Three Keys: Chapters 15–38

They went outward from the first ring, in the city center, where the emperor once lived, all the way out to the eighth, where folks who couldn’t afford the city center lived. Beijing inner-ringers were notoriously snobby toward those from the outer rings, which seemed suddenly absurd from halfway across the world.

My memory of Chinese rituals was fading, like the imprint of a customer’s hand on the bathroom mirror. Still, I distinctly remembered the smell of burnt paper.

That night, as my dad and the weeklies searched for the elusive 1943 copper alloy penny, I sat next to them drawing lots and lots of fake 1943 copper alloy pennies on pieces of paper.

That night, as my dad and the weeklies searched for the elusive 1943 copper alloy penny, I sat next to them drawing lots and lots of fake 1943 copper alloy pennies on pieces of paper.

“Let’s see!” my classmates shouted, clamoring to get a closer look.

She added with a sigh, “The administration’s not going to reimburse me for all that stuff. But I had to buy them for you guys.”

Just as I grabbed my dad’s leftover oil and was about to pour it down the drain, Jason gently pried the bowl from my hand.

“Actually, it probably tastes pretty good, you know, because it’s been infused with dinner and breakfast.”

“One of these days I’m going to rub my fingers raw,” she muttered under her breath as she frantically scrubbed.

A nostalgic look crossed his face.

Jason kept jumping, completely oblivious to the mess.

But my mom’s face flushed a deep red.

But she held on to all of her anger, the way Lupe held on to her secret at school. I could feel it fermenting and thickening inside her, like the stinky tofu sitting in our kitchen cabinet at home.

I let out a piercing scream and dropped all the test strips.

They started calling up at the beginning of October, asking about the lukewarm sales.

And I went to school armed with a new word—appeal. Mrs. T said an appeal was like a do-over. In America, we didn’t have to accept the first decision. We could ask a “higher body”—someone with more power—to reconsider.

“Ahhhhh!!! Get it off!!!” Bethany pointed to the big bug, flailing her arms.

Principal Evans explained that it was going to be potluck style, with every family bringing a dish. All around me, my classmates started shouting out what they were going to bring—paella, chicken parm, hummus, fajitas, curry!

We walked together to the big oak tree, Jason talking a mile a minute about all the things he wanted to make—braised pork belly with caramelized chili, shredded chicken salad with coconut, miso butterscotch ice cream for dessert.

He got on his knees in front of the oak and thanked the school gods for the opportunity to show off his culinary prowess in front of his classmates.

The very next morning I found a handwritten note tucked under the front office door. I braced myself for more venom.

“Girls just aren’t tough enough.”
I scoffed. “Not tough enough? Who’s the one who killed the roach?”

Bethany opened her mouth, but I shot her a look so intense, she promptly closed it.

He turned back to his rice with a melancholy sigh.

I couldn’t believe it myself—just a year ago, Jason had been my nemesis. And now I was saying that he had a gift (and not for stealing pencils).

Lupe was standing in the middle of the parking lot, her eyes red and swollen, her hair a disheveled mess.

“They’re trying to get him to waive his right to a hearing. Sign a voluntary departure form.”

She turned and told me how there was barbed wire everywhere, windowless cells, and tiny visiting rooms where people scratched words onto the walls.

Then she took a deep, pensive breath, like she was probably going to regret this next part, but said it anyway.

“What’s a retainer?” Lupe asked. She looked to Hank.
Mr. Delaney took a piece of paper out from his folder and slid it across the table. “A legal contract that allows me to represent you. Before I can give you any legal advice, you’ll need to pay for my services. You’ll see I charge by the hour and my fees are listed on the page.”

“Plus incidentals,” Mr. Delaney said.
Hank narrowed his eyes. “What incidentals?”
“Photocopying, phone calls, delivery fees, parking if I need to go to the jail or courthouse,” Mr. Delaney said.

“NO,” I told her emphatically.

Mrs. Welch jotted down the words noun, verb, pronoun, adjective, adverb, preposition, and conjunction on the board.

She put her hand on the partition, and José put his on the other side, so their two hands met on the glass in the middle.

He mustered a small smile, but I could tell his spirit was fading.