Chapter 1: Certain fruit from a poppy will be all
"Can you finish this problem for me, Da-Xia?" my mom frowned, pointing at the chalk board with her long wooden stick.
"Yeah yeah, sure." I groaned, trudging up to the dinky little board. I was going through some serious withdrawal right now. Not crack, not LSD- opium. That's right, the old ass stuff from China that the Brits desperately craved in the Victorian Era.
But don't blame me. That's just how I grew up. The drug's smoke had always filled at least one part of the house, all thanks to my Chinese mom, Chun-Yan Jones. Well, she had taken her maiden name back when my parents got divorced, so I guess now she's Chun-Yan Wang. And actually, the opium is one of the reasons my parents got divorced. My dad. Alfred F. Jones, hated the smoke getting my mother and sometimes me high. He didn't have really any room to talk though, being a deadbeat who wasn't bringing in any money. Dad insisted on being a professional baseball player, even though he wasn't in that good of shape. So they split up about 5 years ago, and now I've been going back and forth between my mom's Chinatown house and the little shack my dad lives in. Hell, my parents hate each other so much, they call me different names. Da-Xia Wang at Mom's, and Daisy Jones at Dad's. I guess they sounded pretty much the same. And they both meant "big hero".
"Can't we just smoke some? We've been doing this for hours." I frowned, slumping over and facing my mom as the white chalk in my hand touched the board. She insisted on homeschooling me, just because she thinks all Americans are now "Obnoxious and disgusting pigs" because of Dad.
She gave me her signature arm-cross-glare. "I told you, I'm trying to get both of us off that drug for good."
"Please, you'll just come back to it in a couple days when your boyfriend comes back over." I sighed, turning back to the board and finishing the equation. Just like in the old times, mom had found herself a British man craving opium just as much as any 1900's Brit did. The irony in it though, was that he used to be Dad's old preppy and stuck-up friend in high school. Yep, the opium changes you.
"Excuse me young lady?!" her eyes grew fiery. "Go to your room! No TV, no computer, and defiantly no opium!". Mom pointed her sleeve covered arm up the rickety stairs, and to my room.
Great. Well I'm pretty much screwed for the rest of the evening. Even if I couldn't get any of my precious drug, I still could have watched the Dodgers game on my TV. That's the only thing that I liked just as much as smoking my special pipe. They're even going for the pennant.
I flopped down on my dragon-print bedspread, looking out the window at all the little shops with characters on their signs I couldn't read. Most of them had like a panda, or one of those weird golden waving kitty things next to the characters. Man, was I sick of this place. That was the problem with me. I'd always get into some kind of trouble or fight whichever house I went to. Mom always wanted me to act like a perfect little Chinese girl, and hated me leaving the house or watching baseball. And my dad could be lazy as fuck, and he despised opium. So after a couple days with one parental unit, I'd be groaning about wanting to go to the other one.
"Bah…" I mumbled, rolling over on my back and putting my arm over my eyes. "I just gotta wait till tomorrow, and then I can see Dad."