“Is there anything else you needed?” I asked my mother.
“You have school tomorrow. What are the classes?”
“For tomorrow I have Creative Writing, Geometry, and English.”
“Only three? I thought the school day had four classes.”
“I have a spare in between.”
“What other courses are you taking?”
“Why are you asking me? You and Appa are the ones that picked my courses for me. You should know.”
She looked at me with a disapproving stare. She didn’t have to say a word to warn me to watch what I said to her.
Part of me wanted to poke at her to see how far I could go. But I had endured years of being hit — with a hand, a book, whatever was close at hand — for disobeying even the slightest thing. I decided I’d rather not go to school the next day with any red marks on my body. With a resigned sigh, I told her, “Biology, Law, Accounting, and then another spare.”
“I still don’t know why you need to take Creative Writing on top of English,” she grumbled. “Other more serious courses would have been far better. Chemistry would have been better.” She pursed her lips as she thought of the time I was “wasting” on writing.
“It’s an easy A, Amma. And improving my writing skills will always be useful with my other studies.”
She shrugged and nodded. But I could tell she didn’t really accept my reasons. “Okay go to bed early. Appa will drop you.” And with that she left the room, closing my bedroom door behind her.
I glared at the door a few more seconds before I gave up being angry. With a sigh I got ready for bed. I lay in the dark room, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. I looked up at the ceiling and wondered why I couldn’t just accept what my parents were trying to tell me. It would make life easier, and maybe I’d be happier. But the more I tried to, the more I felt like a trapped animal scrambling for freedom.
I thought about Prema. I felt sorry for her. If she was anything like me, she didn’t need or deserve the judgement. Her mysterious guy could have just been a friend or classmate, or even a stranger asking for directions. But I knew South Asians, they loved to twist the truth for entertainment. It offered a chance for good gossip at the expense of another person’s reputation.
As I drifted off to sleep, my last thought was a passionate but hopeless wish that I had been born into a different life.
***
I sat by my locker, drumming a pencil against the notebook I had on my lap. I was looking for inspiration but nothing came. My father had dropped me at school a half an hour too early. Unsure how else to occupy my time, I plopped myself on the floor and tried to doodle. I was bored after making a few strokes, and was left watching students walk by. There was a feeling of excitement as students reunited with their friends after the summer. The chatter of gossip, and stories of summer adventures, slowly grew as the clock counted down to the first bell of the school year. I heard shrieks of excitement and laughter. I could easily tell who were the newbies just entering the big, bad world of high school. The seniors were striding the halls with confidence. It was as if entering the final year was proof of their ability to conquer the world. I felt a pang of envy, wishing that I shared in that confidence. Instead, I felt more like a puppet caught up in strings other people were holding.
My eyes caught sight of a boy and girl hugging each other near the end of the hall. They were brown, or South Asian, and I knew the girl was Tamil. By the looks of it, they hadn’t seen each other the whole summer. The girl was in a few of my classes last year. I recalled hearing that her parents almost never allowed her to leave the house unless they, or one of her siblings, were with her. But her parents couldn’t keep her from school, and here she was — with a boy. They looked like there was no one in the world apart from each other. I felt a small smile of approval cross my face. What would it be like to feel so close to another person that anyone could tell by looking at you? I found myself wishing I knew what it was like to feel the arms of a boy wrap around me.
Not just any boy, either. My thoughts drifted to Todd Miller. I felt warmth fill my heart as an image of my long-time crush filled my head. Where other girls gossiped and gasped at pictures of celebrities, my daydreams were filled with Todd. The first time I saw him, it was in grade nine Art. He was tall with an athletic build, but what struck me most were his warm brown eyes. He was a star on the soccer team, as well as one of the smartest kids in school — beauty and brains. Despite all that, he seemed humble. He had a charm that could make any girl blush, but seemed not to be aware of his effect on other people. That’s what got me curious about him at first. Although Todd had been in a few of the same classes as I was, we never exchanged more than a few words. That was mostly due to my shyness, but he was warm and respectful to me anyway. My feelings for him had deepened as I saw his kindness during the tsunami that had hit Southeast Asia. Todd had spearheaded a fundraising effort to collect money to give to charities helping the affected countries. His caring attitude spread as he used his contacts in sports and social activities to make others aware of how they could help. Todd was different from any boy I had ever seen, white or brown, and he made my heart melt.
Suddenly eager to see him, my eyes searched the bustling hallway as I began gathering my books. I made my way to Creative Writing, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. As my classroom got closer, I stifled my disappointment at not being able to start my school day with the sight of Todd.
It was as if the universe decided to answer my wish, and more. I entered the classroom and stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of Todd sitting in the front corner desk. I quickly took a step back to check the number on the door and make sure I had the right classroom. When I saw that I did, I slowly walked all the way in. There was an empty seat right next to Todd. I pushed any doubts out of my mind and boldly decided to take it. As I tried to get comfortable in my seat, I couldn’t help but glance Todd’s way. To my surprise, I saw that he was looking at me, smiling as our eyes met. My heart was thudding, but I somehow managed to give him a half-smile before quickly looking away. I pretended to focus on the book in front of me.
Students were still pouring in and a few minutes later the bell rang. I could hear the sound of other kids chattering as they prepared for class. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet. I took a quick look around and realized the class wasn’t as full as I had thought it would be. There were only around fifteen students, and I was glad for the small class size. If we were going to be doing presentations, my anxiety level would be better if the classroom wasn’t filled. I reached into my bag and took out my notebook. Then, with another quick glance at Todd, I turned my attention to the front of the room, waiting for class to start.