way.”
“I just hope Coach is cool with it. I didn’t see anything in the team binder about hair color, so I think I’m technically in the clear.”
Of course Coach wouldn’t have it in the rule book. Up until now, all the Wildcats have had a similar look. Fresh faced, girl next door, collegiate. But Ali hopes he’ll see the spirit of Grace’s gesture. Grace is clearly all in.
And just as Ali expected, Grace steps into the living room and is immediately swarmed by girls, touching her hair, pulling her in for pictures, hugging her. The attention makes Grace bashful. Innocent. Young. In fact, it seems crazy to Ali that she and Grace are only a year apart at West Essex. She guesses Grace probably turned fifteen this summer, just made the birthday cutoff.
There were a handful of JV players who sometimes showed up at upperclassmen parties last year. Like that Marissa girl. Ali sensed how cliquey that team was. It’s no stretch to think that Grace didn’t fit in there. Or that they might not have even given Grace a chance to fit in.
They really blew it.
Ali’s phone buzzes with a text. Her brother James.
JAMES: BIG NEWS.
JAMES: I just took the cutest picture since photography was invented.
ALI: It better be of John-John.
ALI: And not, like, a tiny pot leaf.
Her mother tells people that James works in agriculture. Really, he went into business with some college buddies and now runs a marijuana farm in the rural Pacific Northwest. James definitely gets high and sends Ali pictures of his work, marveling at the beauty of nature.
JAMES: Hey that tiny pot leaf was adorable!
ALI:
JAMES: But this is next level.
JAMES: Brace yourself.
The kitchen is empty. Ali finds a little corner to tuck herself into and presses her back against the door leading out to the garage. Her phone buzzes.
It is a picture of John-John in his hanbok.
JAMES: Dress rehearsal.
ALI:
Ali’s mother had looked in the attic but couldn’t find either James’s or John’s hanbok. There’d been a roof leak a few years ago, and they maybe got thrown out. So Susan had her aunt bring a new one over from Seoul. It’s beautiful.
ALI: moremoremoremoremoremore
James indulges her with a picture of John-John asleep and enormous in their mother’s petite arms, pleased smiles across both their faces.
ALI: Halmoni!
ALI:
JAMES: I know. It makes me want to get married and have kids.
ALI: Ummmmmmmm
JAMES: Okay, not really. But Mom’s so cute with him. She fed John-John duk for the first time and little dude couldn’t get enough. Now he’s in a food coma.
ALI: So she and Dad made it there safely? They were supposed to text me!
JAMES: Don’t blame them for forgetting. This is what they saw when they walked through the door.
James follows up with a picture of a dinner table crowded with dishes of food.
ALI: Whoa! That looks like a damn restaurant!
JAMES: Yeah. Susan’s mom has been cooking all day.
Ali’s mother and father will make Korean food every once in a while but never a spread like that, with all the side dishes. Granted, the food at tonight’s Psych-Up will be amazing. Mel’s parents got Park & Orchard to cater it. But Ali’s mouth still waters seeing so many of her favorites on the table. Candied sweet potatoes. Four different kinds of kimchi.
Another text arrives, as if James can see her salivating.
JAMES: Sorry. I don’t mean to rub it in. Maybe we can send some food back for you with Mom and Dad.
Ali steps out of the corner and over to the kitchen island. She sends him a quick selfie of herself holding up one of the pretty cupcakes.
ALI: Don’t worry about me.
JAMES:
ALI: What?
JAMES: John-John’s birthday cake is a three-tiered matcha.
ALI: SHUT UP.
ALI:
There are no Asian markets in West Essex. Definitely no Asian bakeries. You can order some things online—favorite candies, instant noodle soups—but pantry-type stuff. Whenever Ali goes to visit either of her brothers, she gorges herself on things she can get only there, like shaved ice with red bean.
Ali sets the cupcake back down just as Mrs. Gingrich passes by. “Aren’t these the best cupcakes, Ali? I mean, who knew vanilla could be so special!”
Ali presses her lips together in a smile and nods.
As long as she’s been playing, Ali’s been the only Asian girl on the Wildcats. It’s not something she’s thought much about before, beyond simply acknowledging it as a fact of life. West Essex itself isn’t super white. Just, like, mostly white. Which is how Ali would describe the Wildcats themselves. Thinking back