by Jennifer Yen
Where are you? Mom is threatening to call the police!
I check the time. Oh my god. It’s almost midnight.
“Grace, I need to get home right now or my mom’s going to kill me.”
I tumble out of Ben’s car in a panic. James hops out after me.
“Liza . . .”
Impulsively, I reach up on my tiptoes to hug him. His arms come around my back, and I catch a whiff of butter and cherry blossoms. Rather than bury my nose into his shirt—so, so tempting—I pull away with a strained smile.
“Good night, James.”
Grace kisses Ben on the cheek. “I’ll text you later.”
She and I hop into her car and drive off into the night. The last thing I see is James waving goodbye.
* * *
• • • • •
I’m ambushed the minute I step through the front door. Mom unloads a night’s worth of anxiety and stress by shouting at me for a solid half hour. If it wasn’t my fault for worrying her, I’d walk away and lock myself in my room. Instead, I bear it without so much as a single flinch.
“Go to your room,” she eventually demands with a choked voice. “Go!”
* * *
• • • • •
I startle awake with bleary eyes some six hours later and shuffle into the bathroom for a shower. As the water pours over me, I think back to the walk in the park. My hands still tingle from the memory of James’s fingers in mine. It’s so odd to think that just weeks ago, I would have slapped him for trying the same move.
Once I start to prune, I turn off the faucet and dry myself off. I wrap my hair in a towel and prop myself on my bed with my back against the wall. My phone, which has been on the charger, suddenly buzzes. It’s a message. Then another. Then two more back-to-back. I tap to open a group chat with Grace and two unknown numbers.
Is Liza up yet? the first number asks.
No, she’s not a morning person, Grace replies. Maybe give her another hour or so.
I hope we didn’t get her into too much trouble last night, the other number texts.
I’m not gonna lie . . . her mom is super strict. But this is the first time she’s broken curfew, so maybe it’ll be okay.
It doesn’t take much to infer Ben and James are the other two in the chat. There’s a lull in the conversation, so I decide to jump in.
Me: Hey, guys. It’s Liza.
Grace: Liza! You’re up early!
Me: Couldn’t sleep. Mom was super upset last night.
UN1: I’m sorry we kept you out so late.
UN1: This is Ben, BTW.
That makes the other number James. I quickly add them to my contacts.
Me: It’s okay. My mom’s stressed about the contest, so it didn’t help me any.
James: Are you okay?
Just seeing his words appear on my screen makes me smile.
Me: Yeah, I’ll be okay. Just waiting to see what kind of punishment I get.
Grace: I’m guessing you’re gonna get grounded.
Me: That’s a fact. LOL
Grace: Any idea for how long?
Me: Pretty sure she thinks the end of time is too short rn.
Grace replies with a groaning gif. James sends a sad face emoji, while Ben chooses three sobbing ones. I chuckle. That’s them to a T. My ears catch the sound of my parents stirring next door. It’s time to face my fate. I leave one last text in the chat.
Gotta go. Mom’s up. Will keep you updated.
I toss the phone onto the bed and head back into the bathroom. Once my hair is dry, I run a brush through it and tie it into a ponytail. I throw on my customary T-shirt, but pair it with some old jean shorts I only wear at home. Always an early riser, Jeannie is already at the table. She squeezes my hand as I sit down, and I smile gratefully. Mom’s at the stove, preparing breakfast, and doesn’t acknowledge either of us.
“Morning,” Dad says after sitting down. “You’re up early. Did you get enough sleep?”
I shrug. “I got enough.”
We jump when Mom plunks down a pot of soupy rice. She goes back to grab the pickled radishes, dried pork sung, and rice gluten. They plop onto the table with an equal amount of force, and I flinch. Instead of sitting down with us, she disappears into the bedroom.
Dad sighs. “Eat up. I’ll go check on Mom.”
He leaves the table. We hear the door open and close a minute later. I sag against the back of my chair.
“She’s really pissed this time, isn’t she?”
“You know it’s not just about you, Bunbun,” Jeannie assures me. “The contest went completely sideways yesterday, and you know how she gets when things don’t go . . .”
“Perfectly. Yeah, I know.”
I shouldn’t say anything more, but the words tumble out of my mouth.
“This only happened because she went trolling for guys to set me up with. She normally screens the contestants to make sure they have enough skill and experience to compete.”
“Even if that’s true . . .” Jeannie starts.
“You and I both know it is.”
“Even if that’s true,” she repeats, “she couldn’t have predicted Harold’s burn or Timothy’s tantrum, not to mention Michael’s disqualification. There’s also co-judging with Mrs. Lee, which can’t be easy.”
“Now, that’s something I don’t get either. Why did she ask Mrs. Lee to judge anyway?”
Jeannie’s fork freezes halfway to her mouth. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“She told me a lot of her sponsors weren’t planning on donating this year,” she informs me, food now forgotten. “They felt like the contest hadn’t gotten them enough publicity. Getting Mrs. Lee on board was the only way to convince them to remain sponsors.”
I frown. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Apparently, you two weren’t talking at the time.”
“It must have been right after I asked to enter the contest.” I groan and put my head in my hands. “I threw Mrs. Lee in her face too.”
Dad returns shortly after with Mom in tow. She sits stiffly in the chair he offers her. I keep my eyes on my bowl and spread the condiments evenly over the surface of my rice so each bite tastes the same.
“You’re grounded.”
I don’t look up but nod to show I heard her.
“Until the contest is over. You’ll only be allowed to go to the bakery and out with the family.”
“Can Grace or Sarah come over, at least?” I venture.
“No. I don’t think they’re good influences on you anymore. Especially Grace. Too Americanized.”
I clench my fists. Mom’s overreacting, as usual, but I know better than to argue with her. Jeannie does her best to talk Mom out of it, but as soon as she lets slip I was with two of the contestants, I’m done for.
“What were you thinking?! Do you not understand the importance of maintaining impartiality as a judge? If anyone had seen you with them, the contest would be over!”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t think—”
“You’re right! You didn’t think!” Mom scoots her chair back abruptly, the legs screeching against the floor. “I shouldn’t have made you a judge. It was my mistake trusting you.”
Her words sting more than expected. I lash out.
“What about you? Why did you turn this into some ridiculous dating service?” I shout, waving my hands in front of me. “I don’t need your help finding a boyfriend, and I definitely don’t want it!”
“Really? Then why were you with those two boys last night?”
I start to say it was for Grace, but dragging her into the argument won’t solve my problem. Jeannie interjects.
“Mom, I’m the one who told her to go have some fun. If you want to
blame anyone, then blame me.”
Mom points a finger at her. “I do blame you! You should have set a better example for your younger sister. Instead, this is what you teach her?!”
“Haˇo le, okay, no more,” Dad says, finally stepping in. “I know you’re angry, laˇo pó, but you’re being too harsh. They’re good girls, and they’ve never caused us any real trouble. Liza’s already apologized, and you’ve punished her. That’s enough.”
While his words are gentle, his tone is firm. Dad rarely puts his foot down like this, and we all stop arguing to listen.
“You’ve been working nonstop to get this contest off the ground,” he continues. “You need to take it easy and get some rest.”
“You’re right. I’ve been getting a lot of headaches,” Mom agrees, a hand on her forehead. “Maybe I’ll go lie down for a bit.”
Mom excuses herself and walks off without touching any of her food. My heart twists in my chest.
Dad looks at Jeannie. “Didn’t you mention you have plans with that boy Nathan today?”
“Oh . . . uh, yes.”
“Then go. Just be back for dinner.”
She peers at me before nodding. “Thanks, Dad.”
He waits until she leaves before leaning against the table on his forearms and pinning me with his stare.
“You know Mom only has your best interest at heart, Liza. When you didn’t come home on time, she thought something terrible had happened to you.”
“I know.” I bow my head. “I’m sorry.”
He sighs. “If you really want Mom to back off on setting you up, there are other ways.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve got to think more like her and less like you.”
I squint at him. “That’s an impossible task, Dad.”
“Hear me out. How does Mom pick the guys she tries to set you up with?”
“Well, she has a checklist. Tall, smart, Asian, traditional, will make a lot of money, etc.”
“Exactly. So use that to your advantage. Eliminate guys by finding their faults and exposing them.” Dad taps his fingers on the table. “For example, Timothy. He acted like a two-year-old, and she hasn’t stopped complaining about him since.”
“So he’s off the list.”
Dad grins. “You bet he is.”
“And Harold?”
“Maybe you didn’t notice, but he’s not exactly a clean boy.”
I make a face. “Oh, trust me, I noticed.”
“There you go, then. Two down, eight to go.”
A light bulb goes off, and the weight on my shoulders grows lighter.
“Technically, it’s four down. Michael’s mom is probably too pissed to want anything to do with us. And contestant nine, Ben? He’s dating Grace.”
Dad cocks his head to the side. “What about the one who’s always with him? The other boy you were out with last night.”
“Oh . . . that’s James, his cousin.”
The second I utter his name, my cheeks grow hot. Dad raises his eyebrows.
“I’m guessing you don’t have any objections to him?”
“Um . . . not yet,” I say, looking down at my lap.
“Well, he does fit some of Mom’s criteria,” he says, ticking them off. “He’s tall, handsome, and won the first brilliant baker of the contest. If you like him, you need to find out what else he’s got going on.”
I bite my tongue to keep from spilling the beans about our moonlit stroll.
“Okay, will do.”
“There is one more thing.” He glances at me and winks. “Contestant number three . . . Edward. I think he’s your mom’s favorite.”
“I knew it! Why does she like him so much?”
“You mean other than the fact he’s your age, going pre-med, and attending the same university as you in the fall?”
I snort. “Yes, besides that.”
“I think he might be related to that Reuben boy. I overheard Mom talking to Mrs. Lim the other night.” He leans forward. “Plus—and you didn’t hear this from me—I think she’s coaching him a bit.”
“Why does this not surprise me?”
“I think she’s definitely trying to help him win you over. Hence, the infamous cookie picture.”
Great. For some unknown reason, Mom is determined to merge our families. Okay, I lied. I know very well why she’s doing this. Mr. Lim is a US Representative for our state. I found out accidentally when I overheard Mom lamenting Reuben’s canceled dinner with us to her friend over the phone.
“Will you help me convince Mom he’s not a good match either?” I plead.
“All right, but this will be our little secret, okay? I’d like to live a few more decades.”
I come around the table and throw my arms around his neck. He laughs and pats me on the back.
“Just promise me you’ll try to be patient with Mom until everything is done, Liza.”
I cross my fingers behind my back. “I promise.”
“Okay. I need to head to the restaurant. Why don’t you come and help me out today? Danny’s on vacation with his family, so I’m shorthanded.”
It would be nice to get out of the house. I shudder to think what else Mom might say to me if I stay behind.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll go get changed.”
Chapter 19
After three days of Mom’s cold shoulder, I’m ready to warm up with some baking. In fact, I spend most of the night before bake day working out the pandan chiffon recipe. I’d forgotten how challenging it can be to achieve that perfect airy texture. Despite the tension between us, I earn a nod of approval from Mom as she heads to bed. I’m still hours away from doing the same, determined to ensure I can judge this technical recipe in my sleep.
I pass out well after two a.m. Nonetheless, when my alarm goes off less than five hours later, I jump out of bed. With no cameras following us around, I get to wear my own clothes again. As I prepare to get dressed, I find myself flipping through my hangers.
“Looking for something to catch a certain baker’s eye?”
I spin around to Jeannie’s amused grin. At this point, the high color on my cheeks has become the norm. I grab a light blue sweater and my favorite pair of black skinny jeans. Jeannie raises an eyebrow.
“Are you sure Mom will be okay with that?”
“It’s this or one of my geeky T-shirts from Tee Turtle,” I answer with a grin. “You know how much she loves those.”
“Point taken.”
Once I’m dressed, she helps apply my makeup. Since Mom and Dad left early to double-check everything at the school, I’m hitching a ride with Jeannie today. When we step out the front door, I’m surprised to find Nathan standing by the car. He lets out a low whistle.
“Look at you both!” He hooks an arm around Jeannie’s waist to pull her in for a kiss. “Especially you.”
“Stop it,” my sister protests. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”
Once we’re all inside, Nathan ramps onto the freeway and weaves through the hectic rush hour traffic. He glances back at me through his rearview mirror.
“So, Liza, I heard it was quite an interesting first day.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I answer with a chuckle. “I’m just glad no one set the bakeshop on fire.”
“Are you rooting for anyone so far?”
“Nope. That wouldn’t be very objective of me, as Mom would say.”
He meets my eye in the mirror and smirks. “I promise I won’t tell.”
“Honestly, I’d say three or four of the guys have a really good shot at winning,” I hedge.
“Maybe,” Jeannie interjects, “but you wouldn’t be upset if James won, would you?”
“I mean, he had a really strong bake, sure,” I stammer, “but so did Ben.”
“Is everyone all right?” he asks.
“Uh, yeah,” I manage. “What happened?”
“Someone cut me off. Sorry about that.” He meets my eye. “You were saying something about James and Ben?”
His words are stiff, and his eyes are pinned on the road in front of him. I don’t blame him for being so shaken. Houston traffic is some of the worst in the country.
“Oh, just that they both did well during the first bake,” I tell him.
“They’re from New York City, like you.” Jeannie grins and touches his arm. “In fact, we ran into James while Liza was visiting. That’s actually why she got into trouble the other night. She was out with the two of them.”
“Trouble that you encouraged,” I retort, though I duck my head.
“I suppose that’s true.”
We pull into the parking lot. Nathan offers to walk Jeannie into the bakeshop, since he has a few minutes before he has to head to class. After saying goodbye, I make my way to the prep room. Mom, Mrs. Lee, and Chef Anthony are gathered around the dining table and finalizing the schedule when I walk in.
Mom’s jaw drops open. “What are you wearing?”
I stare down at myself. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I told you to wear something nice!”
“I think it looks lovely,” Mrs. Lee says. “And very age appropriate.”
That only incenses Mom more. Her threat to remove me as judge flits through my mind. Thankfully, she’s too preoccupied with getting the day started to do more than send me a death glare. Gloria, the student we met on day one, bursts into the room.
“Chef Anthony! Something’s—”
She skids to a stop at the sight of us all gathered together, her expression strained.
“Um, could I speak with you, please?”