With a heavy heart, I exhale a long, tired breath and try to hold back tears that threaten to spill over. As I hold the paper in my trembling hand, it feels light as a feather, yet it weighs heavily on my mind. I keep poring over the essay, scanning every word and every sentence, trying to pinpoint where I went wrong. She gave me a copy of it but only after I had begged her to.
She made me promise to tell her what was wrong with it before she would hand it over. But when I couldn't give her an answer, she simply handed it to me, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my self-doubt.
When I asked her, Mrs Freon stated that my essay wouldn't be a determining factor in my admission to the University of Oxford. However, I am sceptical as I believe it would have played a role in the decision-making process. When I asked her if the Skittles incident would affect my chances, she again denied it being a factor in the admission decision. However, I am not convinced as I believe it would have also contributed.
Then she mentioned that the University of Oxford has specific criteria for selecting their students.
After that was out of her mouth, I immediately zoned out completely. She was probably saying other things to comfort me, but all I could think about was that I wasn't good enough. That I was not the type of student that they were looking for and I did not meet the specific criteria to get selected to join their institution.
What do I lack that the other person doesn't?
Is it because I dedicate my time to my school work instead of going out on the weekends? Was I supposed to party every other night like how Jodie encouraged me to? Even though Amma would never allow it.
Looking down at the paper yet again, I frown angrily.
It's just not fair. I did not know that we had to party on weekends to get into this school. If someone had told me this, I would have convinced my mum to let me go out every other weekend. I wouldn't have stayed in and studied my arse off to get into the tertiary institution of my dreams.
Tired of looking at the invisible rejected stamp that my mind forms on the paper, I scrunch it up in my palm and throw it away. Bowing my head down into my chest, I force myself not to cry.
"Oi."
I glance up at the new voice, wiping away my sniffling.
"If you did not notice, this is a no littering zone. Oxford is a clean school and I would like for it to be kept clean. Capiche?"
She tosses my scrunched up paper on my lap with a stiff smile.
"Oh, I… I was gonna pick it up. I swear."
"Sure you were."
She hovers over me, her dark red locks cascading down around her flawless pale-skinned face.
Her emerald green eyes peer down at me, making me feel both intimidated and mesmerised at the same time. She is wearing a pink shirt that shows off her curves, with the first two buttons undone, revealing just a hint of her cleavage. Her black shorts have zips on both sides, accentuating her slim figure. To complete the look, she is wearing black knee-high boots that look both stylish and comfortable.
Looking at her, I cannot help but feel insecure about my appearance. Compared to her, I probably look like a complete mess.
"Are you a freshman? I've never seen you here."
"Oh, no… I—"
"Don't worry," she cuts me off while crossing her arms. "We don't do the whole hazing initiation thing anymore. I managed to get it banned from the school altogether."
"Really?"
She shakes her head, yes. "The older kids were taking it a bit too far. What with them having power and authority over the saplings."
"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."
She remains quiet after that and just tilts her head to the side, examining me. I squirm nervously under her intense gaze. My hands go up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. Is she criticising my outfit? Does she not feel how cold it is or is she so used to the cold that she doesn't even feel the frost nipping at her skin?
"I love your trousers. They're adorable."
"Uh… thanks." I smile a little, peeking down at my blue-black trousers. "They're from the kid's section."
"Oh." She scowls in confusion.
"No, they're not. That… was a joke, because I'm so lanky. It was a bad joke, a very bad one."
She squints down at me in bemusement and with a little bit of heat staining the tips of my ears, I chuckle a little and her lips purse at my reaction. "You know, you remind me of one of my friends."
"Is that a good thing?"
"Of course," she mutters dismissively. "Anyway, do you want me to show you around the place? Get you accustomed to the school before you have to come here and study?"
"Oh, actually, I'm not—"
"Hey, I'm not taking no for an answer. We have so many student organisations. You should join one."
As soon as I start to express my doubts about coming to the school, she takes my hand and pulls me along. I can hardly keep up with her as we walk deeper into the school, but I soon learn that she is just trying to show me around and make me feel more comfortable.
She introduces herself properly as Sabina, and I can tell from her friendly smile that she is a genuine person. I can't help but think her name sounds familiar. I mention that Kristen Stewart's character in Charlie's Angels is named Sabina, and she laughs, saying that she's heard that comparison many times before.
Despite my initial hesitations, I can feel myself starting to relax as she keeps up a steady stream of conversation.
We go into one of the classrooms and it's empty. She starts talking about the history and lectures which are taught in this particular classroom, but I barely take in any of her words. All I can see is myself sitting on one of those chairs listening to a lecture.
Next, we head to the campus. She first introduces me to one of her friends. Her name is Jasmine. She is the polar opposite of Sabina. For one, she's dressed in a thick jacket with tracksuit trousers and some boots. We get to talk to her for a bit before she has to go home for Christmas break.
Turns out she's doing the same course as I am planning on doing in the future, Psychiatry. Sabina shows me where the student activities and organisations are and she even names most of them. The ones I'm most interested in are the Taiwanese Students' Society, the Psychology Society and the Photographic Society. At the end of the tour, she tells me she cannot wait to have me in the university.
I don't have the heart to tell her that I'm not coming to the University of Oxford.
Instead of taking a taxi home, I decided to walk and take in my surroundings.
Oxfordshire is very different from my home town and trudging down this pavement is like taking a walk further down memory lane, except everything around me is so different. Unlike, Chu Hua and Yang Jin, who lock themselves in their rooms when they are upset, I always go outside and appreciate the world around me. Staying indoors only makes things worse. I would be given the opportunity to think and the more I think, the worse I feel.
When Dominic and I were arguing, because both my videos and my letter to Edward were leaked and taken public, instead of staying indoors, I would take the school bus home and let the driver drop me off at the park. Here, I would sometimes just lie down on the grass and stare up into the greying sky, wondering if this would be the day that it would rain on me heavily.
I wouldn't mind it. I needed something to drown my anger, the soft patters of the rain diffusing the feelings of betrayal and letting my sadness wash away slowly.
Once I stumble across the café that my aunt was talking about, I stand in front of the quaint, but still modern shop stiffly. Looking through the door, I watch the people inside. Cool, calm and collected. So much more different than the rowdiness in my father's diner. Pushing the door open, the distant ring of the bell punctures my foggy brain.
Sometimes I still think that this is all a bad dream that I'm going to wake up from at any minute, but all the red crescents on my arm tell a different story. This is real. I got rejected. Just like I always do.
Before I can even venture too deep into my thoughts, a waitress approaches me and after introducing herself as Lily, she asks me if I want a table for one. I want to tell her that I'm actually waiting for someone as they do in the movies to not seem like a pathetic loser, but then I realise that at the end of the day, I'm going to look like the pathetic one when nobody arrives.
I nod curtly and she smiles promptly, leading me to a table for two. I don't think that there are tables for one.
She leaves me with the menu and tells me that she'll be back in a minute. I grin back restrainedly and look over the plastic menu. Worriedly, I shove my hand down my pocket to make sure that I still have the tenner that my aunt gave to me this morning. Exhaling deeply when my fingers touch the crumpled up bill, I go back to looking over what I can buy for a tenner.
I do feel a little cold if the goosebumps marring my arms are anything to go by. I would appreciate a cup of coffee and with the rest of the money, perhaps a big, chocolate muffin. When is the last time I have had muffins? That reminds me, Edward promised to bake some for Chu Hua and me not so long ago. Should I remind him?
With all the awkwardness between you two? Good luck.
At school, Edward would go out of his way to avoid me as if I were carrying some deadly virus. He will only interact with me if it is absolutely necessary.
In the beginning, I was surprised by his behaviour because I had made it clear to him that I no longer harboured any romantic feelings for him. It was hard to believe that he didn't believe me in the first place. However, Taylor luckily came to my rescue and convinced him that my words were true.
Despite this, he still found reasons to avoid me. I couldn't understand why he was behaving this way when I no longer had any feelings for him. At first, I was angry and felt like he was being unfair to me. But then, I realised that there might be more to the situation than meets the eye.
In the cafeteria, he'll sit across from me and his eyes will ask me the same question that he has asked me all these weeks.
'Why? Why didn't you tell me that you liked me, Seong Jin?'
And the answer should be obvious. I didn't tell him, because he's my best friend's boyfriend. If it is this awkward now, can he imagine how awkward it would have been before? This time for a much longer period.
The waitress comes back and asks me if I am ready to order.
"Yes," I shake my head up and down in affirmation, "may I please get a cappuccino with semi-skinned milk and double shots."
She jots that down. "What size would you like?"
"The medium sized one."
"Anything else?" she asks me, a polite grin permanently etched onto her face. Once she walks away, that smile will melt away until she's obliged to do so again.
"Uh, can I also get a chocolate muffin? Actually, make that two, please."
"Of course." She takes the menu away. "I'll be right back with your order."
"Thank you."
To keep myself busy, I fist my phone out of my pocket. Since I was doing an interview, a very important interview, I switched off my phone. Might as well have kept it on, because it turns out I had no shot in the school to begin with.
Once the device has been switched on, I check the texts that come in all at once from when I was offline. There are eleven in total. One is from Fleance. Two are from Taylor. The rest are from my mum. I also have one missed call from her. Before answering Amma, I wonder what Taylor is texting me about.
Her message reads, You went to Oxfordshire without telling me. Call me once you free. Also make sure to lose your virginity to someone while your over there. Get over Dominic by getting under a hot, Oxfordshire lad.
I roll my eyes at that. As if I would ever have sex with someone who I have just met. She knows me better than that. I admit that liking someone else does make me forget about the one I liked before, but I am not so sure if having sex with some random guy with whom I have no previous sexual relations is going to help me forget about my feelings for Dominic.
Yes, maybe for a few minutes until it all comes rushing back to me. That I have feelings for Dominic fucking Lachowski.
Why is he always asking about you? My brows furrow down in perplex at Fleance's message.
Who the hell is he and why is he asking about me? Before answering his question, I put my phone on vibrate in case I forgot to later on. It's not that I don't want to miss any calls, because I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone back home, but at the same time, I don't want to miss too many calls to the point that I worry my parents. I am in a foreign city. They will go crazy with concern if I all of a sudden ghost them.
Yeah, I don't know who he is so it's very difficult for me to answer that question.
Glancing up, I smile when the waitress comes back with my food. Pocketing my phone, I thank her.
She leaves me with a polite 'enjoy'.
I don't want to talk to anyone back home right now. Not even Taylor. I have a feeling she will just blabber to Yang Jin who will first blabber to Chu Hua because she's his favourite sibling and then my parents. I want to prolong the disappointment they will feel from my getting rejected by the university.
With a defeated sigh, I bring the cup up to my face and take a whiff of the cappuccino. Well, at least it can't get any worse than this, right? I think this is my rock bottom. This is the worst it can get, right?
I pause cautiously when that thought surfaces, expecting something worse to happen. That's normally what happens in the movies. I wait stiffly, but fortunately, nothing happens. There is no worse. It's just as normal as it was before I had the thought.
Just as I'm taking a large sip of my cappuccino, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pause. Then another vibrate. With a defeated breath leaving my lips, I place my caffeine-filled beverage down. Yet another vibrate. That is definitely a call. The first call. I don't have to answer it yet. Maybe after the fifth one, but not right now. I ignore it until the call goes straight to my voicemail.
Please don't call again, I beg mentally.
As I go to drink my cappuccino, the phone rings again. With another sigh, I pull it out and pray that it isn't my mum or my best friend or anyone from Shoreditch. I don't want to lie to them and tell them that the interview went great or that it rained Skittles during said interview. Reprieve makes my chest deflate, that it isn't my mum or my best friend or anyone from Shoreditch. My lips purse when I realise that it's someone who has contact with people in Shoreditch.
"Hey," I drag out awkwardly, playing with the edge of my plate. "What's up?"
"Seong Jin?" she muses in confusion. "It's me. Your aunt."
Somebody tell her we have caller ID. "Yeah, I know. What's up?"
"You know what's up," she says excitedly. "How did the interview go?"
"Uh… it went."
"Went what?"
"What?" I exclaim, pretending to not hear her.
She repeats her enquiry.
"Uh… sorry, Imo but you're kinda cutting off."
"I am?"
"What was that?"
Before she can answer, I hang up on her with a deep huff. My shoulders slump and after shaking my head guiltily, I pocket my phone again. I hope she doesn't call again. I don't feel good about lying to her. For now, I just don't want to admit to anyone that I won't be going to the University of Oxford. It's disheartening, to say the least. I was really looking forward to going there.
As I take a sip of my cappuccino, the warm, creamy taste fills my mouth with satisfaction. For the first time in hours, I finally get to enjoy a moment of peace without any interruptions.
Suddenly, a group of boys enters the coffee shop, their laughter echoing through the room. I gaze up and immediately meet the intense gaze of one of them, his eyes a mesmerizing mix of both jade and brown. Despite the awkwardness of being caught staring, I find myself unable to look away from his captivating eyes. The longer we stare at each other, the more I become lost in the familiarity of heterochromatic eyes as though I have known him for years.
And then I realise where I have seen him.
He's the same boy who I ran into this morning while he was on his skateboard.
My eyes flutter rapidly and I awkwardly let my eyes fall onto the table.
Through the corner of my eye, I find a mark peeking out even with the plate of muffins covering a bit of the writing, carved into the wood, lighter brown contrasting against the dark brown of the table. Moving my plate aside a bit, I read what is carved into it.
Mari 'n Ezra 4 Ever.
Involuntarily, my lips quirk up softly as I trace the engraved letters with my fingertips. I can't help it. I'm hopeful unromantic. It's nice to see that there is something better happening somewhere in the world other than my misery. The connection between two people. Whoever Mari and Ezra are, I hope that their love still exists to this day. I have no idea how old this carving is.
Maybe they are both old now and sitting in rocking chairs, smiling at their grandchildren. Maybe they just left this café twenty minutes ago and are heading to an ice cream parlour. Maybe they're broken up.
"Mari and Ezra," someone murmurs above me.
I glance up into the familiar heterochromatic eyes that were gazing at me not so long ago. His hair is a tousled mess, olive skin practically glowing under the soft café lighting.
"You see that cute couple sitting out there at the bus stop?"
My gaze follows his pointed finger and I immediately see the two people cuddled up at the bus stop with their hands secretly clasped together, bodies angled towards one another. The girl tosses her head back with laughter at something he says and in response he reaches across the table to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear, his touch seemingly featherlight and achingly tender. They look oblivious to the bystanders and pedestrians around them, caught up in their own world.
"Is that them?"
"Mm-hmm."
They are still together, I think to myself with a soft grin. That's cool.
"They look like the rest of the world could go up in flames and they would still be happy with themselves, in their own little bubble."
"Yeah, I genuinely have not seen two people who are that infatuated with each other."
I nod in agreement, my gaze still drawn to the couple. They make me feel a little envious of them, a longing for the kind of love they so clearly share. I wonder what it must feel like to be so completely and utterly devoted to another person.
"Funny seeing you again," he says with a bit of a smile on the corner of his mouth.
I nod, squinting up at him in mock suspicion. "You're not stalking me, are you?"
"I actually might. Running into each other back to back like this can't be a coincidence," he says jestingly and an amused smile breaks out of my face. "Do you mind if I take a seat here with you?"
My head tilts to the side, and I look him up and down in intrigue, taking in the warmth in his mismatched eyes. There is a gentleness there that I find myself oddly drawn to. Do I perhaps know him from somewhere? His demeanour, its confidence and casualness, seems to draw everyone's attention to him, especially the girls. Except it's almost as if he does not even realise how much attention he is drawing to himself. He doesn't notice how handsome he is.
"Yeah. I mean, no I do not mind if you sit here with me. You can sit down anywhere you want to."
"Okay," he echoes after my mutterings as an amused grin perches onto his plump lips. As he's taking the seat opposite me, he holds his hand out, I'm guessing to introduce himself, but what he ends up doing is knocking my cappuccino over onto my lap.
I spring up in surprise, throwing my hands up.
"Oh, my God," I murmur, blinking down at the wetness staining my crotch.
"I am so sorry," he exclaims apologetically before rushing up from his chair and jogging over to my side, grabbing some serviettes from the table on his way.
When I see that the cup of cappuccino is still tipped over and spilling, I pick it up and right it on the table. When I feel him patting the wetness on my trousers in a panic and muttering a bunch of incoherent words, I awkwardly glance down at his hands. No man should be that close to my crotch unless they're my boyfriend.
The waitress approaches us and her eyes widen at the scene before her. I don't blame her. I would be just as surprised.
"Is everything okay here? Are you okay, sir? You didn't get burned, right?" she asks me in concern.
"I'm fine," I mutter to her, distracted by the fact that this guy is still trying to wipe away my wet splotch. I quickly grab his hands to stop him.
Fearfully, he glances up at me through his eyelashes.
I gently grab the scrunched up serviettes out of his soft, slightly trembling hands. Reassuringly, I grin down at him and say, "It's okay, mate."
Meeting his gaze again, I inhale inaudibly as I sink into the guileless sea of his jaded, oceanic pool and the warm, autumn chestnut that is colouring his other eye. His dark brown hair is a mix between silky and curly which makes me wonder how soft it would feel between my fingers.
When his eyes flicker down onto my hand which is, for some unknown reason, still holding his, I stare at our palms for quite some time, longer than what would be deemed normal. Through the corner of my eye, I notice the waitress still standing beside us with a look of bemusement staining her expression.
Clearing my throat awkwardly, I pull my hand away and break our intense staring and instead run my hand through my hair.
"Is there a restroom I can use to… clean myself up?" I ask the waitress with an anxious chuckle.
"Um… yes," she stammers with a stiff smile before pointing to where the restroom is. "It's right over there."
"Thank you," I nod with a grateful smile stretching onto my face. Before walking away, I chance one last glance at the person who was the cause of all this and I almost burst into laughter when I see how red the tips of his ears are, blushed from embarrassment.