"Delia...Delia...Delia?" Mum's voice echoed in the hallway.
I opened the door with my pinky finger as hard as I could because my other hand and 4 other fingers were occupied.
"Yeah, Ma?" I don't think she could hear me, since I haven't even opened my door yet.
I'm trying to.
And my finger twists the knob once more, before slipping away.
"AAARGH."
I try once more, but Mum beat me to it.
She opens the door mid-way, caught a glance at me and her mouth falls into a small 'O'.
"Your hair?" she questions.
"My hair is being curled," I answer.
She opens the door wider, "Why?" and drops the heap of laundry of basket on the floor. "You don't know how to curl it."
"Exactly!" I groaned. I had put these rollers, and it wouldn't stick and I'm trying to make it stay. I'm such a failure.
"What's wrong with your hair?" She pulls out the rollers in her hands one by one. "Curly is not good for you, it just doesn't suit."
Nothing does, Mum.
"Ma?"
"Mmm." She is still pulling. I put on a LOT of rollers, I thought it would make me more beautiful. For a girl's dream's sake, okay?
"I'm scared for tomorrow. No, not scared. Anxious. Not that, either. I feel fearful. For school."
She stops pulling the rollers and smiles her red full-lip smile, "Why? It's not like you've committed a crime you've to be ashamed of."
"Yeah, I know, but it's just that I know what's gonna happen to me. I'm not gonna have a breakthrough, and I think just everyone in the universe - I include Jupiter and Mars, too - knows that."
She walks into the bathroom and placed all the rollers back to where it belong while I stand there, glued to the floor, with my hair going upside down.
After a minute or so, she comes back, wiping her hands on her knees. "You know, the good thing about transferring school is, that you can start over. Be someone else. Because, nobody knows who you were before."
That is kinda true.
"But promise me this." she told me, grabbing a few piles of clothes from my dresser and dropping them into the basket.
"Depends."
"This is going to be easy," she confirmed, "Promise me, that in whatever circumstances, you'll be yourself."
*
The next morning, when the morning sun is leaking into my bedroom, I was rushing to get my things done.
My hair, as usual, is silky black. I'm Asian, deal with it.
Scratch silky. It's not silky, it's coarse.
I had no time to put a few drops of vinegar for my hair last night, as I was rushing to get to bed early to accomplish what I needed to do today.
Blow-dry my hair.
TRY to make it a little softer.
Run and get my clothes when I'm in my undies, get a full view of myself in the full mirror and stopped looking. I'm a B size, there you go.
Yanked the hanger out, lay it on the bed, and unhanger it. Get it on, and straighten it.
I'm wearing Levi's Jeans and a PA Top.
Combs my hair once more, put back the towel, curl my devilish and headstrong eyelashes and bolt out the bedroom door.
Rushes down for Honey Stars, slurps it down, grab my bag which I think is so awesome - gray and black, with a few compartments and a sweet texture -, greets BYE to all my family members -Dad, Maryam lil' sis and Mum. - and wait for the really irritating and slow bus to come around.
My heart is pounding as I walk to the bus stop, and I am not happy to spot people already there, in line.
That would mean they'd see me shaking for no apparent reason, and that I'll be pushed and jerked from every single one of them until I get the chance to actually get into the bus.
This is a new day, new school, new me.
*
I'm in the bus this instant, watching the outsides fade slowly behind and watching the sky turn brighter every minute.
These are things that are surreal in my everyday life. God's so creative, that he created every shade of color found in the sky, every single ray found in the sun and every single punch of cotton in those fluffy clouds.
"Girl in the backseat, your turn." That voice woke me from my thoughts as I stumbled out the bus, gripping every seat with my bag slung behind me, swishing like it was mad.
"Thanks, Ma'am." And I hand her a tip. She catches it like she's been doing for eternity, give me the hurry-up-or-not look and I drop down onto the gravel.
Nice lady she is.
Play the drumroll, please. Because right in front of me, dawns that imposing silver coated building with humongous letters that made out the word 'ZELCOSH HIGH SCHOOL', and it was only on the outside of the compound.
People were streaming in: Punks, Goths, Nerds, Hunks, Cheerleaders.
Ask me where I got those stereotype skills from?
Easy, I get stereotyped myself.
I couldn't even muster energy to walk as the bus drives away. Okay, breathe in, act normal, walk like a thug and let's do it.
And the inside of my head was booming was music when I walked into the humongous metal gate that opened wide for people to stream to.
The inside was more like a fantasy, the brilliant and vibrant colors, the cheerleading shouts and the basketball player's laughter, the cliques' chatters, and the teachers' shoes click-clacking away.
Nobody took notice of me, yet. The door before me stood up, like I was destined to show up in this, institution of education. (The word SCHOOL is too passe.)
I walked like a retard, slumping from side to side like this was the way to fit in. Walking in, the wind died down, and my hair was back to where it belong, after my shoulders.
I had put on gloss, too, so I shone my brightest teeth-ad-with-purple-braces smile like nobody's seen before, and go to the Office to get my locker keys.
Maybe I was being to odd, because people started walking past me, pointing me up and down with their sharp eyes and their mouths resisting the temptation to laugh.
Great, I just made my name.
The office were a few inches away from me, now.
Opening the golden knob that was a little rusty by now, the air-cond whooshes my hair again and my eyes batted hardly. Everyone individual in the office looks like they had a year of things to be done, so I'm guessing that there are more newcomers than me alone.
A few people were taking velvet seats across the desk, some sulking, some smiling, and some emotionless.
"Mary Becka." the desk woman called. The girl that was smiling walked out and makes eye contact with me. I immediately drops my smile because if she's smiling like I do, I must look pretty horrendous.
I took a seat, too.
Few minutes passed, and she called out my name.
The woman had curly hair and a sweet fragrance. Her brooch was shining and she introduced herself in a polite but too overcoming way, like what she's been doing from this morning till now.
"Good Morning, my name is Mrs. Glacier. I'll get you your locker key and a buddy to show you around." she informs, nodding her head a bit. She reaches out for the keys beside her and mutter, '780', then passes the small silver key with a blew pendant to me.
"Write your name," she said. "and your locker is next to Jennifer Dane's."
Jennifer Dane?
How the hey would I suppose to know who JENNIFER DANE is?
"She's the Class President for 3 years now. In a row." She answers me like she's read my mind. "Nice girl, she is."
I have this inner gut feeling that tells me otherwise.
I opened the door with my pinky finger as hard as I could because my other hand and 4 other fingers were occupied.
"Yeah, Ma?" I don't think she could hear me, since I haven't even opened my door yet.
I'm trying to.
And my finger twists the knob once more, before slipping away.
"AAARGH."
I try once more, but Mum beat me to it.
She opens the door mid-way, caught a glance at me and her mouth falls into a small 'O'.
"Your hair?" she questions.
"My hair is being curled," I answer.
She opens the door wider, "Why?" and drops the heap of laundry of basket on the floor. "You don't know how to curl it."
"Exactly!" I groaned. I had put these rollers, and it wouldn't stick and I'm trying to make it stay. I'm such a failure.
"What's wrong with your hair?" She pulls out the rollers in her hands one by one. "Curly is not good for you, it just doesn't suit."
Nothing does, Mum.
"Ma?"
"Mmm." She is still pulling. I put on a LOT of rollers, I thought it would make me more beautiful. For a girl's dream's sake, okay?
"I'm scared for tomorrow. No, not scared. Anxious. Not that, either. I feel fearful. For school."
She stops pulling the rollers and smiles her red full-lip smile, "Why? It's not like you've committed a crime you've to be ashamed of."
"Yeah, I know, but it's just that I know what's gonna happen to me. I'm not gonna have a breakthrough, and I think just everyone in the universe - I include Jupiter and Mars, too - knows that."
She walks into the bathroom and placed all the rollers back to where it belong while I stand there, glued to the floor, with my hair going upside down.
After a minute or so, she comes back, wiping her hands on her knees. "You know, the good thing about transferring school is, that you can start over. Be someone else. Because, nobody knows who you were before."
That is kinda true.
"But promise me this." she told me, grabbing a few piles of clothes from my dresser and dropping them into the basket.
"Depends."
"This is going to be easy," she confirmed, "Promise me, that in whatever circumstances, you'll be yourself."
*
The next morning, when the morning sun is leaking into my bedroom, I was rushing to get my things done.
My hair, as usual, is silky black. I'm Asian, deal with it.
Scratch silky. It's not silky, it's coarse.
I had no time to put a few drops of vinegar for my hair last night, as I was rushing to get to bed early to accomplish what I needed to do today.
Blow-dry my hair.
TRY to make it a little softer.
Run and get my clothes when I'm in my undies, get a full view of myself in the full mirror and stopped looking. I'm a B size, there you go.
Yanked the hanger out, lay it on the bed, and unhanger it. Get it on, and straighten it.
I'm wearing Levi's Jeans and a PA Top.
Combs my hair once more, put back the towel, curl my devilish and headstrong eyelashes and bolt out the bedroom door.
Rushes down for Honey Stars, slurps it down, grab my bag which I think is so awesome - gray and black, with a few compartments and a sweet texture -, greets BYE to all my family members -Dad, Maryam lil' sis and Mum. - and wait for the really irritating and slow bus to come around.
My heart is pounding as I walk to the bus stop, and I am not happy to spot people already there, in line.
That would mean they'd see me shaking for no apparent reason, and that I'll be pushed and jerked from every single one of them until I get the chance to actually get into the bus.
This is a new day, new school, new me.
*
I'm in the bus this instant, watching the outsides fade slowly behind and watching the sky turn brighter every minute.
These are things that are surreal in my everyday life. God's so creative, that he created every shade of color found in the sky, every single ray found in the sun and every single punch of cotton in those fluffy clouds.
"Girl in the backseat, your turn." That voice woke me from my thoughts as I stumbled out the bus, gripping every seat with my bag slung behind me, swishing like it was mad.
"Thanks, Ma'am." And I hand her a tip. She catches it like she's been doing for eternity, give me the hurry-up-or-not look and I drop down onto the gravel.
Nice lady she is.
Play the drumroll, please. Because right in front of me, dawns that imposing silver coated building with humongous letters that made out the word 'ZELCOSH HIGH SCHOOL', and it was only on the outside of the compound.
People were streaming in: Punks, Goths, Nerds, Hunks, Cheerleaders.
Ask me where I got those stereotype skills from?
Easy, I get stereotyped myself.
I couldn't even muster energy to walk as the bus drives away. Okay, breathe in, act normal, walk like a thug and let's do it.
And the inside of my head was booming was music when I walked into the humongous metal gate that opened wide for people to stream to.
The inside was more like a fantasy, the brilliant and vibrant colors, the cheerleading shouts and the basketball player's laughter, the cliques' chatters, and the teachers' shoes click-clacking away.
Nobody took notice of me, yet. The door before me stood up, like I was destined to show up in this, institution of education. (The word SCHOOL is too passe.)
I walked like a retard, slumping from side to side like this was the way to fit in. Walking in, the wind died down, and my hair was back to where it belong, after my shoulders.
I had put on gloss, too, so I shone my brightest teeth-ad-with-purple-braces smile like nobody's seen before, and go to the Office to get my locker keys.
Maybe I was being to odd, because people started walking past me, pointing me up and down with their sharp eyes and their mouths resisting the temptation to laugh.
Great, I just made my name.
The office were a few inches away from me, now.
Opening the golden knob that was a little rusty by now, the air-cond whooshes my hair again and my eyes batted hardly. Everyone individual in the office looks like they had a year of things to be done, so I'm guessing that there are more newcomers than me alone.
A few people were taking velvet seats across the desk, some sulking, some smiling, and some emotionless.
"Mary Becka." the desk woman called. The girl that was smiling walked out and makes eye contact with me. I immediately drops my smile because if she's smiling like I do, I must look pretty horrendous.
I took a seat, too.
Few minutes passed, and she called out my name.
The woman had curly hair and a sweet fragrance. Her brooch was shining and she introduced herself in a polite but too overcoming way, like what she's been doing from this morning till now.
"Good Morning, my name is Mrs. Glacier. I'll get you your locker key and a buddy to show you around." she informs, nodding her head a bit. She reaches out for the keys beside her and mutter, '780', then passes the small silver key with a blew pendant to me.
"Write your name," she said. "and your locker is next to Jennifer Dane's."
Jennifer Dane?
How the hey would I suppose to know who JENNIFER DANE is?
"She's the Class President for 3 years now. In a row." She answers me like she's read my mind. "Nice girl, she is."
I have this inner gut feeling that tells me otherwise.
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