“Madam Chan likes it,” I replied curtly.
“No surprise she does. It’s pickled in wine and it’s got jowls—just like her.”
A laugh bubbled in my throat. I couldn’t believe this boy’s audacity! I turned back to my oranges. “I’m working.”
“I wasn’t looking for soymilk,” he admitted finally, “I was looking—foryou.”
That caught me off guard. “Me?”
“Yes—” He dipped his fingers into his pocket and fished out the missing charm from my bracelet.
I gasped.
“I went back to look,” he said. “It was caught on a bush, a gnarly bristly one.” He rubbed his shoulder so I’d register how much effort he’d undertaken on my behalf. “I hope it didn’t get crushed under my wheel—looks too flat to be a peanut if you ask me.”
It looked the same to me. Mama had never told me the charm was a peanut; I’d simply assumed. A dart of pain rose to my chest. Here was another thing I might never get to ask her.
“I’m not going to thank you,” I said, snapping the charm onto my bracelet. “You’re the one who made me lose it in the first place.”
Amusement showed on his face. “Do you not like me because I almost got you killed? I got the elephant genes from my da, but I promise I’m not so bad.”
“What do you care if I like you or not?”
“Everyone likes me,” he replied. “I’m Tommy. Tommy Yeung. You are...?”
I held up my cleaver. “I’m good with a knife.”
“Funnyandmysterious, my favorite combination. How about I tell you a secret, will that make you like me?”
I sliced my oranges into eighths. “What secret?”
“Mum pretended that she was sick so she wouldn’t have to come tonight. She’s vexed with Madam Chan.”
“That’s not a secret, that’s gossip. Which everyone already knows.”
“Itistoo a secret! Mum would skin me alive if she knew I told you that.”
“Why is she vexed with Madam Chan?”
“Madam Chan doesn’t think we’re rich enough to be her friends, so she only asks my mum to things when someone more important can’t make it. My guess is that we’re last-minute invites.”
“You guess?” I repeated. “If you’re going to spread a rumor, at least have some conviction.”
“I’m certain it’s true.” He tilted his head. “I could ask my mum and find out for sure... if you want.”
“Why would I? This has nothing to do with me. We’re not even friends.”
“We might be at the end of this party. All that depends on you.”
His congeniality was infectious, and I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. “You want to be friends with a kitchen maid?”
“Why not? My grandmother worked as a kitchen maid when she moved to Hong Kong, and she was the smartest, funniest person I ever knew.”
“Is she here tonight?”
“She’s dead.”
“Oh.”
