as Asian. They see me as exotic—someone too different to be their version of ‘all-American.’ Not to mention how broad the whole Asian category is. Do you know how many countries that covers? How many cultures? But ‘Asian’ is just lumped together, like people can’t be bothered to learn the differences. Which is also frustrating because, like, people who identify as East Asian or Southeast Asian or South Asian want to be understood for their differences, but then when someone is biracial, it’s suddenly like, ‘No, you don’t get to claim all the things that you are because you’re not Asian enough.’
“Both my parents are biracial. I’m a product of two people who probably felt split between cultures themselves. But I feel like my heritage is even less mine because I’m only a quarter of everything. A quarter doesn’t feel like enough to belong to something. But then that just means I don’t belong to anything. Does that make sense?” I shake my head like my thoughts are too heavy.
Vas sets his pen down. “I’m sorry you feel like that. It must be difficult to feel like so many pieces that don’t fit together.”
“Yes!” I explode. “I just want to feel like a whole person, and not someone who is broken into fragments. And maybe that’s why I love the idea of the circus. Because I could see that—all these different people from different cultures with different skills coming together to be a family and perform. I know it isn’t real life, but it’s still a family. A family I’ve always wanted to be a part of.”
Vas lifts his shoulders. “Longing. Separation. Family. I think we could find something there to work with.”
I raise my eyebrows, worried I’m being too intense or honest or me. “It isn’t too much? I’m not too much?”
Vas looks at me like the thought had never even occurred to him. “I think it’s perfect.”
I bite the smile forming in the corner of my mouth.
We pass ideas back and forth like we’re on a tennis court, but nothing sticks. Eventually my eyelids get heavy, and I’m struggling to concentrate on what we’ve said and haven’t said, and I must be tired because I’m sure Vas has smiled at least five times in the past thirty minutes.
I ask him if we can talk more about it tomorrow, and when he says yes, it takes us both a long time to actually stand up.
Maybe I’m dreaming, but I feel like Vas doesn’t want me to leave.
Maybe I don’t want to leave either.
I float all the way to my trailer, and when my head hits the pillow, I let the dream consume me.
CHAPTER FORTY
In my sleep, I am surrounded by smoke and mirrors.
I look from side to side, seeing my face over and over again, stretching into infinity. The clouds beneath my feet expand across the floor, consuming it. The smoke licks at the air like a flame, and I hear Popo’s voice telling me a story from my childhood. A story about two stars who couldn’t bear the sight of each other.
The same, but different.
A conflict between family.
Two parts existing at once, but never together.
Smoke fills the room, and the mirrors shatter.
And then I am floating through the sky, reaching for Mom, Dad, Popo, Grandpa Cillian, even the ghost of the grandmother I never met—each family member appearing one after another. But my fingers slip through them, like they are no more physical than a reflection. I can’t hold on to them. I can’t feel them.
I am not a part of them.
And then I see a version of myself, sleeping in the starlight, holding firmly to the ropes on a static trapeze.
A girl living among the planets.
I try to pull my reflection toward me, to make us the same, to make her dreams mine. But every time I move, she moves too. We are trapped in a dance, like magnets forcing each other away.
Because we exist in two different worlds.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Vas is in the Lunch Box eating breakfast when I collapse into the seat across from him, my breath ragged because I’ve been in a hurry to find him since the minute I woke up.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice layered with concern.
“I have an idea for our act,” I say impatiently. He sets his fork down to signal that I have his full attention. “Have you ever heard of the Chinese folktale about the morning star and the evening star?”