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it was me against the parasites. Well, I was probably going to end up dead anyway, and I bet the parasites would hurt a whole lot less than whatever these people had planned for me. I raised the pitcher to my lips and paused.
    Bottoms up
.
    Now for food. I looked down at the plate next to me. The
injera
was gray and spongy. Repulsive. I’ve never liked
injera
. Usually people eat it with saucy meat or vegetables on top to give it some flavor, but this was plain, with nothing to disguise the fact that
injera
feels and tastes like sour gym socks. I poked it, and my finger left a dent.
I can’t eat this
. But there was nothing else.
    Okay, do it fast, like pulling off a Band-Aid
. I tore off a piece, and it stuck to my fingers like those steamed pork buns you get in Chinese restaurants. Except those buns are delicious. Plugging my nose with onehand, I stuffed the
injera
into my mouth with the other.
Chew, chew, chew, chew, swallow
. I gagged. Half of it was still in my throat. I swallowed again, hard, and it went down.
    Eating food I hated and doing things I didn’t want to do.
I really should be used to it by now. It’s the story of my life
.

Chapter Seven
Three Months Ago

    I T WAS YET another of about a thousand official dinners, and I
really
hadn’t wanted to go. This one was just plain weird. China had made a gift of a sports stadium to Ethiopia. The construction was almost done, and the Chinese ambassador had invited my mother and me to see the new building.
    I was leaning against the doorjamb of my mother’s bedroom, watching her put on makeup.
Why couldn’t I have inherited any of the beautiful genes?
    â€œDo I really have to go to this thing? You know I’m going to be the only kid there. Besides, don’t you think the Chinese could have found a better way to help Ethiopia than by building a
sports stadium
?”
    She capped her lipstick. “Yes, you have to go. You know how much Ambassador Li likes you. He would be very disappointed if you weren’t there. Look, Lucy, don’t worry about politics. Just try to have some fun.”
    â€œWell, what am I supposed to say? ‘My, what lovely seats you have!’ Or ‘How many stalls did you say there were in the men’s room?’ ”
    My mother tried to look stern, but I could tell she thought I was funny. Her dimples were showing. It was a dead giveaway. “Those sound like excellent and appropriate compliments. Now let’s go.”
    Iskinder was waiting for us with the BPM. We got in back, and he took off. I stared out the window while my mother reminded me for the ten millionth time how not to act like a Neanderthal.
    â€œ. . . And remember, it’s not polite to refuse any food. Just take small helpings of everything they serve tonight and do your best to finish them.”
    Had she honestly forgotten how many of these things I’d been to in my life? And when had I ever embarrassed her? True, there was the time I got into a fistfight with that Belgian kid. But we were eight years old—and he’d started it.
    The stadium was in the center of the city. Tall black iron gates blocked the entrance. We cleared security and drove slowly down a long winding driveway paved with pale yellow bricks. Lining the driveway on both sides were Chinese workers wearing round flat straw hats, stationed there to greet us.
    â€œHey, Mom,” I said, “I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” She gave me a nudge.
    Ambassador Li was waiting for us by the front doors with a big smile on his face. “Hello, Willa! Welcome, Lucy! I am so glad you are here tonight to see the very beautiful stadium my country has built for Ethiopia.”
    â€œAnd we are so happy to be here, Ming,” my mother gushed. “What a wonderful gift. It will do so much to enhance the lives of the many people who use it.”
    Just to show I’m not such a clod after all, I shook hands with Ambassador