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was so happy at her reaction. She knew I wasn't trying to deny who I was inside. I was just trying to fit in for once.
    That left one more person to face, and it was the hardest one: Nainai, my Chinese grandmother. She's always telling me how much I look like Dad, her favorite son. How would she feel, now that I had orange Jell-O hair?
    I would soon find out, because Dad and I were going to the airport to pick her up this evening.

a s Dad and I drove to the airport, I tried to imagine how Nainai would feel when she saw my hair. Would she think I dyed my hair so I wouldn't look like Dad anymore? So I wouldn't even look Chinese anymore?
    Anxiously scanning the passengers filing out of the airplane, I finally caught sight of her slight figure. I braced myself as she approached. What would she say?
    She came up to us, and walked right past me. She didn't recognize me!
    “Ma!” Dad called out. His voice was higher than usual, but at least it didn't become childish.
    Nainai turned around and saw him. She beamed as he put his arms around her.
    “And here is Fiona,” said Dad.
    I gulped. “Hello, Nainai,” I managed to say, and waited for her reaction.
    Nainai's eyes widened as she looked at my hair. After a pause that seemed to last forever, she turned to Dad and said, “Well, at least she didn't change her features.”
    This was exactly what Dad had said, too. He and Nainai exchanged a glance. What did they mean?
    We went to collect Nainai's baggage. Just as I expected, she had two huge pieces of checked luggage, a big suitcase and a paper carton containing Chinese groceries. For the past year, we've tried to tell her that we can buy perfectly good Chinese stuff right here in Seattle, but she still thinks we're far from civilization and need supplies of “real food” from San Francisco's Chinatown.
    Dad grunted as he heaved the suitcase onto a luggage cart. I grabbed at the paper carton, and was nearly dragged aboard the moving luggage conveyor belt. Dad and Nainai hauled me back just in time.
    Panting, Dad said something to Nainai in Chinese, and I knew it meant, “Mother, you shouldn't have brought all these things.”
    Nainai just smiled her sweet smile. She probably thought Dad was being polite, and I guessed that she would bring as much stuff next time, if not more.
    As soon as we got home, Dad went into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Nainai went with him, and I could hear them talking in Chinese. Again, his voice sounded a little higher than usual. I peeked into the kitchen and found him standing by the counter, meekly listening to Nainai as she told him how to prepare one of the dishes. It would be really embarrassing if he went into his little boy act at the dinner table, when Grandpa and Grandma MacMurray were there. To my relief, Dad spoke in his grown-up voice at dinner.
    When Grandpa and Grandma MacMurray visit us, Dad usually cooks dishes that are familiar to most Westerners,things like beef and broccoli or sweet-and-sour pork. But tonight the dishes he cooked used many of the new ingredients Nainai had brought with her.
    “What's this?” asked Grandpa.
    The thing he held up was limp, transparent, and slippery. It didn't have any flavor of its own, and you could taste only the gravy. I had eaten it before, and if I hadn't known what it was, I would have enjoyed it a lot more. I hoped very hard that Dad wouldn't tell Grandpa the truth.
    But of course Dad didn't hesitate. “It's jellyfish.”
    “I brought it over today from San Francisco,” Nainai said with a pleased smile. “You soak it until it's soft, and then braise it in soy sauce, wine, and ginger. Good, isn't it?”
    Grandpa gulped and put his hand over his mouth. But he was game, and took another bite. This time he even managed to swallow.
    Grandma couldn't quite control her shudder when Grandpa passed the dish of jellyfish to her. “I'll have trouble picking it up with my fork,” she said, and passed it on. It was a weak excuse, and we all knew