In high school, my impression of girls was almost blank. Boys played together, and girls played together. There was a line dividing the whole class into two worlds. I was the only boy in the class who was fortunate enough to be at the same desk as a girl. No one wanted to mention the reason behind this. My deskmate was Yalan Bai. She and I had been in the same class since high school. We started in another class, but a dramatic event caused it to dissolve, and we were assigned to the current class as transfer students.
The existence of her and me, and our extra desk, seemed out of tune with everything in the class as if deliberately reminding people of a bitter past.
Although Yalan and I were at the same desk and were close at hand, we rarely interacted. Occasional greetings between us were shared, and our classmates often laughed. The desk was engraved with a deep central line by the former students. She and I were divided. I did not think she was any different from the other girls in the class, other than noticing that her bangs were slightly curly.
That was the case in those days. The forbidden world was everywhere.
On the day I graduated from high school, many parents gathered early outside the school's courtyard walls, and they cried and asked the school to return their children. The police invited them to the auditorium. Our graduation ceremony was not held on the playground as initially planned but in the classroom. The school principal, serving as a military representative, did not come to speak, and there was no music or singing.
On behalf of the school, the headteacher presented the diplomas and gave us some encouraging words. The remaining dozens of undistributed diplomas were still in the cardboard boxes on the podium. They constantly beat with the wind blowing in from the window, and the headteacher used one hand to hold them from time to time.
On the striped walls of the classroom, there were still posted the compositions of those students who failed to come to receive their diplomas, as a souvenir for them, with the words: "I am a dandelion", "I am the screw of the revolution."
The headteacher finally said with emotion: "Students, you have officially graduated!" She put her hands on her chest, tears in her eyes, and the graduation certificates in the carton seemed to be spiritual as they flew up in the classroom. They spun around. The headteacher covered the box and looked at the flying papers in panic. The classmates by the window quickly closed all the windows. We picked up the diplomas on the ground and quietly put them back into the box.
The headteacher held the box tightly and left the classroom. We looked at the giant characters on the blackboard, "Broad World, Great Expectations," and after looking at each other for a long time, we realized that we were free and about to go our separate ways and start our journey. The journey of life.
We all walked out of the classroom. The girls gathered together, and the boys gathered together. The two worlds looked at each other, both wanting to say and do something. Under the palm trees, I suddenly found many beautiful and charming girls in the class in the rippling sun and breeze. I had no idea why I hadn't seen it before. Maybe they were dressed too beautifully on this day, and many of them wore their ethnic costumes to show off their appearance. Maybe their faces had less cover-up and more of their true colors. And my deskmate, Yalan, was the most beautiful of them all! I didn't know when she had turned into a butterfly, with a proud chest and a charming face.
I burst into inspiration and shouted: "Let's play a game!" Everyone responded gleefully, throwing their school bags in the corner of the wall.
I don't remember the name of the game we played at that time. I just remember that we were chasing and frolicking in the palm grove. Boys chased girls, girls chased boys, and the frolic spread all over the campus. In my eyes, the only person in focus was my deskmate Yalan, running with two coconuts flying on her chest.
I finally had a chance to chase after her. She nimbly interspersed among the classmates and dodged behind the trees, teasing me as she made funny faces from time to time. I didn't want to grab her too quickly. I wanted her to run around a little longer and liked how she flashed around in front of me. But soon, the male classmates started laughing at me, and someone pushed me and stumped me. I had to chase after her, waving my hand to grab her arm, but she suddenly turned around, and my hand scratched her chest. Her buttons flew off, her flesh-colored bra exposed, and then she slapped me loudly, calling me a hooligan.
The male classmates gathered around, shoved me, and scolded me, calling me a bastard, which ruined everyone's good mood. The female classmates hugged Yalan, helped her cover her breasts, built a barrier, and listened to her cry. Immediately, the palm forest was covered with dark clouds, and I noticed that the sun was fading. This mistake of mine made me the target of all.
A little later, our class monitor came over. She grabbed my arm and sleeve and said to everyone: "I'll ask him to plead guilty to this. Let's go." She dragged me into the classroom and whispered: "I saw it; it was an accident. You hide in the classroom for a while, and I'll go out and have a look." Before leaving the room, she smiled at me and said, "Everyone will remember you, you rascal, for the rest of their lives."
It gradually became quiet outside, and the students dispersed in disappointment.
I felt so guilty that I sat alone at my desk. I thought I didn't do it on purpose, but I wondered if I might have wanted to subconsciously. Every time I went to the school cafeteria, I remembered that I had to pass the school's pigsty, and I often saw a couple busy by the pigs' electric food mixer. I always had the urge to press the switch. Finally, a catastrophe struck one day, and the husband's arm was pierced. I didn't press the button. It was his wife. Did she not hold back the urge?
The headteacher came back to check the classroom and was about to lock the door. She was surprised to find that I was still in the room. She saw the tears on my face and asked me what was wrong. I said it was the dust, and she asked me to go to the office with her. On the way, she told me, "Xiaofeng Tang, among these kids, you are the best at studies. No matter what happens in the future, don't forget your books." I still remember her warm words, weak figure, and kind smile. One time, another classmate and I went to a family's backyard to steal papayas. Just as our bamboo poles struck a couple, an old lady came out of the house and chased us - we fled quickly! We later realized it was the headteacher's house that we stole from, but she did not punish us.