Free Mismatch by Lensey Namioka Page A

table. His father made an offer of a hundred dollars!
    There was a murmur of surprise. Nobody else made an offer, so the painting went to Andy’s father. He went down to the auction table, picked up the scroll, and walked back beaming to his seat.
    Andy didn’t even listen to the rest of the auction as he watched his father slowly unrolling the rest of the painting. Andy could make out a black-and-white brush painting of a landscape, with mountains and a small boat in the foreground. “Better roll up the picture, Don,” advised Andy’s mother. “Somebody might bump into it and crumple it.”
    Andy’s father slowly rolled up the scroll and tied it with the silk strings that were attached to the two wooden rollers.
    Soon the auction was over, and cheers and applause broke out. People slowly began making their way to the exits. Andy searched the audience and spotted Sue with her parents.
    Before Andy could make a move, his father was already pushing his way through the crowd toward Sue’s family. He must have remembered Mrs. Hua from their last meeting at the gym.
    Mrs. Hua looked up and smiled at Andy’s father. “You are the gentleman who bought my painting!”
    Andy’s father smiled back. “Yes, when I heard that you did brush paintings, I had been hoping that one of your pictures would be in the auction. It seems that fortune favored me. Maybe I was virtuous in my previous life!”
    Andy knew the Buddhist belief that being virtuous in a previous life led to one’s good fortune. Apparently it was an idea that was familiar to the Huas as well. Mrs. Hua looked delighted. “Yes, I can well believe that!”
    “Do you do calligraphy work, too?” asked Andy’s father.
    “I do,” said Mrs. Hua. “It’s closely related to painting, I always think.” She turned to Sue. “You should practice harder with your brush.”
    “I tried to make my sons practice brushwork, but they never went beyond writing their names in characters,” said Andy’s mother.
    “They complain that they’re too busy with their homework and practicing,” agreed Mrs. Hua. “But certain things are more important than others, and proper brush writing is one of the most important!”
    “I couldn’t agree with you more!” said Andy’s father.
    Andy’s eyes met Sue’s, and he knew they were thinking the same thing. This was a good start. Maybe their families could actually become friends!
    Rochelle, who had been talking to a group of boys in another corner of the gym, now came over. When she saw the two families standing together, she smiled. “So you did introduce Dad and Mom to Andy’s family, after all,” she said to Sue.
    Mrs. Hua looked bewildered. “No, Sue didn’t introduce us.” She turned to look at Andy. “You are Sue’s friend?”
    “We both play in the orchestra,” Sue said quickly.
    Mr. Hua moved forward. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves, then,” he said. “My name is Samuel Hua, and this is my wife, Lillian. I guess you know our two daughters already.”
    Andy’s mother moved into the circle. She stared at Andy and then turned to the Huas. “No, we have not had a chance to know your two daughters,” she said slowly.
    The color in Andy’s father’s face was rising. “Hua? Did you say your name was Hua? That’s a Chinese name, isn’t it?”
    Mrs. Hua nodded. “Yes, we are Chinese, of course. You’re Chinese, too, aren’t you? You recognized the painting as being in the Song dynasty style.”
    “I thought the painting was Japanese,” murmured Andy’s father, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Japanese literati artists do black-and-white ink paintings like this.”
    “You are Japanese?” cried Mrs. Hua.
    “And your name is . . . ,” said Mr. Hua.
    “Our name is Suzuki,” said Andy’s father. He turned to Andy’s mother. “Come on, we have to go home. It’s late.”
    Andy glanced sadly back at Sue as he followed his parents out of the gym.
Guess that was too good to be true.
The only