This Is My Brain in Love - I. W. Gregorio Page 0,56

really push our study group special.” I tell him about how Will’s contact at University of Utica said we could pass out flyers at their activities fair, and how we would make a push to try to have a food booth there.

“An even bigger untapped revenue source, though, is the catering aspect. One catering job a day would be the equivalent of five to ten walk-ins. I’ve reached out to someone in the medical field who gave me contacts for the pharmaceutical people who bring lunches to doctors’ offices almost every day.” In what seemed like karmic retribution for six years of putting up with her Little Miss Perfect routine, Peggy Cheng came through for me in a big way with a copy of her mom’s office manager’s drug rep list.

WILL

Jocelyn is on fire. She’s blazing with ideas and so passionately ambitious I can actually see her father’s skepticism thaw, despite his best efforts.

As she lays out her ideas, her energy fills the entire room. After working at the restaurant for several weeks, I’d gotten used to the vibe of the place being—well, “homey” is the nicest way to put it. There always seemed to be a frenetic kind of desperation in the air: Were they going to hit budget? Did they have enough broccoli/green beans/carrots? Every day seemed to hum with a baseline level of anxiety.

With Jocelyn on stage, though, I’ve never felt more hope in the room. Her mother’s looking at her with a quiet pride, and her dad’s moved on to nonverbal communication that almost sounds approving.

I feel like I’m in the middle of a hurricane of hope and desperation, of ambitious calculation and passion, all of it with Jocelyn at the center. I feel unhinged. I feel alive. I am absolutely, terrifyingly in love.

JOCELYN

When I finish my presentation, my fingers clutch at the edges of my report like it’s a lifeline. I’m afraid to look up at my parents. My mom, always so stoic, didn’t make any noise at all while I was laying out my plan, just listened and waited with that half smile that she plasters on whenever she is at the restaurant, no matter how harried or tired she is. I don’t know if it is something she learned from TV or that was drilled into her in her first job, that Americans don’t like to buy things from people who look unhappy, as if dissatisfaction can taint a product.

I can’t read my dad’s expression, though there was a moment or two during my presentation that his frown could’ve been read as grudging approval. He makes a show of flipping through my report before running his hand through his thinning hair and sighing. Finally, he swivels his head toward me and waves his hand at Will.

“So what, all that is so you can see this boy?”

I stiffen, indignant on Will’s behalf; I’m ready to snap at my dad that Will’s not just some boy, but something stops me when I see the expression on my dad’s face. It’s not the thinly veiled contempt that I’m used to seeing there. It’s a mix of curiosity and maybe even something bordering on respect.

“No,” I reply, lying only a little. “I still believe in this restaurant, and that we can do better.”

My dad’s shaking his head already.

“Dad, just listen. My plan…”

For the first time all afternoon, my dad raises his voice. “Your plan?” he says, scowling. “Your plan. You keep talking about your plan. Remember, it still my restaurant. Still my family.”

I feel like I’ve been slapped. Of course his stupid pride is in the way. But then my dad sighs and brushes his hair back one more time.

“Xiao Jia, your plan, it not bad plan, but risky. Risky because you be distract. Big men in Chinatown say, business takes much dan.” It takes me a second to place the word, pin it down as the Mandarin word for guts.

“So. I will let you do this plan, but you must stay focus. It too much risk if you get distract. You and Will, you cannot do hanky-panky. No kiss. No hug. No nothing. All business, you understand?”

Wordlessly, I look over at Will, who gives me the slightest shrug, the barest smile. It galls me to have my dad telling me what I can and cannot do, but it’s honestly better than I expected. So yeah, I’m okay with no PDA at A-Plus. But my dad’s got something coming to him if he thinks he can stop