We arrived at Hēi'àn De Mìmì's famous tourist shop, owned by Abahai's stepfather and mother. The Indian-Chinese boy came out, squinting. His black hair is out like his brown eyes. "Xiran? Ushi? Is that you?"

Abahai's birth mother was a Chinese woman while his father was Hindu. Hēi'àn De Mìmì also had their own fill of gossip regarding his darker skin tone. The gossip worsened when Abahai's father died in a car crash.

His mother remarried a Thai man, he had his own daughter, Chaluai. They all took his last name—Soontornvat. Ushi laughed, running up to Abahai, and tackling him into a hug. "All this work is making you forget what we look like!"

"I could never forget you punks, Ushi," he laughed in perfect English. Other than me, he was very fluent in English, but also Cantonese, Mandarin, Hindi, Korean, Japanese, and Thai. All the tourists have made him into a translating machine. He grinned at me. "Hello, Xiran!"

"Hi, Abahai."

"Come inside, I'll heat up some instant noodles."

We walked into the little shop, already seeing some tourists, mostly Americans. Abahai went to the mini microwave, preparing us spicy pad see ew. "I'm sorry that I've been so busy, Bàba wants to cash in before the tourists disappear."

"It's okay," Ushi said in Cantonese as Abahai handed her a plate of pad see ew. She slurped it up, smiling as the heat rose to her cheeks. "Ooh, it's extra spicy!"

"Just for you." Abahai said, glancing at me. "Spicy or extra spicy?"

"Just spicy, please, thank you."

"Don't your future husband be annoyed that you can't handle spice, Xiran?" Ushi teased me as Abahai shot me a look. He tore his gaze away, punching in numbers for the microwave, blushing. "Oh yeah! Xiran is going to be a matchmaker!"

"Ushi!" I hissed. "Do you want all of Hēi'àn De Mìmì to know?"

"Aren't you a bit young for marriage?" Abahai muttered.

"I don't know, it's mainly Bàba's and Māmā's choice."

He handed me the pad see ew, and I could tell how upset he was based on his gaze. Suddenly, his older step-sister, Chaluai, walked in. She was twenty and had gone to America for schooling. The older boys at my school joked that she was a 'Thai hooker' or something. She was openly lesbian, but their father hasn't been happy with her. "Hey, Abahai!" Chaluai's English was also very good.

"What, Chaluai?" Abahai groaned.

"Stop ogling your girlfriends," she snapped and Ushi burst out laughing. Chaluai reached for the tip jar at the counter, but Abahai swatted her hand away. "Aw, c'mon, little brother, let me have some money."

"No, remember last time?"

"Dad won't know," she rolled her eyes. I always thought how weird it was to call your bàba by Dad, maybe it was an American thing? I wasn't sure. "I want to play and hang out with my friends!"

"You forgot your shift today," he grumbled unhappily. "I had to cover for you, I missed my meeting with my friends because of you."

"Whatever, little brother," Chaluai said, walking out of the shop. Abahai let out a loud groan that the whole gift shop heard. He rubbed his eyes and massaged his temples.

"Hey, man, are you okay?" another male asked in English. We turned around to see an East Asian teenager behind us. He had pale skin and dark brown eyes that were almost brooding. Except, he had this kind of moody and strange aura.

"Yeah, no, sorry, that's my big sister," Abahai said, embarrassed. "Are you a tourist?"

"You can say," he said, smirking. I felt his eyes slide over to me as I tried to hide my face. "My name is Xiong Lee. My ancestors were natives of Hēi'àn De Mìmì, so yeah."

I squirmed uneasy, wondering why I was acting so weirdly in front of this boy. His name—Xiong—meant powerful and strong. Maybe I should stay away from him, Māmā always told me to trust my gut. "Nice to meet you, Xiong."

"Same to you, Xiran," he said, swiftly walking out of the shop without saying goodbye.

"How rude," Ushi chided in Chinese.

"Yeah, I agree," Abahai said, leaning closer to me.

The colour drained from my face. "He said 'Same to you, Xiran' to me."

"So?"

"I never told Xiong my name."