Mismatch by Lensey Namioka

right!” muttered Andy’s father. “So those artists learned the style from the Chinese. Maybe the Chinese were cultured people at one time. . . .”
    “They taught the Japanese how to write,” said Andy out of the side of his mouth.
    But his father heard him anyway. “That was more than a thousand years ago! The man who spat on my shoe, he’s someone who lives in China
today
!”
    “Mrs. Hua didn’t live a thousand years ago,” said Andy’s mother. “She’s a living, breathing Chinese—well, okay, a Chinese American. I personally would like to get acquainted with her. And with her family.”
    Andy waited anxiously. His father took a deep breath, and after a minute the red in his face began to fade.
    His mother then said, “Why don’t we invite your friend—what was her name again? Oh yes, Sue—to our house?”
    Andy’s father frowned. He seemed to be considering the idea. Andy wondered whether he was picturing Sue dumping garbage everywhere and spitting on his shoes. After a moment his father nodded. “Oh, all right. Maybe we can give her a few tips on what to expect in Japan. There are things she has to know for the orchestra trip.”
    Andy felt a rush of relief, but it quickly gave way to concern when he remembered what Sue had told him about her mother and grandmother. “Uh . . . well . . . the thing is . . .”
    “What’s the matter, Andy?” his mother asked quietly.
    Andy said in a rush, “Honestly, I’m not sure how Sue’s parents will feel about her visiting a Japanese family.”
    His father’s face reddened again, and Andy knew that the little bit of ground he had gained was lost. He just hoped his mother would be able to smooth things over one more time.

6
    A s the Huas made their way home, Rochelle was the only person who said anything.
    “What did I tell you, Sue? You should have let Dad and Mom know about Andy!”
    Sue didn’t reply. They sat in icy silence for the rest of the drive.
    When they arrived home, Sue went into the kitchen to make some tea. Whenever there was a stormy scene at home, her mother always served tea, a soothing drink that was supposed to calm tempers. But this time its soothing effect didn’t work right away.
    Her mother took a sip of tea, found it too hot, and banged her cup down. She glared at Sue. “To think that you would become friendly with one of those monsters! How could you betray your grandmother like this?”
    Sue tightened her lips. She had known that her grandmother’s feelings would be hurt by learning that she was seeing a Japanese boy, but to call it a betrayal was unfair. She didn’t say anything, though, not wanting to make things worse. She would just have to ride out the storm.
    Rochelle looked uncomfortable. “Mom, Andy isn’t a monster,” she said. “He plays the violin. From what I hear, he’s pretty good, too.”
    Her mother’s lips curled. “Ha! So you think that playing the violin excuses everything? Didn’t some evil Roman emperor play the violin while the city burned?”
    “Nero didn’t play the violin,” murmured Sue. “It wasn’t even invented yet. People think that what he played must have been a lyre.”
    “Don’t try to be smart with me, young lady!” shouted her mother. “It’s not just that the boy is Japanese. What I can’t forgive is your dishonesty, your sneaky behavior.”
    Sue’s father put down his teacup gently on the coffee table. “Lillian, I think you’re not being fair to Sue.” He turned to Sue. “I gather that you didn’t tell us about this boy because you knew we would disapprove?”
    Sue’s throat tightened. She was prepared to face her mother’s anger, but her father’s sympathy almost broke her down. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to hide Andy from you forever. I just wanted to wait until I got the chance to convince you that not all Japanese are monsters.”
    “You’ll have a long, long wait!” snapped her mother. “The