“Fine. We’ll play along. You’ll see, my kids will win again.”

  Mom ignored him.

  “My kids are already graphing two-variable linear inequality,” he continued. “Your kids know how to do that?”

  Mom’s nostrils flared as she shot back, “Of course they do. They can convert between exponential and logarithmic form, find the inverse of a matrix, the vertex of a parabola, and calculate the inverse of a cosin.”

  Oh, no. Mom was so fired up, she’d accidentally mispronounced cosin as “cousin.”

  The Sentilla Beach coach roared with laughter. “Cousin??” he asked. “I hope they can find their cousin!”

  Mom turned beet red.

  “And you call yourself a math coach!”

  The judges cleared their throats, prompting us to quiet down and look over—to see Lupe with her hand raised. The air stilled. I felt my heart leap practically out of my body as I jumped up in the air—they were done! YES!!!!

  The Sentilla Beach coach went pale. We all held our breaths as the judges checked our team’s work. Finally, the senior judge tapped on the mic.

  “Looks like we have a winner!” he declared.

  Mom and I ran over to the team, and I hugged my best friend. We squished the Polaroid camera hanging from my neck, but I didn’t care.

  “Congratulations, Team Anaheim! You’re the new champions of the Math Cup, Orange County!” he declared.

  Team Sentilla threw all their pencils on the floor, they were so mad. But it didn’t matter. We won!

  Lupe turned to her team as I snapped pictures. “We did it!!!” she yelled.

  “You were an incredible team captain,” Allie said. Ethan, Noah, and Ben all took turns high-fiving Lupe.

  “It was all of us,” Lupe corrected. “Teamwork makes the dream work!”

  Mom gave each of them a big hug. “I’m so, so proud of you!” she said. Then she pulled six World Cup tickets from her purse and handed them out.

  I took a picture of Team Sentilla’s faces. Their mouths hung open like one long parenthesis.

  “Is that … ?” they asked.

  “A World Cup ticket!” Lupe beamed. “How’s that for a trophy?”

  Ethan, Ben, and the rest of the team laughed as they walked over to pick up their actual Cup trophy. I held my camera high as Mom put her arms around her students. With a mischievous smile, I instructed the team to smile on the count of three.

  “One, two, three, cousin!” I shouted proudly.

  That night, we all gathered around the TV in the manager’s quarters to watch my big interview with the Chinese women’s soccer team. I was sandwiched between Uncle Zhang and Aunt Ling, while Mom sat next to Dad in the living room, and Lupe sat next to her mom. Mrs. Garcia had brought over a big bowl of homemade guacamole, and we were dipping tortilla chips in it. Jason walked in with another appetizer, something new that Hank had been working on.

  I reached for one of the crispy wrapped mini hot dogs.

  “I’m calling them pigs in a towel,” Hank said with a grin. He told me how he’d wrapped them in pretzel dough. I was so proud of him for continuing to innovate and putting the whole Pasadena Grill ordeal behind him. I knew it wasn’t easy.

  “You’re an amazing chef, you know that? You warm us all up with your food.”

  Hank put his hand over mine. “Thanks,” he said. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I don’t need my name on a fancy menu to prove it. I’ve been doing that all along right here.”

  “You certainly have, partner,” Jason said, passing around the delicious pigs in a towel.

  I was glad to have both our talented chefs back under one roof. As we settled down on the sofa, the CBS News theme song started playing.

  “Here it is!!” Mom shouted.

  Liane’s smiling face flashed onto the screen. There was a whoop of joy when the team and I came on.

  “Tonight, we sit down exclusively with the Chinese women’s soccer team. Here to translate for them is local student journalist Mia Tang,” Liane started.

  Jason threw his arms up, accidentally knocking over Hank’s platter and sending all the pigs in a towel flying. I laughed.

  “Leave ’em!” Hank said. “Let’s watch!”

  We all leaned close to the screen. I thought I’d sound like a squeaky mouse on TV, but to my surprise, I spoke clearly and confidently.

  Dad threw his arms around me when it was over. “You were amazing!”

  “You really did such a good job, Mia,” Mrs. Garcia agreed. “You were so calm and poised. So comfortable, and proud. Brava!”

  Lupe turned to her mom. “Hey, there’s something I have to talk to you about.…”

  As Lupe and her mom went to find a quiet place, I heard the front desk phone ringing. I ran over to answer.

  “Mia!” my cousin’s voice greeted me.

  “Shen!” I cried. Finally, he was back! There was so much I had to tell him! “How was Sanya?”

  “Amazing!” he said. “But not as amazing as what you’ve been up to! I saw your column in the middle school Gazette!”

  I beamed. “It was incredible, Shen! I even interviewed them on TV! I’ll send you a tape!”

  “Wow! Yeah, send it so I can show my classmates! They keep saying you were making it up; there’s no way a kid could get an interview with a major soccer team,” Shen said. “I told them you don’t know my cuz!”

  I laughed.

  It had been a pretty incredible couple of weeks. I was so glad I hadn’t given up. Through my digging, I discovered so much, not just about the amazing World Cup players, but also about Mr. Yao’s past. Most of all, I’d discovered that both of my halves could flourish in me. That both sides of me were valid.

  “Mia! Time for dinner!” Mom called.

  I promised to give Shen a minute-by-minute recap after the big game. “Oh, and one more thing—what’s the number of that dofunao place?” I asked. “By Lao Lao’s house?”

  “I don’t know,” Shen said, “but I’ll find out!”

  Hanging up the phone, I skipped over to the kitchen to join my family and friends. Lupe and her mom were sitting next to each other at the dining table. Mrs. Garcia was giving my best friend a massive hug. I sighed with relief—obviously their talk had gone well.

  Then Jason and Hank walked out with a feast. There was spaghetti Bolognese, cheesy shrimp spring rolls, roasted pumpkin frittata, and roasted pork belly with hoisin sauce.

  “Eat up!” Mom said. “Tomorrow, we’re making history!”

  Lupe came over bright and early the next morning so we could get ready for the big match together. Mr. Antwell had called me even earlier in the morning to wish the team good luck. He also said he’d seen the interview and was proud of me.

  “You got here because you kept your eye on the ball and you didn’t give up until you landed on prime time,” he said.

  “Thanks for helping me realize what sports are really about,” I told him.

  Lupe and I put on matching red shirts, just like Gao Hong and Sun Wen were wearing. Then with a white correction marker we drew stripes like the Adidas logo.

  Lupe modeled her finished shirt in the mirror.

  “So what’d your mom say?” I asked.

  “She said whatever I decided, we’d figure it out. And that she and my dad love me, always.”

  I took her hand and looked into her eyes. “All of us love you always.”

  Lupe smiled. “You think Allie’s going to like this? Or will she think it’s weird?” she asked, pointing to her decorated shirt.

  “Course she’s going to like it! Why pay for stripes when you have a Wite-Out marker?”

  Lupe giggled.

  We then headed over to my dresser, where we searched for white scrunchies. We were wearing white socks, white shorts, and white scrunchies for Team USA. I looked in the mirror and smiled at the two halves of me, perfectly represented.

  Mom knocked on my door and called, “Hurry up! The traffic’s going to be horrendous. We gotta go now!”

  “Coming!” I grabbed my reporter’s notebook and camera, and Lupe grabbed the water bottles—it was supposed to be 102 degrees that day!

  Outside, Hank was checking the air on his tires, while Billy Bob was moving an ice cooler to his truck. He was wearing a red shirt too, with matching bright red athletic socks that went all the way to his thighs. I giggled.

  There was a double honk as Uncle Zhang’s and Aunt Ling’s cars rolled in. Everybody was here, except Allie and Jason, who were meeting us at the stadium.

  “You guys ready?” Dad asked.

  Everyone nodded. Mom turned to Mrs. T, who’d agreed to stay behind to watch over the motel, and said, “Remember, if anyone wants a room, make sure you get their—”

  “IDs and a key deposit, I got it. I’ve been practicing for when you guys stay at your house at night!” Mrs. T said with a smile.

  Mom glanced at Dad.

  “You guys still thinking about Maple Hills?” Hank asked.

  My parents nodded.

  “I know it’s scary. But once you’re in there, you’re not even going to think about your neighbor,” Hank said in his experienced-homeowner voice. “Can’t let one narrow-minded guy stop you!”

  Mom gave Hank a half smile as she got into her car.

  “Maybe Hank’s right,” Dad said as she drove. “We should talk to an agent.”

  “We’d have to find another one willing to take us on,” Mom said. “And that’s not so easy.”

  I gazed out the window, mind spinning with things to do. Call real estate agents. Call up Maple Hills. But I told myself I could do all that tomorrow.

  Today, I would cheer my heart out and celebrate the historic accomplishment that my two halves were playing each other at the World Cup. The closer we got to the Rose Bowl, the harder my chest thumped, until I could hardly stand it anymore.

  Turning into the Rose Bowl parking lot, I pressed my nose up against the back window. Row after row of cars waited to get into the lot, as ninety thousand fans made their way to the stadium. I snapped a picture. Never in my entire life had I seen so many people all in one place before.

  “Holy moly!” Lupe cried, jumping out of the car. I spotted Jason getting dropped off by Mr. Yao and waved. Lupe’s parents ran over toward us and joined their daughter. We all followed the crowd, with Mom and Dad close behind us.

  “This is incredible!” Jason said. “I’ve never seen so many people at a game before, not even at a Lakers game on TV!”

  When we got up to the gate, I saw most of the fans were wearing white USA shirts. There were several guys carrying I Love You, Mia Hamm posters. They had lipstick marks on their foreheads. Allie and Lupe rolled their eyes. I looked around and saw American flags draping from several necks. The sight of the American flag always made my heart swell, and today was no exception.

  We spotted Hank and waved at the rest of the weeklies and Uncle Zhang and Auntie Ling. As we waited for them to come over, a large congregation of people started chanting, “USA! USA!” I took another picture.

  Hank came over, and we flashed our tickets. Walking inside, we were shocked to find our seats were super close to the field.

  “Best seats in the house!” Hank clapped his hands.

  Then I noticed that a sizable number of people next to us were wearing red shirts too. Many of them were Asian American, but Team China had white, Black, and Latinx fans as well!

  “They must have seen your interview!” Hank said.

  “You think so?”

  José, Lupe’s dad, nodded. “They’re rooting for the underdog!”

  “That’s the power of telling a story!” Hank smiled.

  My mom gazed at the fans, equally stunned. As the spectators around us waved the Chinese flag, I bumped her shoulder lightly with mine.

  “See that, Mom? Not everyone wants to keep us out.”

  Mom got up and started waving too. She didn’t have a flag, so she waved the next best thing she had in her purse—a postcard of the Calivista. And in a way, that was a sort of flag, because it was a celebration of all of us, from all different colors and backgrounds, living harmoniously together.

  Then the teams made their way onto the field and the fans went wild. I got up and started screaming along with the crowd. As I rooted for the half of me that so rarely got any positive attention in this country, a swell of people behind me joined in. “Go, Team China!” we shouted.

  I spotted Sun Wen running onto the field. I leaned forward and screamed the last line from her poem in Mandarin.

  “ ‘Come on, girls, do not wait to follow your dreams!’ ” I cheered.

  I hoped Sun Wen’s heart vibrated with the eager screams of so many girls who saw themselves out on the field for the first time ever. I hoped her legs felt the strength of their hope. Most of all, I hoped her fingers tingled with the possibility and promise of what this moment meant for womankind.

  As the game kicked off, I could hear the adrenaline pounding in my ears.

  One hundred and twenty tense minutes later, the game was still a scoreless draw. Both teams had played so brilliantly that not a single ball had made it into either goal all afternoon.

  For the last ten minutes, my throat was parched from screaming, and my mom chewed one of her nails to the quick. Then the World Cup officially went into penalty kicks. We all held our breaths.

  “This is it. We’re going into sudden death!” Hank hollered, gripping the bar next to our seats so tight, a coat of paint was coming off.

  Next to us, I heard some other fans speculating.

  “It’s going to get hairy,” one guy said.

  “Who do you think’s gonna run out of gas first?” another woman asked her husband. “The Chinese or the Americans?”

  “Definitely the Chinese. I mean, just look at them—”

  Jason and I both turned around in our seats, clearing our throats. “What exactly are you saying?” I asked.

  The couple immediately quieted down. “Never mind,” the husband said.

  I turned my attention back to the game, sitting on the edge of my seat as Xie Huilin walked toward the ball. “C’mon,” I screamed, pumping my fist in the air.

  Mom was so nervous, she closed her eyes. “You watch for me,” she whispered.

  So I watched with my eyes doubly open as Xie Huilin shot the ball straight into the goal! Score!

  Thunderous cheering erupted from our section of the stadium. Jason, Lupe, and I high-fived as Mom opened her eyes.

  Someone called out, “Do the wave! Do the wave!” I looked back and saw people standing up and down next to one another, and I immediately grabbed my parents. Lupe grabbed her parents. And we did our first ever American wave!

  Up next was Carla Overbeck, who shot one in for the US. The crowd went wild, and Jason gobbled up a whole bag of popcorn, he was so excited. Two more penalty shots later, the stadium erupted again when goalie Briana Scurry saved a shot from Liu Ying.

  Mom and I turned to each other and gulped.

  “That’s one down for China,” Mom said.

  “Have hope, have hope!” Hank urged.

  It had all come down to Brandi Chastain. If she kicked the ball in, Team USA would clinch victory! As Brandi Chastain ran up to the goal, the entire stadium went quiet. As she kicked the ball, Gao Hong threw herself onto the grass to save it, but the ball sailed past her.

  Team USA won!

  Brandi Chastain screamed and took off her jersey. As her teammates ran toward her, the stadium exploded.

  A heavy, bittersweet feeling sank into my stomach as Mom pulled me in for a hug.

  “Next time!” she said.

  I nodded and wiped the tears from my eyes. Lupe pointed at the Chinese players. They were gazing up at the stadium. They seemed like they were just taking it in. Like after all that playing, they finally had a moment to look up.

  Lupe, Jason, and I started running toward the field. Team USA was swamped with fans, but there was nobody around Team China. We hopped over the divider and ran up to our heroes.

  “You guys were amazing!” I cried.

  “Not amazing enough to stop the ball,” Gao Hong sighed. Sun Wen patted her shoulder, but I could tell Gao Hong was taking it hard.

  Liu Ying, who missed the penalty kick, pointed up to the stadium. “It’s all the noise. So many fans. I got distracted.”

  I could tell they were crushed by their defeat. It was so close. It must have been hard playing with so much thunderous clapping. But the fact that ninety thousand people showed up … that must have felt good.

  “Ninety thousand!” I told Liu Yang. “Never before in sports history have that many people turned up for a women’s event. That’s a victory in and of itself!”

  Gao Hong smiled. “It sure is,” she said.

  The players waved to all their fans in the upper rows wearing red jerseys and shouting their names. Folks from all walks of life and ethnicities had turned up for these women because they saw themselves in their struggle.

  “Thank you!” Gao Hong shouted in English.

  “We love you!” a woman shouted back in Spanish.

  “We love you too!” Sun Wen called back.

  Lupe looked over at her parents, who had come down to the field with my mom and dad. They gave her a warm snuggle. We love you, they mouthed to her. I smiled.

  “Hey, you guys hungry?” Jason asked Gao Hong.

  Gao Hong put her goalie glove over her stomach. “Are you kidding? I could eat five hundred dumplings.”

  Jason grinned. “Good, because I know just the place around here!”

  As we started walking over to the team bus together, I gazed at the packed stadium one last time. Ninety thousand screaming fans—I hoped the Chinese team’s ears rang for a long, long time. They scored their goal of elevating women’s soccer and then some!

  That night, we packed into Lotus Garden, where we ordered thirteen different types of dumplings. Mr. Yao drove over with his wife and so did Lupe’s parents and Allie’s, and we managed to polish off every last bamboo basket.

  “This place sure brings back memories,” Mr. Yao said. He pointed to the small goldfish on his teacup and told Jason he still remembered buying the cups with his dad. “I wanted to get these modern gray ones, but your grandfather insisted on these. They were on sale. Ninety-nine cents for two.”

 

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