The Many Masks of Andy Zhou

“Another beautiful book by Jack Cheng.”;--Erin Entrada Kelly, Newbery Award-winning author of Creative and brave sixth grader Andy Zhou faces big changes at school and at home in this new novel by the award-winning author of Andy Zhou is used to being what people need him to be: the good kid for his parents and now grandparents visiting from Shanghai, or the helpful sidekick to his best friend Cindy’s rebellious plans and schemes. So when Cindy decides they should try out for Movement at school on the first day of sixth grade, how can Andy say no? But between feeling out of place with the dancers, being hassled by his new science partner Jameel, and sensing tension between his dad and grandfather, Andy feels all kinds of weird. Then, over anime, Hi-Chews, and Andy’s lizard-inspired artwork, things shift between him and Jameel, opening up new doors--and also new complications. No matter how much Andy cares about his friends and family, it’s hard not to feel pulled between all the ways he''s meant to be, all the different faces he wears, and harder still to figure out if any of these masks is the real him. “A joy and a journey.” --Tae Keller, Newbery Award-winning author of “Sincere . . . Perceptive . . . Captures the joys and complex anxieties of middle school.” -- "Beautiful . . . Recommended for fans of Erin Entrada Kelly and Nicole Melleby." "Realistic . . . Compelling." -- "Beautifully and naturally depicts Chinese American family life and the first year of middle school” --Common Sense Media “There’s an aching poignancy [that] will resonate with kids.” -- "Beautifully written, [with] complexity and nuance." --Book Riot “Andy’s quiet courage and budding artistry have readers cheering him on.” --Paula Yoo, National Book Award longlisted-author of <From a Whisper to a Rallying Cry<...

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Jack Cheng

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*“Another beautiful book by Jack Cheng.” —Erin Entrada Kelly, Newbery Award-winning author of Hello, Universe*

Creative and brave sixth grader Andy Zhou faces big changes at school and at home in this new novel by the award-winning author of See You in the Cosmos, for fans of When You Trap a Tiger and The Stars Beneath Our Feet**

Andy Zhou is used to being what people need him to be: the good kid for his parents and, now, his grandparents in from Shanghai, or the helpful sidekick for his best friend Cindy’s plans and schemes. So when Cindy decides they should try out for Movement on the first day of sixth grade, how can Andy say no? But between feeling out of place with the dancers after school, being hassled by his new science partner Jameel in class, and sensing tension between his dad and grandfather at home, Andy feels all kinds of weird. Then over anime, Hi-Chews, and art, things start to shift between Andy and Jameel, opening up new doors—and new problems. Because no matter how much Andy cares about his friends and family, it’s hard not to feel pulled between all the ways he’s meant to be, all the different faces he wears, and harder still to figure out if any of these masks is the real him.

“A joy and a journey.” —Tae Keller, Newbery Award-winning author of When You Trap a Tiger
“Perceptive . . . Captures the joys and complex anxieties of middle school.” —Kirkus
"Beautiful . . . Recommended for fans of Erin Entrada Kelly and Nicole Melleby." —SLJ
"A brilliant, heartfelt story of self-discovery.” —Shelf Awareness (starred review)
"Realistic . . . Compelling." —Booklist
"Beautifully and naturally depicts Chinese American family life and the first year of middle school” —Common Sense Media
“There’s an aching poignancy [that] will resonate with kids.” —BCCB
"Beautifully written, [with] complexity and nuance." —Book Riot
“Andy’s quiet courage and budding artistry have readers cheering him on.” —Paula Yoo, National Book Award longlisted-author of From a Whisper to a Rallying Cry

Leseprobe
SEPTEMBER
Like an Ant, Probably
“Andy, did you hear me?” Baba’s eyes flick up in the rearview mirror. He switches to English. “You always look like thinking. What you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” I say, and stare out the window again. A motorcycle zooms by at full speed, weaving in and out of the freeway traffic.
Baba flips back to Shanghainese. “I was saying, you know how difficult these past years have been for Hao Bu and Ah Dia. You have to help them, okay?”
“Help them with what?”
“With whatever they need,” says Mama from the front passenger seat.“It’s a different lifestyle here. Let’s make their stay comfortable for them.”
Baba nods. “Ever since your ah dia little boy, his dream visit America. We have show he and Hao Bu best American time.” Baba’s eyebrows go up in the mirror.“Xiaolei, you can make sign with they name! Have airport name sign for Hao Bu and Ah Dia see!”
“Don’t people only do that for strangers?”
“Andy, come,” my dad says in his don’t-argue-with-me voice. “Be a good grandson, okay?”
Mama twists around and hands me her tablet. I open the drawing app, which still has my doodle from the last time Cindy and I hung out. I clear the screen.
“Let’s wait until they’re settled first,” says Baba, picking up their conversation from before.
“You think they’ll agree?”
“Ma might. But Ba—you know that older generation. They don’t really trust doctors.”
“You’re going to miss the exit.”
Baba clicks on the turn signal. “We’ll take it step by step.”
I look up from the blank screen.
“Mama, Baba, I don’t know Hao Bu and Ah Dia’s names.”
We pull into International Arrivals. Lines of cars are wait-ing already, parking lights red in the echoey underpass. My dad and I go through the spinning glass doors while my mom waits in the car—that way we don’t get a ticket.
“Ma, where are you!” Baba’s shouting into his phone. His voice gets deeper and louder when he’s on it, like he’s making up for the tiny microphone holes.“We’re just outside the baggage claim!” he says. “Send me a WeChat when you get this!”
We find an open spot along the metal guard rail. I aim the tablet toward the sliding doors at the end, which have big red stickers saying do not enter. It’s mostly other Chinese families here, but there are also drivers in suits and ties, holding up their own tablets and signs. Back in the car, Mama wrote out my grandparents’ names so I could draw them bigger on the screen, and Baba told me how to pronounce them. I recognize my own last name,Zhou, but I’ve already forgotten the rest.
“Andy,” says Baba. “Go ask when they’re coming out.” He points toward a guard sitting by the sliding doors. She’s scrolling through something on her phone.
“They’ll probably be out soon,” I say.
“Go ask.”
“Can’t you just check the app?”
“Go. Your English is better than mine,” says Baba.“Quickly.”
I hand him the tablet and duck under the rail, just as the doors at the end slide open. Out comes a businesswoman with a roller bag, her suit jacket draped over the handle. Behind her is a group of maybe college students with duffels and white sneakers, and wireless headphones around their necks. One of t…