A few years earlier, in seventh grade, I tested just well enough to skip two years of math, and I was now paying for it. I had peaked too early. In fact, I was very bad at math. Like many immigrants who prized education, my parents retained faith in the mastery of technical fields, like the sciences, where answers weren’t left to interpretation. You couldn’t discriminate against the right answer
They played Thriller so much that I assumed Michael Jackson was a family friend
Californians often grow up with a sense of entitlement simply because they get to live in California
There comes a moment for the immigrant’s child when you realize that you and your parents are assimilating at the same time
I began sorting my classmates according to their musical sensibilities. Of secondary concern was someone’s taste in film and books, what posters were on their walls, whether they knew about zines or thrifted their clothes. According to my blunt typology of the world, there were people who were cool and then people who weren’t. This latter category was multitudinous. I was into being into things, and I sought this quality in others. It could have been anybody, anything.
Passengers had different personalities. Some called shotgun with a neurotic intensity, as though their entire sense of self relied on sitting up front. Sammi flicked her lighter all the time, until one afternoon when the glove compartment caught on fire. Paraag always ejected my tapes and insisted on listening to the radio. Anthony, forever staring out the window
I dressed like a grandfather—scratchy cardigans, floral button-downs, an audible amount of corduroy, Dr. Martens five-eye wingtips
I began sorting my classmates according to their musical sensibilities. Of secondary concern was someone’s taste in film and books, what posters were on their walls, whether they knew about zines or thrifted their clothes. According to my blunt typology of the world, there were people who were cool and then people who weren’t. This latter category was multitudinous
