Monthly Archives: September 2013

p. 44   It was freezing during those days I played hooky in that apartment. After skipping school for almost a week, I saw my first snowfall. Flakes came slanting down from the sky and at first, the concrete sidewalk … Continue reading →

p. 58 …Ma also gave me $2.99 to buy a paperback Webster’s dictionary. This cost us almost two hundred finished skirts, since we were paid 1.5 cents per skirt. For years, I calculated whether or not something was expensive by … Continue reading →

Mr. Bogart didn’t mind the white kids as much, and I might have though he was simply a racist, had it not been for Tyrone Marshall, who was black. Tall and soft-spoken, Tyrone was incredibly smart. He had the highest … Continue reading →

p. 61 Mei Mei had been my friend in Hong Kong. She’d been both smart and very pretty, with black curly hair and pink cheeks. I was always ranked number one in all of our classes and she was number … Continue reading →

p. 67 I wished Ma had the luxury of worrying about my behavior; she could barely do more than keep the both of us alive. p. 72 [Annette] “This is for you.” When I opened it, I saw it was … Continue reading →

p. 84 “…And no matter how flawed someone else may be, that doesn’t give us the right to be less than we are, does it? We are decent people and we repay our debts.” Some of my anger ebbed away. … Continue reading →

p. 107 The end of the school year approached. A craze of autograph books swept through the sixth grade. A few kids had them and started asking their friends to sign and within a few weeks, many children were circulating … Continue reading →

p. 114 I finally spoke. “It’s not an application form It’s a letter of acceptance with a full scholarship. My principal told us today.” Aunt Paula stared. A flush crept up her neck and the dark mole on her lip … Continue reading →

p. 118 I said to her once, “Ma, you don’t have to play for me every week. You have so many other things to do.” “I play for myself too,” she’d answered. “Without my violin, I’d forget who I was.”

p. 178 What Annette didn’t understand was that silence could be a great protector. I couldn’t afford to cry when there was no escape. Talking about my problems would only illuminate the lines of my unhappiness in the cold light … Continue reading →