“Papa.”


“Win, Crush, Be the king.”


My father, Bread Trumpet, said the line we’d heard a hundred times before.

In the Trumpet family, only victory was allowed.


“Get on with it, Pakdonald. Or the rent’s gonna shoot up.”


My father does residential development all over Queens.Thousands of families live in apartments he built. In other words, he’s the king of Queens.


Pakdonald shrugged and disappeared to the back of the counter.


Soon enough, a mountain of Big Packs—three trays piled so high they looked like they might spill—was set down on the table. Mama Macaron, busy dabbing at my shirt, stared wide-eyed at the heap.


I reached for the first Big Pack, tore open the wrapper, and bit into it with a mouth like a Tasmanian devil.

The king of Queens beamed.


“Good. Beat Carbonara and become the king.”


I gobbled ten, then twenty.

Beside me, my older brother, Bread Junior, watched with worry.


“Donut. You sure you’re okay?”


Junior is eight years older than me and nothing like Dad. Even though he’s a college student, he goes out on rent collections in Dad’s place and gets conned into listening to pathetic sob stories, then comes home rolled up like putty. He’s supposed to be the heir, and it’s embarrassing.

Still—whenever I got pissed, Junior was the one who always listened.


“The music teacher doesn’t get rock at all. He makes us sing the most boring songs, so I sang that song like Elvis, full on, and the whole class went wild.”


“Nicely done. That’s our Donut.”


“But then they told me to sing in proper four-four time. I was gonna sock him, but that girl came out and started yelling that I cheated and all that. So—”


“Hey now, you didn’t hit a girl, did you?”


“No need. No matter what, I win.”


Junior gave a small laugh and mussed my hair.


“I’d rather protect than fight, myself.”


“I’ll win. No question.”


There was no way I could tell them I’d actually swung and taken a cross-counter that left me sprawled on the floor like an idiot.


Just thinking about it made my stomach turn.


Still, to win the fight I shoved another Big Pack into my mouth. If I could choke down 101 burgers, I’d have beaten myself. That moment of humiliation would be wiped clean.

I decided that, and I was taking on the challenge of 101 burgers.