Chapter 3

I first met Landy in a “magical” way.

My father died when I was twelve. My mum blamed me for his death. Since then, I learnt about life the bad way: I hung out with a group of hooligans who smoked at stairways and got their pocket money from stealing. I always felt a great sense of satisfaction whenever we successfully shoplifted a few items.

One fateful day, we plotted to steal shoes again. Stealing shoes had always been a routine for us. Our targets were usually World of Sports, Royal Sporting House or Bata. Our plan had never failed before, until that day.

Three of us entered Royal Sporting House, wearing stern expressions. We pretended to browse around the clothes section, then, as we progressed to the shoes section, we showed signs of excitement by saying “This is nice!” or “I wonder if they’ve got size six for this pair or not?”

A sales assistant marched to us. He looked young, and we believed he was only a temp there. We smiled, knowing a temp was an easier target. “What size are you looking for, Mdm?”

I always felt proud to be called “Mdm” at the age of thirteen. My friend, Maggie, replied indifferently, “Do you have size six for this?” She showed the sales assistant a particular design. It cost a hundred bucks.

The sales assistant politely told us to wait and went off. Within the same minute, he came back with a pair. Maggie tried it on and it fitted her perfectly. However, she frowned and then looked up to the sales assistant with a seductive smile. “This feels too small. Do you have, like, size six and a quarter?”

We all howled in laughter. The sales assistant looked amused. He put on his smile and said, “How about size seven?”

“Will do!” Maggie chirped. “You go look for size seven. If there isn’t any I’ll take this one.” She began to trace the design of the shoe with her finger. The sales assistant hinted at her to take the shoe off but Maggie was totally immersed in appreciating the beauty of the shoe. Finally the sales assistant gave up and went off in search for size seven.

In one smooth motion, I took out a Royal Sporting House plastic bag from my bag. Maggie took off the shoe and threw it into the box. We glanced around the busy shop. When we confirmed it was safe, we placed the shoebox into the plastic bag and I strolled out of the shop, feeling victorious.

No one came forward to stop me. The alarm did not ring. After all, how could anyone steal a pair of shoes? They were all supposed to be stacked neatly in the storeroom. When I was out of the shop, I pictured Maggie and the sales assistant quarreling in my mind. Maggie would not lose; after all, customers are always right. I could only pity the poor sales assistant who must be wondering if he did place the size six shoes back in the storeroom. He might even consider quitting his job.

While I was lost in my thoughts, someone tapped my shoulder. A pretty girl with shiny long hair smiled at me and said, “Put that pair of shoes down. They’re coming to get you.”

I studied her. She looked a little older than me and had the kind of features that any teenager would envy. Her eyes were as round as her eyeballs and the dimples on her cheeks were deeply curved to perfection. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded.

“Trust me. That sales assistant is the supervisor, not a temp. He has met all sorts of people. He’s coming for you. Drop it, or you’ll regret it forever!”

I stared at her. She seemed to know everything. After an internal debate, I decided to trust her and threw the shoes into a rubbish bin. A few minutes later, to my surprise, the sales assistant, together with two security officers, came up and apprehended me. When they found nothing on me, they gave up and I let out a long sigh of relief. It was my closest encounter with a criminal record.

After that dreadful incident, the girl showed up at my house. I had no idea how she obtained my address. We chatted a little. I later knew her to be Landy. As time went by, we became good friends. She was older than me by four years and was working full-time as a clerk. My mum died when I was fourteen and I cut off links with all my friends save Landy.

Somehow or other, Landy stayed with me through thick and thin. Knowing that I disliked going out, she came to my house to chat with me instead. If there was only one blessing in my life, it was definitely having a friend like Landy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was so ironically hilarious when we realized our play lasted only five minutes if we suffered no NG. Our play was supposed to be “ten to fifteen” minutes long.

“Look, I think we’ll have to rewrite the script.” Our so-called director, Delvin, suggested. He was one of our classmates with the most outstanding leadership qualities. “I’m open to all ideas.”

We ransacked our minds and a few ideas were proposed but none of them seemed to work. Amid the mood of depression which had descended over the room, Jacky stood up and told us, “Trust Joanna and me. We’ll be able to prolong it with our acting. Won’t we, Joanna?”

I sank deeper into my chair and pondered. What did he mean by that? He was smiling at me again. I felt my hair standing up. What was he thinking now? I bit my teeth, hoping that he would not suggest some outrageous proposal that would embarrass both of us.

“It’ll be a lot more realistic if we act out the play without directly following the script. For example, if the audience laughs, we’ll extend the humorous scene. If the audience is crying, we’ll extend the sad scene. Of course, that would mean we’d have to add our own lines to the play. You understand?”

After some brainstorming, they all agreed to that idea. I wanted so much to debate, to confess my disagreement, but upon seeing their exhausted faces, I consented. After we were dismissed, we all headed in different directions except Jacky and me. We stayed together as I wanted to confront him about the idea.

“Why propose that stupid idea?” I probed.

“For fun, Joanna! For fun! And for authenticity! Don’t you think the whole play will look a lot more realistic if we don’t follow a script? I mean-”

“You won’t understand! I need to follow a script! I can’t… I can’t talk well. I… I’m afraid I will say the wrong thing and…” I choked on my words and halted.

“Tell me what’s stopping you from opening your heart, Joanna. Please.”

I was shaking softly. His warm hands embraced my shoulders and he lowered his voice. “Please tell me more about yourself. Why you’re keeping everything to yourself. Why you’re living in your own world. Please.”

“Get away!” I pushed him off, my face burning red. After I had taken a few steps back, my cell phone rang. It was Landy. I rejected the call and turned back at Jacky. “You won’t be able to help me! No one can! No one!”

“Let me help you, please! Believe me! You won’t fail if you keep trying!”

“No! You can’t, you’ll never! I’m going to withdraw from that fucking play, and you and your fucking good friends can be Juliet!”

“Joanna-”

“I killed my father, my mother and many other people! I’m a fucking murderer, a fucking killer, a fucking sinner!”

I turned and dashed out of the hall. The moment I was outside the school, I raised my hand and a taxi stopped. I let out a soft moan of despair before I swung open the door and went off in search of respite.

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