Chapter 31
Teddie and his team make some tweaks to the dress over the weekend, even though I thought it fit perfectly. They mention something about how my bust is bigger than they are used to seeing around here. The dress shows up at my apartment on Monday, along with matching shoes. I can hardly believe my eyes. They are Louboutin booties with gold foiled dragons on each side. All in all, this must cost a fortune.
There is also a note that a team will be coming over to do my hair and make-up before the party. They did ask if I could wash my hair the night before to save time because they would have to do everything in the narrow window between the time I got home from the acupuncture class and the party, which starts at seven.
Over the week, Fang texts me some notes about how he's on a new kale and ginger diet, which is supposed to be good for healing. I don't know much about nutrition and healing, but I don't think he's looking for a lecture. He's trying to make small talk. He's affectionate and compliments my choice of dresses, telling me he can't wait to see me in that striking color. I don't reply to that because it makes me nervous. In the face of a guy who is accustomed to dating 10/10 models who are practically Xi Shi, the goddess of beauty, made into flesh — how can I compare?
By Wednesday, I'm so jittery that I can't stomach anything, not even the Venti Latte Andrew brings me during our morning lecture. I want to send the dress back and forget about the entire affair. Then I remember the pill bottle in my locker. No, I have to tell Fang the truth, and this is a matter that I need to discuss with him in person. It's too dangerous to leave a text record of it behind. Also, I need to bring the physical evidence with me to show him. I need to go to this party even if I have no intention of enjoying it.
The internet thinks I'm having the time of my life being in the spotlight. Someone even snaps pictures of Lana and Zhang accompanying me to Teddie's showroom. Now, not only is my privacy compromised, so are the lives of my only two friends here in China.
XiaoLiLi sends out a message that she wants my friends investigated because she's certain I've hired actors to be my friends. From what she heard about me, I am too abhorrent a person to have organic relationships. I snicker at this because if she thinks I don't have any friends, it means she still hasn't cracked my Facebook network back home. At least once I go home to New York, I'll be safe from her meddling.
Wednesday night, I log into Instagram through a VPN to catch up on my friends at home. The gang went to Six Flags in New Jersey this past weekend, and I feel so homesick I could throw up the nonexistent contents of my stomach. Lauren happens to be online. She didn't go to her SAT class because she's home catching up on a new season of some show that sounds like a carbon copy of Gossip Girl.
"Hey, how are you doing?" She asks me through DM. "Coming back from your study abroad trip soon? I'm so jealous you got to travel before school starts."
"I'm not so sure about that," I reply and begin to let loose everything that's been bugging me. Everything except Fang because I'm too paranoid about a record of me venting about Fang showing up on a message board somewhere. "Calvin is an asshole, and I wish I never had a crush on him. To make things worse, my supposed best friend just called me fat this weekend when we went shopping."
"Maybe she's saying that because she's comfortable telling you the truth," Lauren replies. "Sometimes, my aunt says stuff like that too. They don't mean anything rude. It's just what people tell each other over there."
"Oh no, you too," I respond with a frown face.
"Be more open-minded. Isn't that why you wanted to travel? So that you can try to see the world differently?"
"Yeah, you have a point," I reply. Oh no, it's just like Lauren to remind me how fortunate I am to see another culture upfront and personal. She isn't the one who is running from a crazy internet super fan.
"I would rather be called fat by my best friend than deal with all the microaggressions and systemic racism around here. On top of that, my parents say they'll disown me if I don't get a perfect 1600 on my SATs. This is all because everyone knows they subtract a couple of hundred points off your score for showing up to the test while Asian."
"You're making me nervous that I'm not in Kaplan this summer."
"Oh, don't worry, you'll do fine. Did I tell you that Starbucks removed their White Tea from their menu this summer? I have to drink Passion Tea now! It's bright red like Kool-Aid. This is the worst summer ever."
"Okay, okay," I reply and roll my eyes. "It's eleven o'clock here, and I have a busy day tomorrow. Good night."
As I sign off, I wryly wonder to myself if being called fat is — in fact — better than having to listen to your best friend moan about getting 1590 instead of 1600 on her SAT.
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