She didn’t know how long she examined the chemistry set, but suddenly her mother appeared with Eddie and Frankie in tow, exclaiming that she had lost her, and what had she been doing? Lily had pointed to the chemistry set and asked, “Can I have this for Christmas?”
Her mother gazed at her for a moment, and then said, “Don’t you want a doll instead?”
Lily had been too old for tantrums, but something about her mother’s response made her angry, and she fisted her hands by her sides and announced, “I don’t want a doll!”
Her mother’s face had hardened instantly, and Lily saw her hand jerk as if she were about to strike her, but she couldn’t let go of either Eddie or Frankie. Instead, she snapped, “You’re in Macy’s, for goodness’ sake. Be quiet.”
Her mother’s cutting tone had stunned her, and Lily had burst into tears.
Now, the dressing room door opened and her mother returned, Miss Marshall in tow, with another two suit jackets. “Try this one on,” her mother said, handing over a smaller size.
Lily complied. The smaller jacket fit much better. When she buttoned it, the waist nipped in as it was supposed to, rather than ballooning out around her hips. Her mother adjusted the jacket’s drape. Over her mother’s shoulder, Lily saw Miss Marshall carefully plucking a stray black hair from the lapel of the larger jacket and surreptitiously dropping it on the floor.
“Better,” Lily’s mother said, stepping back and blocking Lily’s view of the salesgirl. There was an unusual expression on her face, and it took a moment for Lily to realize that her mother was satisfied.
“唔錯，”* her mother said in Cantonese. “幾好。”*
Lily turned to the mirror. She saw a Chinese girl in a characterless gray suit—blank faced, nothing special, even a little boring. Respectable. The word felt square, immovable, like a sturdy box with all four corners equally weighted. A respectable girl was easily categorized, her motivations clear. She wanted a college degree, and then a husband, and then a nice home and adorable children, in that order. She saw her mother smile tightly, as if conscious of the salesgirl hovering behind them, and then Lily understood why her mother had worn the church suit to Macy’s. Even if it was ugly, it declared her investment in respectability. Her mother was a real American wife and mother, not a China doll in a cheongsam, relegated to operating the elevator.
“It’s so professional, but also very ladylike,” said Miss Marshall. “Would you like me to ring it up for you?”
4
This year we’re going on a journey to better understand ourselves and our goals for life after high school,” Miss Weiland announced, standing at the blackboard at the front of the classroom. She was petite, with a heart-shaped face framed by a halo of light brown curls. She was also one of the youngest teachers at Galileo High School, and half the boys in Lily’s class had a crush on her. Today she was wearing a checked gray pencil skirt and a form-fitting pink blouse that accentuated her curves in a way that Lily had heard the boys murmuring about as soon as they got to class.
Every senior had to take Senior Goals, taught by either Mr. Stevenson （he had a reputation for being a bit lecherous with the girls） or Miss Weiland （Lily was glad she’d gotten her）。 The class was officially about preparing for life after high school, but it was widely known to be an easy A that involved watching a lot of filmstrips about etiquette and dating.
“We’ll be covering three major units,” Miss Weiland said. “Personal Growth and Family Living, Vocational Adjustment, and Consumer Education. Today we’ll begin with a personal assessment of where you are right now. I’d like you to divide up into groups of four and discuss a few questions with one another that I’m going to write on the board. You will work with the people in your row—the four toward the front and the four in the back. Go ahead and move your chairs together.”
Chair legs scraped across the floor as everyone formed their groups. Lily’s group included Will Chan, who was in front of her; Shirley, who was behind her; and Kathleen Miller, who was behind Shirley. Lily, Shirley, and Will had known each other since they were children, having gone to Commodore Stockton Elementary together. They had known Kathleen since junior high, though they had never been real friends. Kathleen wasn’t the kind of girl who would be part of their group. She was Caucasian, for one thing, and Lily’s close friends were all Chinatown kids. But Kathleen and Lily had been in the same math classes together since eighth grade, and Lily had always thought Kathleen was perfectly nice—quiet, but smart.