“Tell me about this Blake.” Farrah’s mom appraised her daughter with a hawk’s eye. “Who is he? Where is he from? What is he studying? How does he treat you?”
“Mom, stop.” Farrah crossed her legs and adjusted her laptop to minimize the screen glare. “We’re not playing Twenty Questions.”
“Those are valid questions. I’ve never heard you sound as giddy as when you’re talking about this boy,” Cheryl teased. “I’m your mother. You should tell me these things.”
“You’d like him.” Farrah grinned at the thought of Blake meeting her mother. He was tough, but Cheryl would destroy him in a second if he stepped over the line. “He’s from Austin. He’s a senior at Southeastern Texas. He used to be the quarterback of their football team.”
“Used to be?”
“He—” Farrah hesitated. “He decided he doesn’t want a career in football.”
“He’s right. Sports are dangerous. One wrong hit and you’re out. At least he has common sense.” Cheryl nodded in approval. “So what does he want to do?”
“He’s studying business.”
“What kind of business? Is he planning on getting an MBA? Did he get into any MBA programs? Is he going to Wharton?” Cheryl lit up. “That’s a great program. Graduate from there, and you’re set for life.”
Farrah was used to her mom’s endless questions about her love life, but they never made her nervous—until now. “He’s opening his own business.”
“What kind of business?”
“Er, a restaurant.” Her mom wouldn’t take kindly to “sports bar.” She considered them “low-class” establishments.
“What kind of restaurant?”
“Mom!”
“You can’t blame me for being curious. I want to know about the boy my daughter is so infatuated with. What’s his GPA?”
Farrah groaned. “How am I supposed to know his GPA?”
“You ask him.”
“I am not asking him.”
“Why not?”
“Because. It’s invasive.”
“You’re not giving him a colonoscopy. You’re asking what his grades are. A good GPA leads to a good job and a good life. Remember that.”
“That is so antiquated. There are plenty of successful people who didn’t graduate college. Look at Bill Gates and Steve Jobs.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Cheryl raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize he invented the next Microsoft and Apple. Send me a demo so I can show it off to my friends.”
“Har-har.” Farrah threw a popcorn kernel at the screen while her mom laughed. “I’m just saying, grades aren’t everything. Blake’s smart and works hard. And I really like him.”
Cheryl’s face softened. “I can tell. I’m glad you found someone you like so much. As long as he treats you well and isn’t a dum-dum.” She shuddered. “Don’t marry a stupid guy or spend the rest of your life taking care of him.”
“Mom, I’m wayyy too young to think about marriage.”
“I’m not saying get married now. You’re almost twenty. By the time you graduate, get a job, and date for a few years, it’ll be time. You don’t want to wait too long to have babies. You won’t have the energy to run after them. Take me, for example.”
“Hey! I was a good baby,” Farrah protested. “Besides, you had me when you were twenty-eight.”
“Yes, and it would’ve been easier if I had you when I was twenty-five.”
Over Farrah’s dead body. “I want to enjoy my twenties, thank you very much.”
Cheryl shook her head. “You’re young. You don’t listen to me now, but you’ll see.”
“How did we get on this subject?” Farrah uncrossed her legs and shook them out. Tingles shot up and down her thighs and shins. “It doesn’t matter. Tell me what’s going on with you.”
“Drama at the association, as usual.” Cheryl was a member of a local Chinese dance association that, technically, focused on ballroom dancing but was really an excuse for L.A.’s older Chinese community to gather weekly and gossip. “Elections for the presidency are coming up, and everyone’s fighting over it. So stupid.”
Cheryl always complained about the other members but refused to take Farrah’s advice and quit. Then again, between the dance outings, potlucks, holiday parties, and weekend trips to Canada, she had a better social life than Farrah.
“You should run for president.”
“Ha! I go to dance and eat free food. They can fight over the presidency all they want. I have enough to do at my real job.”
Valid.
“By the way…” Cheryl’s eyes sparkled. “Something came for you in the mail today.” She brandished an envelope with a distinctive gold and pale green logo in the upper left corner.
Farrah’s heart stuttered. The competition. Holy shit.
She’d submitted her application and portfolio in early January and hadn’t expected to receive finalist results until March. There was one more round after that, but still, this was a big freakin’ deal. She was either moving forward or dead in the water.
“I didn’t open it—”
“Open it!” Farrah raised her fist to her mouth. Her heart was this close to leaping out of her chest, reaching through the screen, and ripping that envelope open.
This was it.
Make it or break it time.
Oh god, what if she didn’t make it to the final round? What was she going to do? Farrah had applied to a few other internships just in case, but to be honest, she hadn’t tried her hardest on those and they—
“You’re a finalist.”
They probably saw right through her application. Some chic New York designer was probably poring over her application right now with a furrowed brow, wondering—hold up.
Farrah lowered her fist, unsure whether she heard right. “I’m a finalist?”
“You’re a finalist.”
Mother and daughter stared at each other before erupting into simultaneous squeals.
“I’m a finalist!” Farrah bounced up and down in excitement. Her MacBook slipped off her lap and would’ve crashed to the floor had she not grabbed it at the last minute. She held the screen close to her face, eyes wide. “I’m a finalist, I’m a finalist!”
Was this real life?
Maybe she was dreaming. God, that would suck.
Farrah pinched herself in the thigh.
Holy—ok. Not dreaming.
Of all the aspiring interior designers in the world (ok, in America), she, Farrah Lin, was a finalist for the most prestigious student competition in the industry. She could work for her idol, Kelly Burke. Hell, if things went well, she could have a job offer at the end of the summer.
This was unreal.
Wild, restless energy raced through her. She needed to do something. Tell someone the good news. Dance. Scream at the top of her lungs. Something!
“I’m proud of you.” Cheryl beamed. “Good thing I didn’t raise a stupid daughter. Although I can’t believe they didn’t email you. What is this, 1999? Are you sure you want to work for a company that doesn’t know how to use email?”
“Mom!” Farrah was in too good of a mood to take offense. “They’re traditional like that. It’s part of their appeal.”
“I guess you know better than me. Now, what are you still doing here?” Cheryl waved her daughter away. “Celebrate with your friends. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Ok! Talk to you later,” Farrah sang.
They didn’t say “I love you.” In fact, the thought of saying those words in Cantonese made Farrah cringe. So awkward. But some things didn’t need to be said.
Farrah waved goodbye, closed her laptop, and ran into the hall.
She hesitated, debating who to tell first. After a split second’s indecision, she ran to Olivia’s room and knocked on the door.
“Ladies, this is long overdue.” Courtney sighed in bliss as the pedicurist massaged her feet.
The spa smelled like lotion and lavender essential oil. Soothing music piped from hidden speakers. Half-empty glasses of bubbly sat next to each girl.
It was heaven.
“Mmm.” Farrah couldn’t muster enough energy for actual words. Massages always lulled her into a sleepy dream state.
“So overdue.” Olivia wiggled her toes. “I’ve been so stressed. Do you know how hard it is to find a good summer sublet in New York?”
“I told you, you can stay at my family’s place in the city. We never visit New York in the summer.” Kris shuddered. “Heat and tourist central.”
“Thanks, but I’m not sure the Upper East Side is my vibe. No offense.”
“I don’t care.” Kris sipped her champagne. “The offer’s open if you change your mind.”
“Thank you. Love you.” Olivia blew her a kiss.
“When do you get the final decision?” Courtney asked Farrah.
“April. Internships start in June.” NIDA covered the winner’s flights and housing, so the short timeline wasn’t a big deal. But now that the high of being a finalist wore off, Farrah went right back to worrying again. She was one step away from the internship of her dreams. If she came so close and didn’t get it…Farrah didn’t want to think about it.
“So you’ll be in New York?” Olivia was so excited she almost kicked her pedicurist in the face. “Oh my god, duibuqi!” Sorry!
The pedicurist waved it off. “Mei shir.” It’s ok/don’t worry.
“You, me, and Sammy in New York together.” Olivia sighed. “It’ll be the best summer ever.”
“I haven’t won yet.” Farrah vacillated between excitement and nerves. She didn’t want to jinx it, but she could picture it already: shopping in Soho, picnics in Central Park, cocktails in the Meatpacking District. Blake will visit and they’ll go on romantic double dates in the city and take fun hikes upstate on the weekend. “Even if I do, I’m not guaranteed my first-choice location.”
“Pssh.” Olivia waved off her concern. “Of course you’ll win.”
“We’ll see.” Anticipation bubbled in Farrah’s stomach. Olivia was right. If everything worked out, it’d be an amazing summer.
“Ugh, major FOMO.” Courtney pouted. “You guys will be living it up with your awesome internships, and I’ll be stuck babysitting middle schoolers at camp.”
“You love being a camp counselor,” Kris said. “You can do arts and crafts and boss people around all day.”
“Hmm. That is true.”
Everyone laughed.
Farrah sank deeper into her chair. Her chest glowed with warmth. It had been too long since the girls hung out, just the four of them. It reminded her of the early days of FEA.
“What are your summer plans?” she asked Kris.
“My father says I have to get a job.” Kris said “job” like it was a Prada bag from last season. “Which is totally unfair and my evil stepmonster’s doing. I’ve never had a job and I don’t intend to start now. Jobs are for plebeians. No offense.”
“Eh.”
“None taken.”
“Whatever.”
“Anyway, he’ll cave like he did with my credit card.” Kris brandished her Amex Platinum in the air. “I have a $2,000 monthly limit, but I just have to give him the cold shoulder for a while longer. I am his only daughter. I’m irreplaceable.”
Sometimes, Farrah marveled at the world Kris lived in. It must be nice.
“Never change.” Olivia patted Kris on the arm.
“I love you guys. I wish we could stay in Shanghai forever,” Courtney sighed.
If only. Farrah dreaded the day they had to leave. She’d have to say goodbye to Blake, her friends, her favorite cafe and jianbing spot and bubble tea place…
Don’t think about it. You have two months left. Enjoy it.
“Wait.” Courtney shot up in her chair, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Let’s make a pact.”
“I’m not making another blood pact. Don’t ask,” Kris said when Farrah’s and Olivia’s jaws dropped.
“I’m not.” Olivia grimaced. “Some things are better left unsaid.”
“It’s not a blood pact. It’s a wedding pact!”
Farrah wasn’t sure she heard right. “Excuse me?”
“We all have to invite each other to our weddings. Because that means we have to stay in touch. For years and years.”
“What if I don’t want a wedding? What if I elope?” Olivia asked.
The other three stared at her.
“Kidding! I would never elope. I already have my wedding Pinterest board.” Olivia laughed. “God, me eloping. Can you imagine?”
“No,” Kris said. “I can’t.”
Weddings were the Olympics of planning, organization, and seating charts. It was basically Olivia’s wet dream.
“So, ladies? Are we in?” Courtney held out her hand.
“Despite my foresight when it comes to Pinterest boards, I don’t plan on getting married until I’m in my thirties with a senior executive position on Wall Street and a weekend cottage in the Hamptons,” Olivia warned. “But I’m in.” She placed her hand atop Courtney’s.
Farrah followed suit. “Me too.” She was so not ready to think about marriage, although she and Blake would make the cutest babies. One day. She loved the idea of the pact, though. It’d keep their Shanghai legacy alive.
“Kris?” Courtney prompted.
The Filipina shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.” She put her hand on top of Farrah’s, completing the pact.
“Repeat after me: I swear I’ll invite you all to my wedding, no matter what.”
“Seriously?”
“Just do it, Kris.”
“I swear I’ll invite you all to my wedding, no matter what,” they recited dutifully.
“That’s it. The pact is unbreakable.” Courtney grinned. “You’re all stuck with me at your weddings, bitches.”
A wicked glint entered Kris’s eyes. “Anyone wanna bet on who gets married first and when?”
“Not against you,” Farrah laughed. “Too rich for my blood.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll reunite before the first wedding,” Olivia said. “Maybe even before we graduate!”
“Duh,” Courtney said with the confidence of someone who’s seen the future. “Of course we will.”
