CHAPTER ONE
Friday, March 23, 6:30 AM
The metal seats are wet from heavy rain the night before and the stony floor is covered with grime. I pick my way to the cleanest spot of the bus stop before I stand still, arms across my chest.
Waiting.
Watching.
Someone comes to stand near me, shuffling his feet.
I ignore him coolly, eyes unwavering from the empty road.
It’s a while before I see the red and white bus rolling its way towards me, or us, if that boy means to ride the same bus. He sticks out a hand to hail the bus over, which is enough to signal that he does. I make sure to act as if he doesn’t exist; I become passive, expressionless, almost invisible.
I don’t want anyone to notice me.
I get on the bus, nearly losing my balance, killing my nearly flawless plan to go unnoticed.
The seat directly behind the driver has always been my favorite seat, and I’m drawn to it immediately. I balance my backpack on my knees and look out the window, but then the disturbance of a person taking the seat next to me craves my attention, and the scene outside the window becomes a mere background.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can finally see that he is about my age, definitely Asian, with short black hair and dark brown eyes. He is not in a uniform; he’s wearing a red shirt and jeans.
The bus is maneuvering around the traffic. We reach one, then two, bus stops. People mill their way in and out.
“Hello,” a voice wafts its way over to my ears.
I decide after a split second not to respond. Perhaps it isn’t me he’s trying to talk to. I am no one he knows.
He clears his throat casually. “Hello?”
I bite my lip, turn to him with a gaze that I think will frighten him away. There are plenty of other empty seats he could have taken. Nobody normally travels this early in the morning.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“I’m just being friendly,” he tells me defensively. “You don’t… look like you should be here. There’s school?”
“Holiday,” I explain and turn back to the view of the street. It’s the last day before Spring break, so I’m not really telling a lie.
The familiar condominiums and the trees lining the road whiz past. I feel as if I am leaving it all behind. Am I making the right decision? I tell myself adamantly that I am.
The boy beside me pipes up again, “Where are you going?”
For some reason, he doesn’t strike me as the typical Singaporean boy. Perhaps that’s also because I don’t normally talk to them unless I know them from a friend. “If you really want to know,” I say, hoping I sound overly obnoxious, “I’m running away.”
“How can someone as pretty as you run away?” he asks immediately.
I scrunch my eyebrows. I’m annoyed. Perplexed, but annoyed. Does he not get that I just want to be left alone? I’m happy about the compliment, but I roll my eyes. “You Singaporeans are so naïve,” I complain. “You think you just give a girl a compliment and she’ll immediately fall for you.” I look him in the eye, showing I’m not afraid. “That’s not how it works.”
“I’m just being truthful.”
Would nothing faze him? Had this boy been sent to me from the heavens—or from the hells, for that matter—to give me a hard time? This was supposed to be the biggest choice of my life. I could not have some stranger ruining it.
“If you’re being truthful, then so am I,” I say. “I want to be left alone.”
“Is that why you’re running away?”
His question is odd, a little bit personal, but it does make me think. Being alone… That was exactly what I didn’t want. So why was I doing this? “You should mind your own business,” I tell him firmly.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
But I only smile sweetly.
I turn away from him, hoping he got the message. Anybody else would have. There must be something wrong with him.
Yawning, I lean my head against the window, purposefully shifting to the edge of the seat, further away from the boy. I must have fallen asleep after midnight last night, when my friend made me listen to her cry about not having a date to prom.
Prom isn’t for another month or so, I had told her calmly. I think it took another half hour to convince her that all would be alright.
First world problems. They make me sick.
I’m not aware that my eyes are closed until I’m falling asleep against the cold window, suddenly unaware of my surroundings.
The same dream I have most nights starts to haunt my subconscious mind. I know I am dreaming but I am unable to control it. It was a warm, sunny day, typical of Los Angeles in June.
I have about a week of school left and I’m ecstatic about my family vacation. Mom and Dad always have the best things planned for my sister and I. And, my sister is graduating from elementary school, which means the vacation will be extra special.
It couldn’t be another drive down to Grandma and Grandpa’s. That was boring. Maybe we could finally go to Hawaii and see some dolphins!
I let these thoughts take up my mind for a few moments. It’s because of this that I don’t see Shelly standing with her arms crossed in an empty playground. She looks angry.
Shelly is the school bully. She bullies us third graders because she couldn’t pass third grade and had to take it again. She seems to like to bully me the most because my sister is in the fifth grade, but I don’t know the exact reason.
She suddenly calls out my name, “Ava!” She has a high-pitched voice for someone who likes to bully other people. “Come here! I wanna show you something!”
Nobody disobeys Shelly, but I freeze at the sound of her voice.
I’m scared because I’ve heard bad stories from my other classmates. They’ve all warned me that we should never be with Shelly alone.
The school is behind me and I always have to walk through this playground to get home. But now, Shelly is in the way.
I look down at the ground and try to pretend I didn’t hear her, even though I had already looked her in the eye. Shelly couldn’t catch up to me if I fast-walked back to the school. It would all be okay. I start to walk away.
My fear is at its maximum when I hear Shelly’s voice again from right behind me. “Ava, I just wanna be your friend,” she says.
I stop because I can hear the sincerity in her voice. Maybe I’m being a little bit mean to her. Maybe all the other kids are too mean to her, and that’s why she’s always bullying them.
When I turn around, I make sure I’m smiling. “Hi—“ I start.
I never get to finish.
My dream fast-forwards through the rest of the memory, the part I’ve buried for so many years. I watch everything happen at triple speed and I don’t do a thing. I can feel the pain, the punches, but nothing I do now can change anything.
Because even though it was real, this is a dream, and I can’t change it, no matter how much I want to.
Friday, March 23, 6:30 AM
The metal seats are wet from heavy rain the night before and the stony floor is covered with grime. I pick my way to the cleanest spot of the bus stop before I stand still, arms across my chest.
Waiting.
Watching.
Someone comes to stand near me, shuffling his feet.
I ignore him coolly, eyes unwavering from the empty road.
It’s a while before I see the red and white bus rolling its way towards me, or us, if that boy means to ride the same bus. He sticks out a hand to hail the bus over, which is enough to signal that he does. I make sure to act as if he doesn’t exist; I become passive, expressionless, almost invisible.
I don’t want anyone to notice me.
I get on the bus, nearly losing my balance, killing my nearly flawless plan to go unnoticed.
The seat directly behind the driver has always been my favorite seat, and I’m drawn to it immediately. I balance my backpack on my knees and look out the window, but then the disturbance of a person taking the seat next to me craves my attention, and the scene outside the window becomes a mere background.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can finally see that he is about my age, definitely Asian, with short black hair and dark brown eyes. He is not in a uniform; he’s wearing a red shirt and jeans.
The bus is maneuvering around the traffic. We reach one, then two, bus stops. People mill their way in and out.
“Hello,” a voice wafts its way over to my ears.
I decide after a split second not to respond. Perhaps it isn’t me he’s trying to talk to. I am no one he knows.
He clears his throat casually. “Hello?”
I bite my lip, turn to him with a gaze that I think will frighten him away. There are plenty of other empty seats he could have taken. Nobody normally travels this early in the morning.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“I’m just being friendly,” he tells me defensively. “You don’t… look like you should be here. There’s school?”
“Holiday,” I explain and turn back to the view of the street. It’s the last day before Spring break, so I’m not really telling a lie.
The familiar condominiums and the trees lining the road whiz past. I feel as if I am leaving it all behind. Am I making the right decision? I tell myself adamantly that I am.
The boy beside me pipes up again, “Where are you going?”
For some reason, he doesn’t strike me as the typical Singaporean boy. Perhaps that’s also because I don’t normally talk to them unless I know them from a friend. “If you really want to know,” I say, hoping I sound overly obnoxious, “I’m running away.”
“How can someone as pretty as you run away?” he asks immediately.
I scrunch my eyebrows. I’m annoyed. Perplexed, but annoyed. Does he not get that I just want to be left alone? I’m happy about the compliment, but I roll my eyes. “You Singaporeans are so naïve,” I complain. “You think you just give a girl a compliment and she’ll immediately fall for you.” I look him in the eye, showing I’m not afraid. “That’s not how it works.”
“I’m just being truthful.”
Would nothing faze him? Had this boy been sent to me from the heavens—or from the hells, for that matter—to give me a hard time? This was supposed to be the biggest choice of my life. I could not have some stranger ruining it.
“If you’re being truthful, then so am I,” I say. “I want to be left alone.”
“Is that why you’re running away?”
His question is odd, a little bit personal, but it does make me think. Being alone… That was exactly what I didn’t want. So why was I doing this? “You should mind your own business,” I tell him firmly.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
But I only smile sweetly.
I turn away from him, hoping he got the message. Anybody else would have. There must be something wrong with him.
Yawning, I lean my head against the window, purposefully shifting to the edge of the seat, further away from the boy. I must have fallen asleep after midnight last night, when my friend made me listen to her cry about not having a date to prom.
Prom isn’t for another month or so, I had told her calmly. I think it took another half hour to convince her that all would be alright.
First world problems. They make me sick.
I’m not aware that my eyes are closed until I’m falling asleep against the cold window, suddenly unaware of my surroundings.
The same dream I have most nights starts to haunt my subconscious mind. I know I am dreaming but I am unable to control it. It was a warm, sunny day, typical of Los Angeles in June.
I have about a week of school left and I’m ecstatic about my family vacation. Mom and Dad always have the best things planned for my sister and I. And, my sister is graduating from elementary school, which means the vacation will be extra special.
It couldn’t be another drive down to Grandma and Grandpa’s. That was boring. Maybe we could finally go to Hawaii and see some dolphins!
I let these thoughts take up my mind for a few moments. It’s because of this that I don’t see Shelly standing with her arms crossed in an empty playground. She looks angry.
Shelly is the school bully. She bullies us third graders because she couldn’t pass third grade and had to take it again. She seems to like to bully me the most because my sister is in the fifth grade, but I don’t know the exact reason.
She suddenly calls out my name, “Ava!” She has a high-pitched voice for someone who likes to bully other people. “Come here! I wanna show you something!”
Nobody disobeys Shelly, but I freeze at the sound of her voice.
I’m scared because I’ve heard bad stories from my other classmates. They’ve all warned me that we should never be with Shelly alone.
The school is behind me and I always have to walk through this playground to get home. But now, Shelly is in the way.
I look down at the ground and try to pretend I didn’t hear her, even though I had already looked her in the eye. Shelly couldn’t catch up to me if I fast-walked back to the school. It would all be okay. I start to walk away.
My fear is at its maximum when I hear Shelly’s voice again from right behind me. “Ava, I just wanna be your friend,” she says.
I stop because I can hear the sincerity in her voice. Maybe I’m being a little bit mean to her. Maybe all the other kids are too mean to her, and that’s why she’s always bullying them.
When I turn around, I make sure I’m smiling. “Hi—“ I start.
I never get to finish.
My dream fast-forwards through the rest of the memory, the part I’ve buried for so many years. I watch everything happen at triple speed and I don’t do a thing. I can feel the pain, the punches, but nothing I do now can change anything.
Because even though it was real, this is a dream, and I can’t change it, no matter how much I want to.