falling in love was not the plan michelle quach

So, shouldn’t you try to look better? Kim has switched over to pencilling her eyebrows into the thick, horizontal style of K-drama heroines. It’s a hallowed ritual, occurring around the same time every spring – and this year, being a junior, I finally get to be in the running. Today is the day that the staff of the Willoughby Bugle, my high school paper, will select its new editor in chief for next year. Then, because I can sense Kim’s impatience practically forming condensation on my silence, I take a long sip of tea and turn another page. I bite into the chewy flour of my Cantonese-style sachima, which is sweet and sticky, like a Rice Krispies treat without the marshmallows. Well? Kim asks, after I’ve turned a page.

I like it because the main character is a Chinese girl who’s smart but a bit prickly, which is a combination the world could really use more of. I flop onto my bed with a book, an Eileen Chang novel I found by chance at the library. Isn’t today supposed to be a big deal for you? Kim thinks this is a horrible way to live. I read once that a lot of important people have a uniform to save their mental energy for things that actually matter, so I’ve started doing it, too.

In fact, this is basically how I dress every day. To be fair, what I’m wearing is a big polyester sweater the exact grey of parking-lot asphalt, and it isn’t anybody’s idea of a good look. I push up my sleeves and they fall right back down again.

That’s what you’re wearing? She points her mascara wand at me, the disbelief thick enough to flake off. I share a bedroom with my older sister, Kim, which wouldn’t be a problem except she has this habit of making a face whenever I walk in.

Falling in love was not the plan michelle quach