—whatever normal is now. I see Randall at school, and we don’t acknowledge each other. It’s just like how it was before. Sometimes I sneak a smile at him, but it’s like I’m invisible. A ghost floating in the hallways.

Today, I tell myself I’m not going to look at Randall. I will act like he is a ghost.

London walks down the hallway with Randall. They are chatting intently about something. Since when are Randall and London friends?

“How’s it going, Julie?” asks London.

I plaster on a fake smile. “I’m great.”

Randall doesn’t even register my existence. They continue walking and talking. I act like I’m not eavesdropping, but I hear something about a bank. Randall thanks London for his help.

I continue walking down the hallway. Nothing makes sense anymore.

L ater, when I get home, I make myself a snack with leftover taro tang yuan and drizzle it with sweet ginger syrup.

It occurs to me that I don’t really know much about my grandfather. He died from liver cancer when I was five. The only memories I have of him were the candies he’d sneak me and Tyler, the golden ginger syrup we’d make together, and the kung fu movies we would watch at full volume with him, even when I didn’t understand what was happening.

After my grandfather passed away, Randall’s family became our family. We were inseparable. But after the fire, we were on our own.

Who was my grandfather and what does he mean to our family?

I head to the attic, where my mom stores all of our mementos. I climb up the rickety ladder and flick on the single overhead light.

It’s pretty dusty up here. Sunlight streams in from the window. I search through the boxes. I’m convinced I’ll find something that used to belong to my grandfather.

I flip open a box labeled, “Julie Kid Stuff.” Inside, I find art I made in kindergarten, misshapen Mother’s Day pottery gifts, and a shoebox with photos.

I sit down with the photos. A cloud of dust surrounds me. I cough, then open the lid of the box.

The first thing I find is a photo of Randall, Tyler, Mercy, and me from Halloween. We were dressed up as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I chuckle. We didn’t even really like the turtles, but Ahma had found the costumes for ten dollars at a yard sale. The four of us wanted to go as a group costume, so we did.

I continue looking through the photos. I stop on one. It’s just Randall and me with our arms around each other. It’s from third grade after we performed in the school musical. This was back when Randall went by a different name. He had longer hair then, and his smile was quieter, more unsure.

Sitting at the bottom of the box is a Chinese figurine. How odd. Definitely not something of mine. A bald man posed like he’s mid–kung fu kick. His jet black eyebrows are turned up, focused. I hold it in my palm.

My mom pops her head up through the attic door. “Whatcha doing, honey?”

I shove the photos back into the shoebox. “I’m looking for some family history.”

As she climbs the ladder, I put the photos away and close the box.

“Oh my goodness. It is dust city in here. I really do need to come up here with the vacuum. What are you looking for in particular?”

“Something about Grandpa,” I reply.

Her face freezes. “You won’t find anything in here. Ahma keeps all of his belongings in her closet.”

“Everything?”

“He was a man of few things, so yes.”

I present the figurine. My mom places her hand on her heart. She takes it from me with the gentlest touch.

“Where did you find this?”

“In a box labeled ‘Julie Kid Stuff.’”

She turns the figurine around in her hand, examining it from all angles. “It was your grandfather’s. I got it for him when he was first diagnosed with liver cancer. He kept it by his bedside in the hospital as a good luck charm. This figurine is in a tiger pose, which is said to be a movement that conquers all opponents. I would do this pose when I saw him just to make him smile.”

She hands the memento back to me. I cradle it in my hands as if it were a delicate egg.

“Why the sudden interest in your grandfather?”

“I don’t know much about Wai Gong.”

My mom wraps her arm around me. “It’s hard for your grandmother to talk about him. She misses him so much.”

I squeeze her hand. “I understand, Mom.”

She kisses my cheek. “I just came up to tell you that your brother is digging around in your room. I told him to leave your stuff alone, but he said it was important.”

I follow my mom down the attic ladder. I wipe a dust bunny off of my forehead. As I get closer to my bedroom, I see the door is cracked open. My latest stack of to-be-read romance books are splayed across the floor haphazardly.

I push the door open angrily. “What the f—”

I see the notebook in Tyler’s hands. The one that belongs to me and Randall. The one we wrote in. I rush toward him and reach for it. He has a tight grip on it.

“Why are you committing a crime in my bedroom?” I demand.

I can’t wrestle the notebook out of his hands so I let it go. He waves it in my face.

“I read everything, Jules.”

I feel the blood draining from face. Tyler pulls out a pen from his pocket. He clicks on the top of it. Black light streams out of it.

He flips through the notebook and shines the light on the paper. The empty sheets reveal Randall’s words. The love declarations like, “I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship.” It hurts to read his words now.

I stupidly try to snatch the notebook out of his hands, but it’s too late. Tyler knows it all.

“I’m telling Ahma and Mom tonight even though it’ll break their hearts.”

“Please don’t, Ty. It’s over anyway. No one needs to know about my dumb crush.”

My heart thumps as I grab his hand. He glares at me with such razor-sharp eyes that I have to look away.

To his feet, I say, “I made a mistake. I’m really sorry for lying to you.”

I stumble toward him to hug him, but he turns away from me.

“I don’t even know you anymore,” says Tyler.

He hugs the notebook to his chest and tears out of my room. My vision is blurred.

I can only think of one thing to do. I grab my phone and type out with shaky hands.

Me

My family knows now. Tyler found the notebook.

I hit send. I slump down onto my bed and sob, gulping great big breaths.

RANDALL

Mercy and I are playing Mario Kart . We’re in Shy Guy Falls. I edge past her Princess Rosalina as Donkey Kong on my tricked-out motorcycle. I am easily in first place. Then, Mercy tosses squid ink on the screen.

“Got you!” shouts Mercy.

I stick my tongue out at her, determined to win my first-place spot back. Her phone dings and lights up. She glances at it. I use it as my opportunity to bypass her and secure my first-place spot. I use my three red mushrooms to speed ahead to race over the finish line.

“That was almost too easy,” I say as my rider celebrates by clapping his monkey paws together. I nudge her with my elbow to rub in my win.

Mercy is staring at her phone. “They know,” she says to me.

“They know what?”

As a response, Mercy shoves her phone in my face. I see a text from Julie on her screen.

Julie

My family knows now. Tyler found the notebook.

I’m confused for a second and then it comes together in a wild flash. Julie’s family knows about us.

In a panic, I look at Mercy. I don’t have to say anything. She knows what to do.

“You stay here. I’ll see what’s what,” says Mercy.

I nod. She hops off my bed. I follow. Before she leaves, she squeezes my shoulder.

“It’ll be okay.”

I close my bedroom door and press my ear against the door. I don’t hear any yelling. Yet.

JULIE

I stop crying long enough to notice that the house is eerily quiet. I blow my nose and wipe my eyes before cracking my bedroom door open. I hear no one. I see no one.

I thought Tyler would’ve ranted about me for at least an hour. I go into the kitchen.

No one is there.

“Mom? Tyler?”

The car keys are off the hook. Their shoes are not by the back door. They left?

It takes me only a minute to realize where they went. I rush to get shoes on and get my bike.

I strap on my bike helmet. I haul my bike out to the driveway. I take a minute to remember the route that I had memorized as a kid.

I ride as fast as I can.

Neighbors wave at me. I don’t wave back, focused on getting to the Hurs’ home as fast as possible.

Wind whips across my face. I suck in air to try to calm myself down, but I’m crying because I know what’s coming. I’ve ruined everything.

I push my legs to pedal faster. I turn the bend down the same street where we used to sell homemade boba drinks in the summer.

I see my mom’s car parked in the Hurs’ driveway.

I am too late. I can’t turn back though. I hop off my bike and accept my fate.

It’s not a good sign that I can already hear yelling. I run up the path to the front door. Through the large glass door, I see Ahma pointing at Halmeoni and yelling. Tyler is next to her like a bodyguard. My mom wedges herself between Ahma and Halmeoni.

I fling open the door. The first person I see is Randall. His arms are crossed. His brown eyes slice into me. I try to wordlessly apologize, but it’s too late.

Ahma shouts, “Keep your family away from mine!”

Halmeoni’s face is screwed up into a scowl. She pokes her finger toward my grandmother.

“Get out of my house! We don’t want you here,” howls Halmeoni.

I rush in like a referee between them. Two tiny titans who can destroy each other with just looks, and there is murder in their eyes. My mom gently pulls Ahma from Halmeoni.

I face Halmeoni. “We’ll go. Just please stop yelling.”

“You!” she shouts. “You hurt my Randall.”

Tyler steps in. “Don’t say anything else.”

I grab at his arms. “Please, let’s just go.”

He lets me pull him. I can’t bear to look at Ahma. I can’t look at her disappointment in me. Ahma continues to mutter as Tyler gently wraps his arm around her. The three of us walk out to the driveway.

I glance at Randall and mouth, “I’m sorry,” but he turns away from me.

Tyler helps Ahma into the passenger seat. I hover by his side. He shuts the car door. My grandmother still won’t look at me. My mom sits in the back. Through the open window, I reach for her. She pulls away from my touch.

Everything inside me hurts like my insides are shards of glass.

“You shouldn’t have come,” mutters Tyler. “When we get home, stay in your room. Ahma doesn’t want to see you right now.”

I bite my lip and nod. I wait as Tyler drives away with my grandmother. I decide to ride home slowly to delay the inevitable silence and heartbreak at home.

I pedal past the places I knew so well as a kid, and I keep hoping that this is a nightmare and I’ll wake up really soon.

A car honks at me. The driver waves at me. I plaster on a smile as I wave back. I keep my face fixed the whole way home.