Chapter 1

There are usually different emotions embedded in different students when they start their first day of school: Some look forward to it, some cannot wait for the school holidays to come, some sulk when they think about it, some smile when they receive the name of their Orientation Group.

For me, it was none of the above.

Everyone in my apartment was still sleeping when I stepped out of the door. It was six in the morning. There were about five people at the bus stop, all reading newspapers.

“Hello.”

It was a male and robust voice. His grey replica Calvin Klein t-shirt was tucked firmly into his tight jeans, looking like some nerd who had never bought any clothes for the last three years.

Oh shit. Start acting now. Get away from me…

I jumped back. My Puma shoulder bag almost dropped. I opened my mouth, closed it and stepped two steps back. Three. Four. Five.

Get away from me…

“Hello.” he said again, droplets of his saliva shooting out like small bullets.

He had a round and flat face that looked thirty, but a fashion sense that looked ten. I took one more step back and my feet squished on the grass. He advanced towards me.

“You are very beautiful.” he said. Every word from him seemed to discharge a new wave of saliva. “Can I marry you?”

That is it-

I wheeled, grabbed the handle of my shoulder bag and ran. That was another function of River Valley High School’s uniform that I just discovered: It made us run faster as the skirt was loose, allowing our legs to open wider. There was no fear of my skirt dropping; after all, the skirt is the top.

I forgot how long I ran. It was only when I dropped my shoulder bag that I stopped running. I turned and darted my view cautiously. The man did not give chase. Then, I looked around me. Bukit Batok MRT Station was just across the road.

I poked my head into my bag. Nothing was broken. After taking in deep breaths to stop myself from panting, I strolled towards the MRT Station and peeked at my watch. I had ran for about five minutes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Hello.”

I was at the platform, waiting for the train when the voice came. I wheeled. Stared. The train came. People were walking towards the yellow line. I stared.

“Is it faster to run to the MRT Station than taking the bus?” he said.

I continued to stare at him. All the people on the platform were streaming into the train. My feet were still rooted to the floor.

“I ran before. Took six minutes to run from the bus stop to here. You, Sunny?”

The train stayed at the platform for about five seconds and then the announcer said: “Doors Closing” and beeped five times.

“Don’t you want to take the MRT?”

Freak it- now!

I screamed. I screamed at the top of my voice, my mouth so wide opened that my jaws nearly cracked. I forgot how long I had screamed. All I knew was that when I had stopped screaming, the guy was gone and about tens of worried-looking people were crowding around me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I had never been to Nanyang Junior College before. The assembly area was a pool of rainbow: the students were all wearing their Secondary School uniforms, as this was just the first three months of their Junior College. If we get good ‘O’ Levels results and wish to continue studying in this College, then we will purchase our uniforms.

The uniforms separated the JC1s from the JC2s. The JC2 female students wore skin-like brown shirt and skirt. I rubbed my nose and realized I was a different league from most of the JC1 students. Most of them came in pairs or in a group. They would crowd around an area, people-watching and gossiping.

The JC1s were supposed to gather at the Hall. I found my Orientation Group and took a fleeting glance at the students in my group. They all looked “up-market”: Five had Crumpler bags and two had Oakley glasses.

I sat behind a girl who had her hair tied up completely to her back, her receding forehead fully exposed to air. She was so small-sized that I thought she was a primary school student. She turned, saw me and smiled.

“Hi.” she said. She was wearing an oversized blue shirt and a grey tie.

I thought for a while. Cedar Girls’ Secondary School. One of the famous girls’ schools in Singapore. I managed to force out a smile.

“I’m Tan Chew Ling.” she said, turned away and coughed three times. There was a foreign accent to her tone, one that I often hear on local radio stations and American television serials. “I’ve got this asthma since young, so I cough often. But don’t you worry, it’s not contagious. How about you? What’s your name?”

Poser.

“Linda.” I replied, looked around me and at my watch. It was only seven in the morning.

“I see. We’ll be good friends, okay? I’ve made a promise to myself: Whoever sits behind me on this first day of school will be my best friend. Hey, you looked like you’ve just ran a thousand miles.” she said and coughed again. I almost jumped up in shock when I saw her bag: It was a red and black sling bag bearing the logo “NDP 2006”. The bag is almost the same size as her if she curves herself into a ball.

I wiped my neck. Although my sweats had dried up in the train, they seemed to come back after I reached the College.

“I go for morning jogs every morning.”

“Oh. Healthy. I like morning jogs too. But I’ve got bad lungs and this asthma.” she turned and faced me; she sounded like she was breathing in mucus instead of air. “You know, if you jog in the morning, your metabolism rate will increase. Plus, if you had caffeine intake, like coffee, your metabolism rate will be so high after your jog that you’ll burn double the fats when you move an inch. I think that explains why you’re sweating even when you’re not exercising now: Your metabolism rate is extremely high. Which I think is pretty cool…”

She went on and on for twenty minutes just to tell me how healthy jogging is. I really regretted telling her about my “jog” because even after the teacher - tutor - had came to the stage to talk to us, this Tan Chew Ling was still telling me about the benefits of jogging.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chew Ling followed me wherever I went and that was when I realized that we had something in common: We did not have any friends in this College. There were quite a number of Cedar girls around but they seemed foreign to Chew Ling, although Chew Ling smiled to every one of them. Actually, Chew Ling smiled to everyone in school.

When we stood side-by-side, her forehead pointed horizontally towards my neck and I estimated her to be less than thirty kilogrammes. She had to be the smallest JC student I had ever seen in my life. If not for her Cedar uniform, I would have thought that she is a primary school student who has not passed puberty.

“Caffeine helps burn fats. That is actually a myth but it is more or less true. I’m not going to explain in detail why because it will take forever.” Chew Ling was saying. “One of my friends said that she drinks five cups of coffee a day but she’s still so fat. Why? She takes them all with a lot of condensed milk! Come on, how can someone eat fried chicken everyday and run everyday and thinks that she is trying to lose weight, right?”

Our Orientation Group Leader – OGL – consisted of two JC2 students: One guy with over-baked skin and oversized biceps and a girl who looked malnourished. They seemed to talk non-stop; telling us about the history of the JC, the haunted areas and lecturers who had bad breaths.

“Okay, Linda, I think we should concentrate on the orientation games. You should not talk to me anymore; I need to concentrate on the games.”

Huh?

When we played the first game, I felt like an adult strolling inside Toys ‘R’ Us. All my OG mates shouted and ran, ran and shouted while I walked and stared.

“Hey.” Chew Ling whispered. I turned to her. I thought she said she was not talking anymore? “The OGL is cute.”

I looked up. It was our male OGL, the one who had biceps that seemed to be pumped by air.

“Tell you a secret, Chew Ling.” I said. “I think I saw him stealing looks at you a few times.”

“Really?” Chew Ling stroked her hair. “It happens all the time.” She then pushed her glasses up her nose and crafted a curvy smile. “In fact, Linda, I think almost half the group’s male students are stealing glances at me. I’m used to it.”

I nodded.

“Five weeks ago at Junction 8, someone asked for my telephone number. He started by asking me if I was a student or working. I tried to sway the question away. I was so reluctant to give him my number, you know. In the end, I gave it to him seeing how sincere he was. Guess what? He called me the next day! Asked me out.”

I nodded again.

“Guess what? I said, “No, I’m not free”. He then asked me if I was working and whether I had savings, insurance… I knew right from the start that he was so interested in me that he wanted to know so much about me. But still, I rejected him.” Chew Ling looked up at Mr. Biceps, then back at me. “Holy ant, Linda, I think you should stop asking me so many questions. I want to concentrate on the games. Our OGL is checking me out again.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It happened again after our second game. Our OGLs decided to give us a break and we crowded around the canteen.

“Guys are so shy nowadays.” Chew Ling said. She was not looking at anyone and I wondered if she was talking to me. “Everyone seems to look at me just now but now that we can talk freely, no one comes and talk to me.”

I lowered my head and opened my bag. I did not know when the break will end; with the free time, I might as well listen to some songs. When I found my iPod, a male voice roared above me.

“Hey, River Valley High, right?”

I glanced up. The guy was wearing a light brown uniform with a spiky hairstyle that looked like a durian. He had a dotted goatee on his chin. I gasped and dropped my iPod back into my bag.

“I’ve got a friend there. You know who Hwee Meng is?”

Should I shout?

I shook my head and started to look for Chew Ling. For the first time since I met Chew Ling, I was longing to hear her voice.

Post-traumatic stress disorder. Fear.

“You okay?” the durian-haired guy said. I shook my head and then nodded my head. Swallowed. Nodded. Fine. No.

“Hey-” Durian guy touched my shoulder.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

-started with a touch in the hand, - memories, embedded invented memories - and a voice “Dar, please…” –

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I screamed.

I yelled “Chew Ling!” at the top of my voice. The touch went off, the memory jogged off and I continued to scream until I felt a burning sensation in my throat.

When I stopped, the only sound that could be heard was the flipping of the fan. Everyone was looking at me: The up-market students, the nerds, the weirdos. Chew Ling’s mouth was wide open.

“Erm, Linda, if you miss me, you could have just… called me. In your normal voice.” Chew Ling said. I sprinted towards the toilet. I had counted my steps and it was on my twenty-first step that my tears came.

Artificial tears.

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