I was totally worried. And I won't deny it.

By the time we all finished, it was way past bed time. Aria and Sophia said good night, and walked to the dorms. I did, too. I opened the door, and found Don, laying on his homemade, red bed spread, decorated with Chinese dragons, neatly on his bed.

A word, before you call me racist.

         Last night, Don said that he was Chinese- Canadian, with Pharaoh blood on his mother's side, he lived in Calgary his whole life until last year when he went to the House of Life, and his parents, his dad joined recently after Don's birth, died when he baby, fighting for the house. He had no mom, no dad, no aunts, no uncles, no godmothers or godfathers, and no siblings; which meant that he lived with his father's mother: his grandmother. He had pictures of his grandmother over his side of the room: on the wall, on his nightstand, near his House of Life Bag. Weird thing: he only called her "Grandmother", not even "grandma", "g-ma", or even the old "Nana". In the photos, she always seemed to be dressed sophisticated, with her black- grey hair in a tight bun on her head, not a hair out of place,  and a dull, flower dress on her skinny, pale body. But, Don had said, she was like a lion: feisty and demanded respect and order. Tonight, had called him on his cell, which Don said that she did every night.

The convo had gone a little something like this:

"Fai," she said. Her voice had a Chinese Accent, was steely and sharp, like she had no tolerance for anything but respect.

"Yes, Grandmother." He said. I looked at him for the answer, why she was calling him Fai.

He whispered, She says that Don isn't a Chinese name. She's the only one who calls me that.

"Have you eaten your vitamins?" She asked.

"Yes, Grandmother."

"And you've eaten dinner?"

"Yes, Grandmother."

"What did you have?" She said.

"A burger, Grandmother." He answered.

"What?" Her voice was concerned. "You know how much calories in there? Too many, Fai! Too many! Why don't you have Chinese food? Lay off the fast food, Fai! You beginning to get fat, my silly ox!"

"Thank you, Grandmother."

Even though I couldn't see her expression, I knew that she was angered, her nostrils flared. "Was that sarcasm, Fai?"

"Yes, Grandmother."

"Good. There may be some hope for you yet. Did you get elected Chief Lector, silly ox?"

"No, Grandmother." Don sighed.

Don's Grandmother cursed in Rapid fire mandarin. "It was that Ayan girl, wasn't it? Oh, that little upstart, banning me from seeing you on your birthday! And not to mention her hating the red bed spread I sent you because it is 'bad luck'! I have had quite-"

"How are things in Calgary, Grandmother?" Don asks, changing the subject.

"Oh," the old woman sighs, her angry fire burning out, "things have been slow, ever since your Grandfather's funeral back in April. I've been doing okay, I guess, by myself. The maid's coming more often, though. I can't do things like how I used to, back when Hazel was around. Michael was lucky to have married her."

Don glanced at a picture. A Chinese woman, with some plain clothes: an oversized blue knit sweater, some jeans, and red flats. She had short, choppy hair, a little uneven, with tilted bangs. She didn't have much makeup, a little bit of pink lip gloss. But her eyelashes were thick and long, with warm brown eyes, smile crinkles and pale skin. Even though she didn't put too much effort in her look, she was gorgeous. She sat cross- legged on a red chair, hugging a little boy. The boy was maybe only two, no more than four, with a crew cut and vague Chinese features. She was cuddling him, it seemed, poking him in the belly, which made the kid look like he was laughing because of it. He had a big gap in his smile, where his two front teeth should be. I knew automatically that this was-

"Don," I said, "Your mom's beautiful."

Don glanced back at his phone. I knew my mistake: she was beautiful. Don sniffed. I couldn't blame the big guy. I had lost my mom when I was 6, a few years more than Don had with his parents. As far as I was concerned, shedding a few tears didn't make you any less of a man, especially if you had to be reminded of that kind of memory.

Unfortunately, his Grandmother disagreed.

"Fai!" His grandmother snapped. "Men do not cry! Especially Zhang men! They are the toughest kind!"

Don sniffed again, trying shaking the sadness out of his voice. "You're right, Grandmother."

"Of course I am! By Buddha's monkey, Fai, pull yourself together! But Hazel was beautiful. You need a strong woman, like me, like your mother, in your life! Like that Aria girl you said you saw today at pract-"

"Right, Grandmother!" He said, blushing. "Strong Women! Zhang men don't cry!"

The old woman sighed in exasperation. "Clean your ears, Fai! That's exactly what I just said! Now, you have gotten your hair cut lately? Last time I saw you in person, you looked like a woman!"

This time, Don sighed in exasperation. "No, Grandmother."

"Is that how you represent your family, boy? I want your hair trimmed, washed, and combed the next time I see or hear from you! Is that clear?" She instructed.

Don straightened. "Y- yes, Grandmother! But I've been busy lately, Grandm-"

"No excuses! Our family name shall not be built on sloppiness and laziness! Do I make myself clear, Fai Zhang?"

"Yes, Grandmother! Crystal clear!" Don said.

"Good!" Her voice softened. "Hazel would be proud, Fai. And so would my son. Michael would be proud to call you his child."

"I'll make you proud, Grandmother." Don said.

She must have muttered something, I had thought for a second she said You have. There was silence.

"Stop doing that, Fai! That thing where I say something and you get all quiet! To bed! And don't forget about your hair! And brush your teeth! And fix your bed! And-"

"Good night, Grandmother." Don said flatly as he hung up the phone.