Portrait of a Thief

by Grace D. Li

What’s wrong with wanting everything? Nothing, as long as you know how to get it.

“History isn’t going to make itself.”

All these years, and Lily had never known how to love a place and not leave it behind.

Irene Chen, with the practiced knife of her smile, the beauty she wore like a weapon, could have been every Asian girl at Bronx Science, at MIT, who had looked at Alex and found her wanting.

Recklessness for the sake of recklessness, to chase away the despair of not being enough,

There were so many ways this could end in grief.

“Because,” he said, “what I draw is never as lovely as what I see.”

Sometimes, if you wanted change, you had to make it.

That kind of money—it could change lives, break things open.

“Look at the style of the theft—it’s bold, reckless, not at all characteristic of the long game China seems to have been playing for the past few decades. It seems too—obvious.”

“You’re not the only one with something to lose, Irene.”

“Growing up,” Lily said, “it felt like I was the only person who didn’t know where I came from. So many of the other families had been there for

“Anything,” Lily said. “We have the rest of our lives ahead of us. There are still things we can change.”

“Damn,” he said. “I hate personal growth.”

“History is an ongoing process, though, isn’t it?” Will asked. “And what we remember has always been determined by what museums choose to display.”

Paris, in the evening light, did not feel real.

“I know what this means to you. But it means something to all of us. It’s a chance for—for something new. For healing. For a future. And right now we’re all waiting for you to tell us what to do.” “I know,”