Excerpt from What Hunger by Catherine Dang, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Dammit," I blurted.

"Don't throw shit if you can't take it," said Tommy with a laugh.

I readied myself, my hand about to strike back, but then I stopped. Tommy froze as we both stared at the house to our left. The neighbor's front door had just opened, and the neighbor's wife had stepped outside. I called her Gigi, a name of glamour and mystery. She was a white lady who often wore sunglasses and long dark clothes. We'd lived next to Gigi and her husband for years, but we had never spoken to them. They never said anything to us. And we'd reached a point where it was too late—a simple wave would have been too intimate.

Gigi stopped in the driveway. Even with her sunglasses on, I knew that she'd glanced at the street and all the strange cars that now lined the block. She'd seen our garage, observing the cigarette smoke and the men's laughter that poured out of it. And then she'd seen me and Tommy.

Immediately I felt guilty. I put my hands back in my lap. I realized how bad it looked: an empty Heineken bottle at our feet, the two of us fighting outside of the house, swearing.

Our parents were firm about behaving in public.

If you make a scene, they'll call the police, and what'll you do then? Do you want to deal with that? Do you want to pay a fine, go to juvie?

The answer was no, always.

Tommy and I stayed quiet, our hands to ourselves. We waited for Gigi to get in her car and drive away. Her window was open. I caught a whiff of her perfume, a heavy dose of citrus.

By the time her car had disappeared, Tommy and I had reached a stalemate. His shoulders had relaxed, and I'd leaned back into the grass.

More laughter exploded from the garage. Someone guffawed in quick bursts, nearly half screaming. It was followed by more laughter. I closed my eyes, the sun on my face, and inhaled the fresh scent of grass and the faint burn of cigarettes. I caught a whiff of the heavy salt-shrimp smell of m?m ru?c. It was the most potent sauce in the house, something that our parents used once in a while. The odor was so bad it made me cry as a toddler.

But I realized I didn't hate it anymore. It smelled distinctly of home.

In that one moment, everything was right. I was warm, and I was full, and the world smelled nice. It was a good day.

"We'll do a lot of stuff, okay?" I said out loud. "Before you go."

"We will," Tommy replied.

Though, when I opened my eyes, I saw him staring up at the highway.

Excerpted from What Hunger by Catherine Dang. Copyright © 2025 by Catherine Dang. Excerpted by permission of Simon & Schuster. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.