I was envious of my friends who stayed at school for lunch. They1 the same things as the characters in my favourite TV shows. The meals we ate at home were different. One day, a classmate asked what I ate for lunch. I 2, feeling like I'd been caught. Like most days, we'd had fried rice. "Sandwiches," I lied. My face got hot as I turned around, 3 she wouldn't ask anything more.
Still, there was one day of the year when Mom made an4 and I was allowed to stay at school for lunch. My dream would be realistic on that day. Every year, there was Chinese Day at the cafeteria to 5 Chinese New Year. "The school is honoring our heritage," Mom would say. The first Chinese Day lunch I can 6 was when I was about six. I had7 this day for weeks. When the bell rang for lunch, I rushed to the cafeteria. As I stood in line, I imagined the 8 they'd made waiting for me.
There would be9, surely—every Chinese New Year meal included fish. I could explain to my friends what Mom had told me: How the 10 for "fish" in Chinese sounded like another word meaning "abundance". There would be chicken, too, probably with the head still on, because a whole chicken for Chinese New Year 11 wholeness.
The line was slowly moving forward until 12 it was my turn. The cafeteria worker passed me my plate and I looked down. I couldn't 13 anything at all. All I did was sit there, confused. They called this "Chinese" lunch, so why had I never 14 it before? Those first few bites, I realized later, were my 15 to Chinese-Canadian cuisine.
