The class is discussing something about poetry, about how moonlight signifies something more important than the man would ever know. Personally, I thought, it doesn't really matter how people understand it. Literature is outright weird. Like when the author describes "she ate the pizza", people should never over-complicate the symbolism of the woman or the pizza.
Although nothing is making sense, I still prefer to sit in Chinese Literature class than having a lunch break. For life in school is awfully lonely and exhausting. Maths class is outright torturous.
In a class of thirty or so students, I sit in the back row of the left corner. Other people always call it a "prestigious elite class" I say it's rather "emotionally torturous" for I never got along with any of my classmates. Mom said I developed a sense of ignorance recently, and I attribute it to my defence mechanism in this social circle.
The air-conditioning cools the summer air as the perfume spray lightens the atmosphere with a faint smell of fresh lemons. The smooth floor is covered with polish, reflecting the light through the marbles. At the end of the room, a door leads to a resting area and two restrooms one for the guys and one for the girls. After sports my classmates have the benefit of a warm and private shower. Privacy, the symbol of the rich.
I am an outcast. Although I am in this class, I refuse to put up with the pretentiousness of others. So I am out of their social circle. Sometimes they act as if I am invisible, other times I am at the bottom of the ecosystem. Bullying, gossiping, being taken advantage of, these are just some of the things I have to put up with daily.
The bell rings. It is 14:00. Getting up to my locker, I stretch my back and legs. My classmates are still working on their assignment for geography as they discuss the questions openly. Unwilling to cut through the two girls standing in front, I find my way to the locker by walking in the anti-clockwise direction to the front door. I pick up my school bag and clarinet bag from the lockers, and sign the attendance sheet hanging on the back door to the classroom.
Even though there will be classes going on till 17:00, I have orchestra band practice, so I will never attend the last few periods of school. I am very thankful for having a legitimate reason for my absence. Afterall, sitting in that classroom itself makes it hard for me to breathe. People are judgemental. And it seems that they enjoy preying on the least relevant person from their life.
The band room rests in the Southern building. It is a replication of the auditorium, only much smaller. There are only four rows available in the audience seats. Some of the members are already there and they wave at me invitingly.
"Hey, Jess." Emma is scrolling through the news when she sees me, "Have you practiced for your part yet?"
"Um, actually I did, but the middle part is a bit tricky." I scratch my head nervously, "What about you? Flutes have quite some parts I see."
"Yeah."
More students reach the practice room and are tuning their instruments already. To me, the orchestra routine is a little heavy, but still manageable. It serves as a refreshment from the other parts of my school life.
The practice finally ended at 16:30, a little later than usual. It's concerning, since I have a part time job at 17:00.
After school, I work at a convenience store around the Bund till much later at night. Just some common stuff, cashier-ing, cleaning, restocking, customer service. Nothing too much that a 13 year-old me can't handle. And it is not like I hate the work there, it is actually fun. I get to see lots of people everyday, greeting them and giving them some background story at the back of my head.
I love and hate people at the same time. Sometimes they can be fun to interact with, making me feel alive and full of energy. At other times, it is just overwhelming, when there is a sense of awkwardness in between.