I used to watch her from my kitchen window and laugh.She seemed so small as she muscled her way through the crowd of boys on the playground. The school was across the street from our home, and I would often watch the kids as they played during break. A sea of children ,and yet to me, she stood out from them all. Running circles around the other kids, she always managed to shoot jump-shots just over their heads and into the net. She practiced dribbling and shooting over and over again, sometimes until dark.

One day I asked he why she practiced so much. As she turned her head, her dark ponytail whipped quickly around and she looked squarely into my eyes. Without hesitating, she said,”I want to go to college. The only way I can go is to get a scholarship. My Daddy told me if the dream is big enough, the facts don’t count.”Well, I had to give it to her—she was determined. I watched her through those junior high years and into high school. Every week, she led her school team to victory.

The next year, as she and her team went to the Northern California Championship game, she was offered a scholarship and on the college team. She was going to get the college education that she had dreamed of.

The familiar smell of garlic and onion filled the air as I opened my lunch bag to see what my mom had packed for me. On any other occasion, I would have been delighted to eat my mom’s pan-fried tofu: a Chinese dish that I often ate for dinner. But not today，the day a nice girl had invited me, the new girl at school, to sit with her friends during lunch.

“Charis, over here！”My new friend was waving her arms, trying to get my attention.

As I prepared to walk over to the table, memories of elementary and middle school lunch times resurfaced. I remembered my embarrassment as my friends would hold their noses when I brought homemade Chinese food. I remembered how my embarrassment shifted to anger when I complained about the smell to my mom.

I had argued with my mom that I wanted “normal” food for lunch. I remembered the look on my mom’s face, a mix between disappointment and confusion. But I was determined and she gave in. So for the remainder of middle school, my mom packed odorless(没有气味), non-Chinese food like ham and cheese sandwiches. However, that day, she was in a rush and packed me leftovers from dinner.

As soon as I got to my new lunch table, I tried to hide my lunch bag down under my seat. I sat quietly, trying not to be noticed when Katrina, a new acquaintance, asked where my food was. “I’m not really hungry,” I replied in an insecure voice. But Katrina had already seen me carry my lunch so she spoke out, “Then, I’ll eat it！” The other girls laughed-apparently Katrina was known to be a big eater.

I didn’t want to be rude to a potentially new friend, so I reluctantly dragged out my lunch bag. The moment I lifted the cover of my lunch container, I could practically taste the garlic and onion.

The girls, piqued(激起好奇心)by the smell in the air, all curiously looked at the oval-shaped container. I expected an “Ew” or a“What is that？”

I had expected them to turn away-and turn me away before Katrina grabbed a small piece of tofu and enjoyed it.

When I arrived home, my mom asked how my day went.