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ask the French words for “Big Kahuna” and “coral reef.”
    Whenever Lili tried to complain, her mother told her to focus on working for the United Nations or the State Department some day. What Lili didn’t tell her achievement-obsessed mother, of course, was that her real dream was to run a nightclub in New York City. Well, maybe French could come in handy. She could call it the Moulin Rouge, she thought, gazing out of the tinted windows of the SUV as it passed a row of graceful Victorian mansions.
    Lili’s parents had their hearts on their daughter being the first Asian-American something—Supreme Court justice, Secretary of State, governor of California. She was expected to follow in her parents’ footsteps and graduate from Harvard, of course. Actually, theyexpected her to go to Harvard twice—once for her bachelor’s degree, and also for graduate school.
    Maybe Harvard made you write your admissions essay in French, Lili thought, her heart sinking at the sight of the cream-colored Alliance Française building, with its neat blue shutters and pristine window boxes, the French flag hanging above the front door waving in the stiff breeze.
    But it was hard to be too glum today because of the news Lauren Page had sprung at lunch. Their own reality TV show! Now that was the kind of after-school activity that Lili could get enthused about. She had already cleared a number of windows in her overpacked schedule, and Lauren had promised to call the producers that afternoon to set up the first meeting. They wanted to start filming right away, Lauren had said, because the first episodes of the show would go on air while it was still in production.
    The only thing that worried her was the prospect of Ashley trying to take over the show. That would be so like her. Ashley couldn’t be content with being number one on AshleyRank, or having a boyfriend, or stealing the best outfit at A. A.’s place from under Lili’s nose, or any of her other—let’s face it—not-totally-deserved accolades and accomplishments.
    There was no doubt in Lili’s mind: Ashley was already fitting the Preteen Queen crown for her blond head. Lili had to make sure that didn’t happen, and the first place she planned to start was with Lauren herself. The closer Lili got to Lauren, the more camera time she’d score. As soon as she got home tonight, in the half hour free she had once a day, Lili was going to execute her plan.
    She slammed the heavy door of the SUV and marched up the steps of the Alliance Française. She announced herself in French to the pretty receptionist at the desk, then walked up the dramatic, curving staircase to the second-floor private library. She arrived to find her tutor, Madame LeBrun, waiting for her in the elegant, wood-paneled room, seated in a wingback armchair and looking even more thin and pallid than last week.
    â€œBonjour, Madame,” Lili said, demurely sitting in a chair and stowing her Proenza bag at her feet.
    The French teacher sniffed, pressing a delicate handkerchief to her pointy nose. She had allergies all year round, apparently. She wore a drab gray cardigan over a matching jersey skirt, the collar of her blouse was askew.
    Lili shuddered. What about that famous French style? Why wasn’t Madame LeBrun wearing an Hermès scarf or a Chanel suit? At least she could have a chic purse—but no. Madame always carried a canvas book bag overflowing with papers and books. It wasn’t even a cute canvas bag with her initials embroidered on it, like the one from L.L. Bean that Lili’s dad liked to take on their boat. She was sure that if her mother ever got a look at Madame LeBrun, Nancy Khan would demand an instant refund.
    Lili looked around for the only other student in the tutorial. “Is it just the two of us?”
    â€œEn francais, s’il vous plaît,” said Madame LeBrun.
    Lili posed her question in the