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was leaving, only camein one day in tears telling them that she was moving away. They had all assumed it had something to do with her controlling mother. There was a small help-wanted sign in the window, but no one had answered that sign or any of the ads they had placed in the Korean newspapers.
    Joyce stared into her bi-bim bop. “Can Gina come and keep me company this afternoon?”
    Apa nodded. “You have to promise to do all your work.”
    “I will,” Joyce said and picked up the phone by the register.
    “Hey, come over. Sorry. I know. I’ll tell you later.” Joyce glanced at her father. “Just come over. Okay. Bye.”
    Joyce went to one of the corner booths with her bowl of bi-bim bop and sat down. She stared out through the large panel of glass at the front of the restaurant. Joyce had been unable to face Gina after school. She had skipped sixth-period gym and gone to clean out her locker early. She left a note for Gina saying that she would call later. It would have been too painful to tell Gina that she had just wasted fifty dollars on a boy who couldn’t even get her name straight.
    When Joyce had first revealed her crush, there hadbeen a lot of ribbing from Gina. John was one of the few popular Asian Americans at Orangedale High amongst all the wealthy “new-un sahram” or snowmen, as so many of their Korean friends called them. Gina called John a banana, yellow on the outside, white on the inside, who would never get caught dead hanging out with some Asian chick. He seemed to be always dating a blonde. The lighter the hair, the better. Joyce took a bite of her rice, savoring the spicy chili paste that would make her breath foul in about two seconds. He might date blondes, but maybe, just maybe, someday, he could fall in love with another Korean. There had to be a part of him that felt comforted by being around Koreans.
    “We are his people,” Joyce had pointed out, and Gina burst into laughter.
    Joyce took another bite of her spicy chili paste rice and wondered if John had a favorite Korean dish.

    Joyce and Gina went from table to table setting out the refilled saltshakers and topping off the soy sauce containers.
    “He thought you were Lynn Song?” Gina saidincredulously. She leaned forward. “Did the jerk even look at your face?”
    “Yes,” Joyce said. “He was actually really nice.”
    Gina jutted out her chin and swiveled her head like a snake about to strike. “Nice is someone who knows your name. Nice is NOT someone who confuses you with the only other freakin’ Asian girl in your class. Don’t even get me started on this, Joyce.”
    “Shhh,” Joyce whispered, glancing over at the kitchen. Last thing she needed was for her parents to overhear.
    “So what did you do with the yearbook?” Gina whispered, her lips barely moving.
    Joyce pretended to concentrate on making sure the soy sauce didn’t drip. “I, uh, threw it away,” Joyce lied.
    “Threw it away!” Gina yelled. “You threw away fifty bucks!”
    Joyce put down the soy sauce. “Stop it, Gina. Just drop it, okay?”
    Gina bit down on the insides of her cheeks, her lips puckered in annoyance.
    Joyce moved to the next table with the tray of saltshakers. Gina stayed in her spot. Wasting money was always a sore subject for Gina. Ever since her fatherhad taken off five years ago, money was always on Gina’s mind. Gina only worked part-time on weekends because she wanted to focus on getting the grades to go to college. Like everything Gina tackled, she expected nothing but the best. Gina was not going to settle for any state school. She was aiming for a school on the East Coast, a private school with a huge endowment for financial aid.
    “I’ll pay you back,” Joyce said, unable to meet Gina’s eyes.
    Gina walked over to her. “It’s not about the money.”
    “Then why are you all bent out of shape? It’s my money. I can spend it the way that I want.”
    Gina leaned forward. “But you spent it on some idiot that