Chapter 4

My mother is not the kind of parent who wants to know about my school or my results: She is the kind that will not even know the differences between Secondary School and Junior College, Polytechnic and University. To her, telling her whether I pass or fail will suffice.

When I told my mother of my Prelim results, she had just asked me if they were good. I said to get less than ten points for L1R5 was very good. She just sulked and cursed the education system for confusing her: “Sometimes, more points are better. Now, fewer points are better.” she had said.

I told her that I would be requesting to go to NYJC after my ‘O’ Levels. I was expecting her to ask me why go to NYJC when nearby JCs, like Pioneer Junior College or Jurong Junior College, were just a bus-ride away. But she did not and so I did not provide her with an answer. She just warned me that the journey would take more than one hour. What she did not know was that I had chosen NYJC for the long journey.

“How’s school?” When she asked me that, I rolled my eyes and narrowed them at her. I had never heard her ask that question before: It was like the word “school” was taboo to her.

“Okay.” I said.

She was sewing some red cloth. She worked freelance for a fabric company, sewing children’s clothes and adults’ dresses.

“Did you make new friends?”

I wondered if I should go to my room now or just sit on the sofa and be interrogated by her.

“No. Yes.” Weird. The last person I wanted to appear in my mind appeared in my mind.

“What’s her name?”

“Chew Ling?” I said. It sounded like a question.

“Good. Maybe it’s time, ah zheng, to move on. Step back into reality. Back to normal life.” When she said all that, her eyes were glued to the sewing machine.

“Step back into reality? Why not create my own reality instead?” I whispered so softly that she did not know I had replied to her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Although it was only the third day of school, my body’s biological clock had adjusted to waking up at five in the morning.

When I was at the bus stop at six, I was thinking about what my mother had told me yesterday. After our brief conversation in the living room, she had come to my room and advised me to seek Doctor Lee’s help again. If doctors can change another person’s thinking with just words and pills, then what is the difference between doctors and God?

“Hello.”

That familiar voice broke off my thoughts like how a glass shattered. When I turned, I could only remember Mrs. Tee’s words: Kick his balls.

This time, he was wearing a sleeveless grey shirt, tucked securely into his black pants. He held out a book. It was orange and white, the “Complete Idiot’s Guide” series book. “I like you. I want you to marry me, but mama said I should woo you first. So I borrowed this book from the library. I think it is written for me because many people call me idiot.”

I read the title of the book. It was “The Pocket Idiot's Guide to Getting Girls”. On the cover was a picture of a guy and a girl who were walking away.

“Hi.” he lowered his voice. “Here’s my name card.” he slotted his hand into his pocket and took out a piece of crumpled paper, the size of a credit card. “My name and my number. Maybe you can…” he stopped, opened the book and read for about ten seconds before looking back at me. “Maybe you can give me a call since we’re so destined to meet.”

I was counting my breaths to keep myself calm. When I took a step back, he took a step forward. I took two back. He took two forward.

Sick of the mask-

A taxi was turning into the road. The light on the top was green. My shrink once told me that in a situation, I would either fight or take flight. I could either fight; kick his balls, or I could take flight: Flag the taxi.

I drew my hand out and waved up and down.

The taxi ‘on’ its hazard lights and slowed down. I ran towards it. The guy followed me calmly.

“Get away from me!”

“My name card-”

“Fuck off!” I said. My first vulgar word of the year.

When the taxi came to a complete halt, I opened the door and jumped in. The guy had somehow ran next to the taxi. “My name card. Call me-”

I slammed the door shut. The guy managed to throw his “name card” into the taxi. “Uncle, Nanyang JC. Fast.”

“Your friend-”

“Go, uncle! Fast!”

I did not turn back to see if the guy was running after my cab. I reached to my feet and took the name card. It was just a piece of 80 gsm paper. The edges of the paper were torn by hand. Written on the centre of the paper were his name and his handphone number.

Zinc Ang. That is his name.

I balled the paper and threw it into my shoulder bag.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I was sweating throughout the whole journey in the taxi. The meter leaped ten cents every few seconds when we were on the expressway. I had already checked my wallet: I had only brought ten dollars to school and the meter was flashing “$15.90”.

I took out my handphone. It was only six-thirty in the morning and I pictured Chew Ling pushing the alarm clock snooze button, cursing the morning hours. She had once told me that her mother fetches her to school every morning, so she can leave home at about seven.

I found her number in my phonebook, thought what the hell and pushed the dial button.

“Morning, Kitty! I’ll take her order, no worries.” her voice rang.

“Hey, Chew Ling, are you at home now?”

“Hi madam. Can I have your order, please? Sure, we’ll serve your ice-cream soon.”

“Chew Ling?” I detached the phone from my ear and looked at the screen. It was Chew Ling’s number; not wrong. “Chew Ling, I’m Linda.”

“Oh. Linda. What, Linda?” Then she yawned and coughed into the phone. The speaker on my phone sounded like static for a while.

“Look Chew Ling, I need your help.”

“Oh. I just woke up, Linda.” An alarm clock’s ringing was played in the background, as if to highlight her point. “What help? Gosh. Follow-up table twenty, please. Station is calling.”

“Can you bring an extra twenty dollars and lend me when you reach school?”

The taxi driver looked at my reflection through the mirror and then diverted his eyes back to the road.

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