“Fine,” Ruby hisses. “You can come with me.”
She beckons at me and says that she isn’t planning to attend private summer school. The teachers don’t care, she says. Apparently, they don’t get paid enough to take attendance or teach students.
Eagerly, I nod.
Anything sounds better than being stuck in a scary classroom that looks like a spaceship.
This time, we get into another car, a DidiChuxing (Uber) hired privately by Ruby, then another Didi, and this one drives us in the opposite direction. It’s all very mysterious and a bit alarming when we transfer cars and seem to be driving in circles. What sort of illegal business is my cousin into? Finally, we go under a concrete bridge, passing more ugly smog-colored skyscrapers and hordes of busy-running people in fashionable business suits who seem to be going to the office. Street vendors selling fresh durian juice, brown curry fish balls, and sautéed chicken skewers fill the chaotic streets.
I’m relieved that this time we seem to be heading to a heavily populated area. After what feels like eternity, we’re in the bustling heart of Beijing, and there’s another warehouselike prison building and a sign that says SOHO XU-RHEN DOGGY SPA AND HOTEL PAMPER. Suddenly, I’m incredibly relieved. Are we just having a nice visit with some pampered pooches?
“You can’t say anything to my dad,” Ruby insists, frowning. “He doesn’t know how much I practice.”
Grateful not to be in school, I nod, as if Ruby’s paranoia makes total sense.
I’m excellent at keeping secrets, except when they’re too juicy for just one person. Secrets lead to gossip, and in order for human evolution and biology and future societies to continue, someone needs to be willing to share newly acquired knowledge.
For instance, if my dad had simply told us that he had family in China and would send me away if I misbehaved, I would have known never to piss him off. As a result, he would probably have had better parenting results if he had told me that exile would happen if I did poorly at school.
Knowing your extended family should be search-engine knowledge. You just need to know that you were born with a half uncle. There are consequences for not sharing information. I swear, that’s how Atlantis was lost. It’s the only real explanation for how we could lose an entire city in the whole ten-thousand-year history of our solar system. And since I don’t seem to know anything about my world, am I more at risk of vanishing?
How many more days on Earth do I have left?
Confused, I reluctantly follow Ruby to the top floor of the building and into a fancy pink-and-white-curtained room. I pass sour-looking pugs receiving nail clippings and snooty poodles getting complicated French braids. There are even a few yapping Pomeranians getting acupuncture and massages by professional staff in hospital-looking uniforms. It all looks amazing and wonderful. Just seeing the soft doggy beds makes me want to be an exotic canine breed owned by very wealthy people. I want to be anyone or anything but impulsive, out-of-control Iris Wang.
I want to lie down and take a long, peaceful nap.
In a private spa room, there are seven sheep-size stuffed animal mannequins with spiky yarnlike hair spread over different workstations. Ruby’s coach, the mustached owner of the fancy salon, Master Hui, has set up cutting stations around the room. Ruby needs to be able to groom and train a Tibetan mastiff into the perfect Miss Piggy within a six-month time frame in order to become a finalist in the international competition.
“You mean …” I trail off.
“These are my practice until my real practice dogs arrive at the airport,” she says enthusiastically.
I gawk.
Ruby is skipping summer school to cut hair on fake dogs. No wonder Uncle Dai is always upset with her. It’s like me never showing up for AP Economics whenever there’s a sale at Saks.
“While I practice grooming, why don’t you try making one of these mannequins into Winnie the Pooh or something?” she says, handing me a large pair of shearing scissors and a thick booklet of instructions. “Eeyore is very easy too.”
After fifteen minutes, it’s clear that I have no talent for dog grooming. My stuffed animal is patchy and looks nothing like a cartoon bear. In many places, it even looks bald. From a distance, my mannequin could best be described as a plucked turkey.
Ruby has already finished two of these practice models. All of them look stunning and distinct, each Miss Piggy better and more thought-provoking than the last. Ruby’s even working on color theory; her creation will be dyed thirteen different shades of ombre pink using all-natural organic beet juice imported from the UK. She’s already ordered her dog’s wardrobe from Japan.
I tell her that I need a break.
“Keep an eye on the time,” she warns me as she shaves off the right side of her doggy mannequin. “We need to leave at fourteen hundred hours, before Mr. Chen gets to the school.”
“Sure,” I say, but I’m barely listening. Fourteen hundred hours? What is Ruby going on about?
Stomach rumbling, I still feel nauseous. I tell myself that I’m just having a normal reaction from having been inside a school. In the privacy of the bathroom, I finally check my Instagram feed. It seems like a waste of time not to do so. For some reason, I see Samira’s post pop up first. She and Peter. Someone’s throwing a really fun party with keggers. First date at the Cheesecake Factory. Little hearts. Kissing pics?!!!! Samira’s Facebook status says In a relationship with Peter Hayes. <3
My heart and stomach cramp simultaneously. Both from displacement, betrayal, and slow, internal poisoning.
Instagram is making my condition worse.
Samira and Peter are officially a social media couple? It hasn’t even been a full two weeks.
I check my DMs. Twelve messages from Samira. As I read through them, I start to feel giddy and light-headed. Am I going to pass out?
Samira Chadha-Fu: Iris my darling, are you around for a shopping day? Stop avoiding me. I know you’re dying to visit Nordstrom.
Samira Chadha-Fu: Okay, how about a quick toke, girl? Coffee? Drink?
Samira Chadha-Fu: Listen, you can’t stay away from me forever. What will you do if you don’t have your BFF around? You need me. We’re a dream team.
Samira Chadha-Fu: What are we going to do about prom? I hired a limousine. Parents are throwing me a big party for getting into Princeton. Where are you going to be at next year?
Samira Chadha-Fu: Iris, come on. Msg me. I miss you. <3 <3 <3
Samira Chadha-Fu: Okay, Iris … everyone is talking about why you’re not in school. There are rumors that you are getting plastic surgery in Korea or you’re doing rehab in a spa in Switzerland or that your parents exiled you to Canada. Tell me it’s not true!!!! If you’re at a spa, can I come visit?
Samira Chadha-Fu: Giving me the cold shoulder isn’t your style, babe.
Lavalike anger rises in me and I stop reading her messages. How can she still not be apologizing for stealing my boyfriend and then shit-talking me in my own home? How can she expect me to respond to her casual indifference? Since she came over with her parents, she has never bothered to beg to meet me face-to-face for an apology and a chance to explain. She could have had the decency to at least FaceTime me if she was busy.
But Samira is half-right.
I’m so lonely in Beijing that I am tempted to send her a text. Just to say a quick hello. Despite being badly hurt, hating her, and missing her, I just want to feel accepted again. Honestly, if Peter texted me and wanted me back ASAP, I might even be tempted to make up with him, too.