Bitter Melon

by Cara Chow

  I think about the look on Derek’s face as he saw the bunk bed. Could pity and disgust be the emotions it elicited from him?

  Then I stop myself. This is what she wants me to think. She is trying to brainwash me, just as she always has. I won’t fall for it.

  But just as I think this, Mom’s tone changes.

  “That is why I told you not to date boys,” she says. Her eyes turn red. Her voice is no longer mocking. Instead, it is choked with disappointment and anguish. “That’s why I told you to go to Berkeley and become a doctor or TV journalist,” she says. “Then no one could look down on you, not even Derek. You could do better than Derek. You could get a Chinese Derek. You could have your pick of many Dereks. They would line up at your door, begging to take you home to meet their parents. But you throw it away. And once you sell yourself cheap, no one will ever believe that you are valuable. Who pays full price for a used car?

  “That dress is cursed, you know,” Mom adds. “I know. I attracted your father with that dress.”

  Suddenly, the dress feels cold and creepy against my skin. The smell of mothballs makes me nauseous.

  Mom turns away and exits the bedroom. Her posture is slumped and her footsteps are heavy, painting the picture of defeat.

  I hurry to the bathroom and remove the dress as quickly as possible. No matter how much I rub my skin with my wet washcloth, I can’t remove the mothball smell.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I wish I could call Theresa and cry on her shoulder about what happened after the prom, but I don’t dare. The Monday after the prom, I see her in the locker room before first period.

  “Hi,” I say. My voice is tentative.

  Theresa doesn’t look at me. She continues placing her books in her locker.

  “Look, about the prom …,” I begin, but the end of my sentence drifts away from me.

  Theresa is now reorganizing her things, even though they were perfectly organized to begin with. After about a minute, she finally looks at me. Her eyes are hard and cold.

  “If Derek hadn’t asked you to the prom, would you still have encouraged me to call Alfred?” she asks.

  Ashamed, I look down.

  “And if you had met someone at the fall dance, would you have discouraged me from calling him in the first place?” she adds.

  Again, I say nothing.

  “That’s what I thought.” Theresa goes back to reorganizing her books. Then she closes her locker door just a little harder than usual. Though I am still looking at her feet, I can feel her eyes boring into my forehead. “You’re selfish,” she says.

  I nod. “I’m sorry,” I say.

  I hope that this admission will dissolve her anger. Instead, she turns on her heel and walks away. I feel as though she is pulling my skin with her, tearing it off my body, exposing all the ugliness underneath. I blink back my tears as I sort out my own books. I lost Derek, and now I’ve lost Theresa too. Theresa is probably the nicest person I’ve ever met. She was my best friend, perhaps the only real friend I’ve ever had.

  A few seconds later, I hear a small voice behind me.

  “You were right.”

  It’s Theresa.

  “The night after we went to Macy’s, I called Alfred,” she says. “He didn’t call me after the fall dance because he lost my number, just like you said. He forgot to retrieve my number from his pants pocket. Then his mom forgot to check his pockets before washing his pants. I would never have called him if you hadn’t encouraged me.”

  “I’m really glad that you got to go to the prom with him,” I say. “I only wish I had encouraged you to call him sooner.”

  “I’m sorry too,” Theresa says. “I can understand why you didn’t tell me that you were going to the prom with Derek. After all, when Alfred invited me, I did the same thing. I didn’t want you to feel bad because I had someone and you didn’t.”

  “I guess we should have just told each other the truth,” I say. “Then we could have double-dated.”

  “Yeah,” Theresa agrees. “It would have been fun.”

  “So, how did it go?” I ask.

  Theresa goes on and on about her date with Alfred, about what they ate and what they said. She tells me about the two-hour phone call they had the next day and the date they went on the day after. I swallow my own anguish as she tells me her good news. I focus on listening. I focus on being happy for her.

  I don’t call Derek for the next week. I tell myself that I need time to let things cool. Deep inside, though, I’m scared. What if he does think I’m cheap? Is that why he avoided taking photos, not because he wanted to wait for a shorter line but because he didn’t want any evidence of our being together? After a week, I consider calling him, but every time I think about it, all my doubts creep up. A week becomes two weeks, then three weeks, then a month.

  Derek doesn’t call me either. I tell myself that it’s because he doesn’t want to get me into further trouble. Deep down, however, I hear a nagging whisper telling me that he hasn’t called because my mother has sullied his image of me. The more I think this, the more afraid I am to call him.

  In June, I am chosen to give the valedictorian speech. This means that I got the highest grade point average in the class, even higher than Theresa’s.

  Over dinner, I decide to tell Mom. We are having clay pot rice with Chinese pork sausage and Chinese broccoli.

  “I’m going to be the valedictorian at my graduation,” I say, using my most casual voice.

  Mom doesn’t look at me. She just continues chewing, as though I have said nothing. Perhaps she doesn’t know what valedictorian means.

  “It means that I got the highest grade point average,” I add.

  Still no reaction from Mom. Could it be that she is distracted by her own thoughts and did not hear me?

  “I’m going to be—”

  “I heard you the first time,” Mom retorts. “Do you think I’m deaf?” Then she continues eating.

  I swallow the lump in my throat. I remind myself of her muted reaction after my CAA speech win. Maybe she is happy for me but is hiding it. Maybe this weekend she will tell Minnie at the bank, Mr. and Mrs. Tai at the bakery, or Lynn at the grocery store.

  “What’s so great about getting the highest grades if they can’t get you into Berkeley?” Mom says. “Theresa didn’t get the highest grades, but she took calculus and she got the higher SAT score. That is why she got into Berkeley. So if I were you, I would stop bragging like a hotshot and acknowledge the truth—that the last four years have been a complete waste.”

  I brace against the sting in my eyes and blink back my tears. The following Saturday, we go to the bank, the bakery, and the grocery store. Mom says nothing to Minnie, the Tais, or Lynn about my valedictorian status. I start to wonder if I ever achieved anything at all.

  A week before graduation, I am supposed to practice my valedictorian speech with Ms. Taylor, but I have to postpone our meeting, because I’ve been blocked and unable to write my speech.

  “Frances, graduation is just one week away,” Ms. Taylor says.

  Though I already know this, hearing her say it makes me panic even more.

  “Do you want to meet and brainstorm this?” she asks.

  “No. Just give me a couple of days. I’ll get it done,” I say. I sound way more confident than I feel.

  But Ms. Taylor doesn’t buy it. “Is everything okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah. Just under a lot of pressure. Don’t worry. I’ll get it done.” Before she can argue, I add, “I need to hurry home now so I can work on it.”

  On the way out, I see Derek, leaning against his car, which is illegally parked in front of the school. The moment he sees me, he straightens up and peers at me, his eyes searching and unsure.

  He didn’t abandon me, as Mom had predicted. He came back for me. Everything I feared is untrue.

  My heart is singing as Derek drives me home. He reaches over and places his warm hand on my cold, clammy one.

  “Sorry
my hands are cold,” I say.

  “It’s okay,” he replies. “I’m always too hot, so it’s refreshing to be with a girl who acts as natural air-conditioning.”

  I blush.

  “Don’t start blushing,” he says. “Then it’ll get hot again and I’ll have to roll down the windows. Speaking of windows, I’ve been thinking about what you said. About the cramped house and the window. I think you’re right, and I’m making some changes.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what kind?”

  “Maybe I don’t have to surrender to the Dark Side after college. I’ll still go to Harvard, and I may still end up studying law, but that doesn’t mean that I have to go work for my dad. I could work somewhere else. I could even work for the Other Side.” Derek glances at me from the corner of his eye and grins.

  “Or you could work for him and insist on doing only pro bono work,” I say.

  “Yeah,” he says. “He’d love that.”

  We are silent for a few blocks. Then Derek says, “You’re still going to Scripps, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How does your mom feel about it?”

  “She doesn’t know.”

  “Really? How are you going to pull it off?”

  “I’m just going to keep it a secret until the last minute, when it’s too late for her to stop me,” I say.

  Derek nods. “I assume she’s not paying for it, then.”

  “No, but that’s okay,” I say. “I got some scholarships. I’m hoping to get a campus job too.”

  “So you could use a summer job, right?” Derek says. “That way, you could start saving up money sooner.”

  A summer job. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner! “But how do I get one?” I ask.

  “My dad’s looking for someone to shelve books, run errands, and photocopy. He usually hires teenage aspiring lawyers. You could be the first TV newscaster.”

  I roll my eyes. “Nice of you to think of me,” I say.

  “Actually, I’m only thinking of myself. I’m shelving books over the summer. I’m just trying to improve my work conditions.”

  He pulls over a couple of blocks away from my apartment.

  “I won’t ask if I can come inside,” he says with a wink.

  I’m relieved that we can talk about that horrible morning with my mother.

  “I am so sorry about what happened that day,” I blurt out. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

  “I was so afraid that she had turned you off.”

  “She did. But you don’t.”

  I let his kind words anoint me. But I need to make myself worthy.

  “I have another confession to make,” I say. “When my mom talked about Theresa … that was the same Theresa that you met at the prom. You know, Alfred’s date?”

  Derek takes a moment to remember. Then he shrugs. “I figured as much.”

  “You mean … you knew?”

  “In retrospect,” he says, “the way she looked at you plus your eagerness to leave right afterwards … I figured you weren’t strangers.”

  He knew all along. I blush with shame.

  I hear Mom’s voice in my head. Poor Theresa. She is such a bad liar, not like you.

  “I’m afraid that what my mom said about me is true,” I say.

  Derek smiles. “That you’re a slut? I think not.”

  “No,” I say, blushing even hotter. “That I’m a bad friend.”

  Derek looks surprised. “Why do you say that?”

  “Theresa’s done so much for me and I … haven’t exactly returned the favor.”

  “Do you think friends should be keeping score?”

  “She’s not like that,” I say. “She met Alfred at the fall dance. They really hit it off, but when he didn’t call her … I discouraged her from calling him.”

  “How come?”

  “Because … I didn’t want to be the only one without a boyfriend.”

  Derek’s face becomes serious, but he says nothing. I am revealing the ugliness in me. I’m on the verge of losing him again.

  “She’s always been better than me,” I explain.

  This is the truth that I’ve never been able to speak to anyone, not even myself. I hope that he will say, No she’s not, or something like that.

  Instead, he says, “Why is that a bad thing?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out.

  “It’s good to have someone around who’s better than you. It gives you someone to chase. It’s like what you said in your old speech,” Derek points out. “At the top, where else is there to go except down? If I knew each time I competed that I would win, I’d probably quit. I mean, what would be the point? There would be nothing to strive for.”

  “Really?” I say. “I would love to enter competitions knowing I would win all the time.”

  Derek laughs and touches my cheek. I find this gesture very endearing.

  “What are your plans tonight?” he asks.

  I groan. “I need to write my graduation speech. I was supposed to practice today, but I had to postpone, because I’ve been totally blocked.”

  “Maybe Theresa should do it instead, considering that she’s so much better than you,” Derek says, keeping a straight face.

  “Yeah,” I agree, even though Derek is joking. “Even when she’s not better than me, she’s better than me. Last November, we competed in this Chinese American speech tournament. I won, and she didn’t even place, yet …”

  Then, little by little, an idea for my speech begins to form.

  “I gotta go,” I say. I give him a peck on the lips and rush home.

  The following Monday afternoon, I meet with Ms. Taylor in her office after school. She sits at the back of the room with her cup of strong black coffee. I stand at the front of the room, gather my breath, and begin.

  “Many of our coed peers probably wonder why we chose to go to a school like St. Elizabeth’s. Did our parents force us to come here so that we could be cloistered from boys? For some of us, that may be the case. But that’s not the reason St. Elizabeth’s exists. An all-girls school is not so much a safe haven from boys and dating as it is a safe haven for learning and achievement. Without boys to distract or eclipse us, we could speak up in class, assume leadership positions, and achieve high academic goals. This achievement will contribute to our self-confidence, self-esteem, and self-efficacy. It will help us to achieve economic freedom and personal empowerment.

  “School is supposed to be a place of achievement. We work hard to get the highest grades. We join sports, academic decathlon, and speech teams, and we compete to win. Later, we compete to get into the best colleges. Then, after college, we compete to get the best jobs and earn the highest incomes. We are always striving to be number one.

  “There’s only one problem with this model. Not everyone can win. In every competition, there has to be a loser. So if fifty students compete in a speech contest, and only one person wins, are the other forty-nine contestants losers? Were their efforts completely pointless? How about the basketball team that got into the finals but lost the championship? How about the team that did its best but never won a single game during the whole season? How about the student who ran for school president but lost the election, or the student who didn’t get the highest grade point average? How about the students who didn’t get into Harvard, Stanford, or Berkeley? If we can’t be the best, are we just wasting our time?

  “Maybe there is a deeper lesson to learn here, a lesson that can’t be graded or measured. I was chosen to give this speech because I have achieved a lot, and I’m going to share something I’ve learned on this path of achievement and success.

  “It isn’t enough.

  “I’ll give you some examples. A C student who gets a B is thrilled. An A student who gets the same B is devastated. A shy first-time speaker is thrilled just to get through a speech contest. A winning speaker has to worry about defending her title. Same with the
champion tennis player or basketball team. And let’s face it: don’t we have higher expectations of our winners? Don’t we feel disappointed when they do well but not great? It’s not fair, but that’s how we think. So how do you know when you’re a winner? Easy. It’s when good is not enough.

  “I had to reevaluate what it meant to be a winner. I remember what a great mentor of mine said. She said to me, ’Competition is about comparing people, judging who is the best. According to those rules, whoever wins is successful, and everyone else loses.

  “ ‘But I want you to think about success differently. Winning is part effort and part luck. What judges think, how well other competitors do, that’s luck. Talent, that’s also luck. Some people are born with more and some with less. Luck is totally out of your control. What is under your control is your effort.’

  “She also said, ‘Reward time isn’t after the competition, when they hand out trophies. Reward time is now. It’s the thrill of competing, the opportunity to show them what you’ve got. Relish this time. Don’t worry about how other people are doing. Focus on what you’re doing. If you’re doing your best, if you’re having fun, then you’re a success.’

  “When I look back, my greatest accomplishment in high school has nothing to do with competition and winning. I learned to use my own judgment and not to follow others blindly. I learned to judge myself based on my own standards. I learned to find my own voice. I learned to speak my own truth. I have nothing to show for these achievements, no grades, no medals, trophies, or diploma. Yet these are the achievements that can’t be taken away by loss, failure, or misunderstanding.

  “In my future, I know that I will have both wins and losses, good times and bad. But if I remember to think for myself and speak my own truth, I can’t go wrong. I can still be proud of myself. When I look back on what I got out of my high school education, this is what I am most grateful for.”