Hi. I’m a young Vietnamese American girl living in Orange County, California. Well, I used to. “We moving to Mangoville!” my mom had laughed. “Mango!” Me, Logan, and Tiffany all groaned when we heard those words. Logan was about to start his school year as the top-dog ABB. Don’t know what an ABB is? It’s an Asian Baby Boy, and I’m sorry you asked.

“Du ma!” my brother cursed.

“Watch yo mouth!” my dad retorted as he innately smacked him.

“Yeah! No swearing!” Tiffany pushed.

Tiffany, by all explanations, is short and kind of stupid. Though I like to think that no person is truly stupid, Tiffany has broken my rule. Yet she always gets away with it. I guess it’s because she’s short and cute that she’s able to slip through like rain on concrete.

And then there’s me: Tam. No it doesn’t rhyme with “cam” or “ram.” It more rhymes with “rum” or “mum.” And yes. I’m the only kid who was named with an actual Vietnamese name. Funnily enough too, I find that my parents usually don’t pay as much attention to me. Probably because they trust me enough to take care of myself, but it’s also probably because I’m the middle child. Did you know John F. Kennedy was a middle child? I’m sure that even if I was president or was assassinated by the CIA, my parents would probably not care that much.

“When are we moving?” I asked.

“This Saturday!”

“But today’s Saturday.”

“Yepadoodle!” my mom giggled.

Okay. Great. We’re moving like right now. Great. So while Tiffany cries and Tristian curses, I easily slip out to my room. I gotta pack up my stuff. Alright. I can only choose a handful.

Item number one: boxing handwraps. I don’t need wraps since my knuckles are strong enough, so I’m tossing them. Okay, item number two: notebook where I journal my ideas. In all honesty, I don’t remember what I wrote–oh my god. Are these just pages of randomness? Like I mean random. Some are just random words like “goat milk” or “American cheese industry.” Yeah I’m definitely tossing it.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Alright, item number three: my kpop CTF vinyl. I love that band. I don’t even know why. Usually, I hate corporate cash grabs, especially when it comes to the classic gambit of boy bands. But CTF, especially Jung Seong? I would want a picture of him inside my grave. I am bringing this vinyl.

Anyways, I pack my luggage and get myself ready for my flight. Since the rest of my family JUST started packing, I’m gonna see what the whole thing about “Mangoville” is about. Using my phone, I just give the place a simple Google search.

Mangoville, Oklahoma. Wait, Oklahoma? Why would anyone wanna be in Oklahoma? Oklahoma, according to US News, is rated at #48 in healthcare and, worse yet, #42 in education. Still, I couldn’t find much about Mangoville in terms of stats. Probably because no one bothered to take note of a place nobody cares about.

“Yo Tam!” Tristan called. “We’re heading out.” I put away my phone and head outside where an uber is waiting in his car. After we stuff our stuff in the back, we sit inside, with me sandwiched between Tristan and Tiffany. Oh no. The driver is talking to us.

“So, where are y’all headin’?” Why are you even asking us? Your job is just to drive us to our destination. I understand that you wanna get your five stars, but you’re definitely not gonna get it by giving me a headache with your–

“We going to Mangoville!” my mom answered.

“Wow. I haven’t heard of it.”

Oh no mom. Why? Why did you have to egg this clown on? “Mangoville is small town in Oklahoma. Very quiet,” my mom adds.

“Sounds great. What’s your social security number?”

“829-18-9203,” my mom answers.

Wait, what the fuck?

“What is your mission?” the driver asks.

“I must destroy the Bill, Hillary & Chelsea Clinton Foundation,” my mom answers like a robot.

Mom, what the hell? Wait, what’s going on? Is that a gun she’s pulling out? No. No way. There is no way that this is–

“Yo Tam, wake up.” Oh. I was dreaming. Thank god. Nonprofits are kind of cool, though it’s possible the Bill, Hillary & Chelsea Clinton Foundation is a scheme to be exempted from taxation. Anyways, as I open my eyes and navigate past my headache, I realize I’m in a new car. No. I’m in a new town. I’m in Mangoville.