“This isn’t just a book,” I tell her. “This is us.” Mom glances at the book in the rearview mirror as I explain. “You think that just because Hazel goes to fancy sleepaway camp, that’s cool. Guess what? In this book, the girl and her parents live inside a flea shop! Every weekend, they have to go searching at garage sales, looking for valuable junk!” Millie doesn’t say anything. But she gazes curiously at the smiling Chinese American girl on the cover.
