《Her Dear Alicia》


 Three Minutes

    It took Alicia Liu Xin Yi only a period of English and five minutes of recess to finish her homework essay: ¡®What are the pros and cons of social media?¡¯ Everyone else wouldn¡¯t stop complaining to Mr Yeo for an extension, and mourned the weekends they¡¯d to waste completing it.


    Once finished, she always stored them in her locker, alongside her files and textbooks of every subject except the ones she intended to study for at home. Until her form teacher, Mr Lee banned it for this reason: If everyone kept all their school materials at school, what would they use to revise back at home? The looming threat of their O¡¯Levels, a national exam, weighed heavier than any textbooks ever would. Stop whining, start studying.


    Alicia disagreed, seeing that her classmates would merely bring their materials home and not revise anyway, then forget to bring it back to school the next day, ironically leading them to study less. But, she still obeyed Mr Lee. Thank god he didn¡¯t ban the storage of completed assignments.


    And to no one¡¯s surprise, only she obeyed Mr Lee.


    It took her a good few minutes, fiddling with the stupid lock and jogging her memory over the password, then wondering if Vinn had messed with it to pick on her, before it finally clicked open.


    With a sigh of relief, she retied her ponytail back to the exact center of her head.


    But what she saw at the corner of her eye afterwards, made her gasp.


    Vinn and his troupe of screaming monkeys loitered around the toilets. Fumes of their cigarettes polluted them and the air around them. Neither the school rules nor the laws mattered to them; they were too cool for that. So cool that they could break them in broad daylight.


    Idiots.


    ¡°Hey! Smoking is against the rules, and the law! None of you are over the age of eighteen!¡± She shouted at them. With such carelessness, it was only a matter of time before they got caught. Right?


    They looked at her the way the class looked at her, like she was a Spot the Difference puzzle on the highest difficulty: something was off, but they didn¡¯t know what. Then they rolled their eyes and spat obscenities at her.


    Monkeys.


    ¡°Fuck off.¡± Vinn, their de facto leader, was the first to attack.


    ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to use foul language! Mr Lee said it leaves others with a bad impression of you.¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± Another followed, baring fists.


    ¡°There are CCTV cameras all over the place. If they caught you, you would be expelled and sent to jail! Stop smoking now!¡±


    Out of childish spite, one of them blew a puff of smoke towards her. The venomous smell stung her nose like a wasp. She coughed, swatting it away with her hands.


    ¡°I¡¯ll report you to Mr Lee! How do you think your mothers would feel if they knew about this?¡±


    The monkeys slowly surrounded her, eyeing her like a careless tourist. Oh no.


    ¡°What about our father?¡± One asked. ¡°Oh wait.¡±


    Everyone laughed. But it wasn¡¯t funny.


    ¡°That is not something you should laugh about.¡±


    ¡°How can I laugh about something that doesn¡¯t exist?¡± The laughter continued.


    ¡°Go on, report me. I dare you.¡± His words cut the air like a knife.


    The monkeys inched closer. She could pick up the equally vile deodorant wafting off their crumpled uniforms, littered with bits and pieces of¡­ whatever that was. Food? Mud? Ash? The monkeys bared teeth, showed claws, screeched more of the unfunny she-doesn¡¯t-have-a-father jokes.


    She froze. Prayed for a teacher walking by to save her. None did.


    ¡°This is why no one likes you.¡± He dangled the cigarette pack over her face, snapped his fingers, and everyone left.


    She unfroze, stuffed her worksheet in her locker and ran back to class.


    Just as she did, she kicked something. Vinn dropped his cigarette and lighter behind when running away. It made her roll her eyes. He could¡¯ve started a fire, making that the second dumbest fire that broke out in this school. The first was from a Secondary 5 student who tried to light his cigarette with a Bunsen burner.


    What was so cool about smoking, anyway?


    This question was rhetorical, and it typically ended here. She already knew the answer; it wasn¡¯t. But today, she gave it a more critical analysis. Her school always had a bad rep for its debilitating smoking problem. No amount of assembly talks or detention could ever fix it. Whatever any teacher said, everyone still smoked.


    It was like riding a rollercoaster: Finding their cigarettes, buying it, smoking it, then hiding it. She heard from the grapevine that one could bypass the smokelyzer test if they chewed lots of bubblegum (also against the law) and chugged lots of water. It was a group ride too, with most smokers dispersing into groups of four or five for collaboration.


    Only Alicia resisted the peer pressure, rose above the delinquency and abstained. This was like sliding down sandpaper solo.


    The research showed that cigarettes contained an addictive substance known as nicotine that kept the user hooked onto its taste and smell. But she doubted if that was the full answer. Nicotine didn¡¯t explain why everyone liked smokers, but not her.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Perhaps she wouldn¡¯t know unless she tried. One couldn¡¯t hurt, she thought. She pulled a stick out of the pack and studied the ash inside.


    Most articles reported on smoking discussed addictions that lasted several years, where it was already too late when they realized the error of their ways. Meanwhile, she would only smoke one. Yes, this was a common excuse used to deny a growing addiction, but the difference in her case was that she had no other chances besides this one. She had no idea how to find a cigarette, had no money to buy one, and had no lighter to light one, even if she wanted to. Hence, in her case, it wouldn¡¯t be an excuse.


    She locked herself in a bathroom stall and placed the cylinder in her mouth. It tasted like paper.


    Was the solution under her nose this entire time?


    Next, she used the lighter, pulling the little tab thingy on the side.


    Flick! A spark ignited. Her fingers felt hot. She shrieked and dropped it on the floor, but nothing happened. She tried again (exerting more force), and again (exerting less force), and again (doing it rapidly), and at last, a flame appeared. If her memory didn¡¯t fail her, the next step was to hover it over the opposite end of the cigarette, and smoke would come out of her mouth. Somehow.


    Time to see what the fuss was all about.


    Nothing happened. She exhaled. Nothing happened. She inhaled instead, and something happened. It tasted like what she imagined a cockroach would taste like. Her body purged the venom out with a series of violent coughs and gags.


    Why would anyone like this?


    Tossing both items away, she rushed to the toilet and ran her mouth against the water cooler. Usually, she hated the water coolers for its icy water, but was now grateful for the ice numbing the taste of the venom away. For a second, she expected herself to vomit. Luckily, she didn¡¯t.


    Swiftly, she left the bathroom and tossed the two items into the bin, letting out a strongly held breath. Tossing it in the toilet bowl would mess with the plumbing, and give the poor janitors more work to do.


    Smoking was not the solution under her nose.


    Then, she saw Mr Lee across the hall storming towards her. The sports shoe he wore made blood-curling squeaks against the floor, leaving papercuts in her eardrums.


    ¡°Alicia Liu Xin Yi, what did you just throw into the rubbish bin!¡± he thundered.


    ¡°A cigarette and a lighter.¡± Alicia answered. She stood upright with her hands behind her back. Escaping would be defiance. Lying would be defiance. Students should be honest about their wrongdoings and reflect on their mistakes.


    ¡°Where did you get them from?¡±


    ¡°Vinn left it behind after running away.¡±


    ¡°What were you doing with them?¡±


    ¡°I was smoking the cigarette, but I¡ª¡±


    ¡°You understand that this is against the school rules, right?¡± He placed a hand on his hip.


    The student should not talk back or make excuses for their wrongdoings when reprimanded by a teacher. They should listen and nod.


    ¡°How long have this been going on?¡±


    ¡°Um¡­¡± She did the math in her head. Starting from inspecting the items, to fumbling with the lighter, to tasting it (supposedly nicotine), to purging it out with water. Her best estimation was, ¡°Three minutes?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t lie.¡±


    ¡°I will not.¡±


    ¡°Why did you do it?¡± He sighed.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m sorry Mr Lee! I will never do it again.¡± Her eyes and Mr Lee¡¯s repelled.


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear. It¡¯s okay to be curious, but we teachers warn you against this kind of stuff for a reason. Remember the Chemistry Lab incident?¡±


    She nodded again.


    ¡°Follow me. I¡¯m bringing you to Mr Xun¡¯s office.¡±


    ¡°No, I promise I won¡¯t do it again!¡±


    ¡°Alicia, you do know the consequences of smoking, right?¡±


    ¡°A disciplinary warning¡­¡±


    Alicia hung her head low and scolded herself on the way there. It was a common excuse, and she now had used it too, despite knowing about it. That made it worse. Offenses for smoking were a disciplinary warning (get three and the student will be expelled), and up to two weeks of detention depending on severity. Worst of all, the students¡¯ parents will be called.


    It would disrupt Mom¡¯s chaotic schedule and ruin her performance at work. With a less than stellar performance, Mom may get fired, and if she does, they will become homeless. It took her three minutes to put her entire livelihood at risk, and somehow that wasn¡¯t the worst part.


    How would Mom feel? It would hurt her to know her daughter was led astray, like her in the past, which she still paid the price for to this day. In three minutes, she had broken the sacred mother-daughter pact, sealed with the crossing of pinkies: Don¡¯t end up like me.


    Alicia wished that she could bargain with Mr Xun the principal, and offer him a full month of detention for leaving Mom uninformed. But she knew this was impossible. Bargaining was talking back, which was defiance, which was a second disciplinary warning. Mom¡¯s heart would be less than ashes at that point.


    Mr Xun¡¯s office was in the staffroom on the ground floor, facing the canteen. It gave everyone a front-row seat to the next mischievous student¡¯s trial. Today, that student was her. Mr Lee knocked on the glass, and Mr Xun led him in.


    Within the staffroom, his office was all the way at the back past every teacher¡¯s cubicle. Even they got a front-row seat. Mr Xun was old enough to be her grandfather, which was the typical age of principals, making him perfect for the job. Crossing his hands together, he listened as Mr Lee explained the incident. Once Mr Lee finished, he leaned back and thought for a while. In the meantime, Alicia examined the cabinet of rewards behind him; trophies, plaques, and certificates. This neighbourhood school did not deserve them.


    He went over the dangers of smoking again, holding a private one-to-one assembly speech. Then, he broke the bad news to her, ¡°I¡¯m gonna have to give your mother a call.¡±


    She could not disagree, as that was defiance. ¡°Give me your mother¡¯s number.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you already have this information recorded?¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s like that, huh? Okay.¡± He said and called Mom. As expected, he already had her number. So why did he ask her for it?


    He only offered Mom the headline, ¡°Mrs Liu? I¡¯m calling to inform you that we caught your daughter Alicia smoking a cigarette today. Could you please come down to settle this matter? Okay, thank you Mrs Liu.¡±


    ¡°Your mother is on her way here. In the meantime, while we wait for her, I suggest you take this time to reflect on your actions, and think about how you¡¯re gonna explain this to your mother.¡±


    The room fell into pin-drop silence. Mr Lee stared at her. Mr Xun stared at her. Alicia stared at her shoes. Two magnets repelled her eyes in this room.


    In thirty minutes, Mom would join them and stare at her too (three magnets). In forty-five minutes, Mom would make her bow her head down like they were praying in a temple. In an hour, she would disappoint Mom again.

 Wonton Noodles with a Hint of Chili and Scrambled Eggs on the Side

    Serena Liu Yi Shan couldn¡¯t stop herself from blinking whenever she stared at the ceiling of the pet store. The fluorescent lights above had been flickering since last week, and the manager had yet to call anyone to fix it. The flickering carried a sort of pattern, almost resembling morse code. Though she could not decode it, she knew they were gossiping about her. In specific, her pathetic life.


    What had gone so miserably wrong that at her age, she worked at a pet shop? Forty years of life, of time, of experience, all culminating in the success of today: stocking shelves with canned food, sorting them by colour and ensuring the logo faced out. A life well lived.


    It was possible for her to work without calling anyone by name in this shop. Hence, the remembering of names was a choice, not a necessity. And Serena only made that choice with the three colleagues she befriended.


    Kelly, pushing a basket to the Cat food aisle, was only here to put food on the table, whilst chasing her ambitions of becoming a business-owner. Just married a few months ago, the honeymoon period still went strong. Filled with prospects, it saddened Serena to see her waste it here. She wished Alicia would find a man like Kelly¡¯s husband, who made Kelly smile in that way that revealed her dimples with his surprise visits. Out of everyone, the uniform fitted her curvy figure the best.


    Gen, feeding the rabbits by the front entrance, was the only person who enjoyed working here. A mother to three dogs, she was the only one who benefited from the staff discounts. She was also a foodie, which was evident from the extra pounds on her double chin and stomach. Gen never stopped complaining about those.


    If not for Cheryl, she would¡¯ve been the oldest woman in the store. Cheryl couldn¡¯t hold one full conversation without bringing up the apple of her eye; Zack: Zack scored single digits for O¡¯Levels. Zack got into the badminton school team. Zack was in one of the top JCs in Singapore, on track to be in one of the top universities in Singapore, and to get a job in one of the top industries in Singapore, making one of the top salaries in Singapore. If only Alicia was more like him. Cheryl also took her role of store manager way too seriously, ruling this run-down place with an iron fist. Along her neck was a necklace that glistened against the flickering lights above like moonlight. Everyone knew all the subtle ways she¡¯d flaunt it in conversations, but no one had the gall to call her out on it.


    The trio broke for lunch, leaving the part-timers with the remaining pile of cans to sort. As each of them swung the glass door open, an annoying set of chimes crashed into each other, playing that melody that was forever stuck in her head. Whenever Serena went into another store with a chime by the door, her heart skipped a beat.


    Cheryl was always the first to speak: Zack placed in the top three of his cohort this semester. She was the only mother who could grow this sprawling garden of talent and promise in her child. Serena, meanwhile, could only borrow the fertilizer the woman used in nuggets: ban all technology, only use tough love, and always be in charge.


    Understanding it was simple, executing it was impossible.


    Cheryl¡¯s boasts stirred the cauldron of guilt Serena held within. She dealt with it by admiring a polaroid of Alicia in her wallet. In the photograph, the girl smiled from ear to ear, and stood beside her favourite teacher with a peace sign on Teacher¡¯s Day in her primary school years.


    The girl promised everyone she¡¯d score full ¡®A¡¯s when she went into secondary school, and be every teacher¡¯s star pupil. It was in these moments where Serena felt like a good mother.


    They grew rarer and rarer with each day.


    Her phone buzzed. She dug it out of her handbag and went, ¡°Hi, this is Serena from Happy Tails pet store, how may I-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for Mrs Liu?¡± He said. It took her a second to recognise him to be the principal.


    Oops. Her cheeks warmed up. ¡°Sorry, I haven¡¯t had my coffee yet. Yes, speaking.¡± She told a white lie to save face.


    ¡°I¡¯m calling to inform you that we caught your daughter Alicia smoking a cigarette today. Could you please come down to settle this matter?¡±


    She seized up, ¡°Uh¡­ Sure.¡±


    ¡°When would you be able to come down?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there in ten minutes.¡±


    ¡°Okay, see you.¡± He hung up.


    ¡°Um, Cheryl¡­¡± She bowed down. ¡°Alicia got into some trouble at school. I¡ª I need to go. I¡¯ll work OT next week to make up for it and buy you your favourite mala.¡±


    She prayed for Cheryl¡¯s leniency.


    ¡°Xiao-la (mild spicy).¡± Cheryl folded her arms.


    ¡°Thank you! Thank you!¡± She bowed her head and headed to the carpark.


    She got into her run-down car and sped off. The radio crackled regardless of the station, played through the god-awful speakers that had too much bass, and too less volume. Alicia couldn¡¯t stand it one bit. The air-conditioner couldn¡¯t go below twenty-four degrees, which was only a problem on the hotter days, and would choose to blast out warm air any time of its liking.


    Alicia always complained about the sorry state of her school, not knowing how good she has it. Compared to Serena¡¯s old school, this place was a five-star hotel. Back then, a computer lab was a crowning achievement a school could have. Nowadays, everyone complained that the computers themselves were older than their phones. She knocked on the glass door, and Mr Lee led her to the principal¡¯s office.


    ¡°What happened?¡± She asked.


    Alicia was staring at the window with a deadpan expression, watching¡­ What was she even looking at? Zero respect. She cranked Alicia¡¯s head forward. ¡°Look at me when I¡¯m talking to you!¡± Their eyes were like magnets of like poles. They repelled. But Serena demanded the girl defied the laws of Physics, because eye contact was basic manners.


    The air-condition in his office was way too cold for any human person, but she tried her best to resist shivering. His exquisite wooden desk would look amazing as a coffee table in the living room.


    ¡°No one was talking to me¡±, Alicia said.


    Clever. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Alicia had tears in her eyes. ¡°I made a mistake.¡±


    ¡°What mistake?¡±


    ¡°The principal already told you about it on the phone.¡±


    ¡°So he¡¯s right? You smoked?¡±


    Alicia nodded.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Her jaw opened wide. If this was Zack, what would Cheryl do? What did tough love entail in this scenario? A firm scolding, and a firmer punishment. She was never good at that.


    ¡°Why would you do something so stupid?¡±


    ¡°I was just curious¡­¡± Alicia started turning away again.


    ¡°Look at me when I¡¯m talking to you! Where are your manners?¡±


    The principal cleared his throat. ¡°Mr Lee caught Alicia throwing a cigarette and lighter into the rubbish bin during recess today. I had the school janitor retrieve it and wash it¡­¡± With a sleight-of-hand, he revealed them like a magician and slid them across the table.


    She picked it up, noticed the black char inside. Two decades ago, she would have smoked it with the same desperation a man in the desert drank water. ¡°You see this black part inside? You want your lungs to be like this? Chao-tar (Burnt)!¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°Where did you even get this?¡±


    ¡°Vinn left it behind after he ran away.¡±


    ¡°I thought you promised never to do stuff like this!¡± Don¡¯t end up like me. ¡°Don¡¯t you know better?¡±


    ¡°Mrs Liu.¡± The principal said, ¡°We take smoking very seriously in this school. Especially after the incident a few months ago. I¡¯m sure you remember?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I have decided that Alicia will be given a disciplinary warning¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    Strike one of three before expulsion. What would happen then? Alicia cannot end up like her. She¡¯d rather die.


    ¡°Please¡­ Alicia needs to finish secondary school and get her O¡¯Level certificate! Think about her future!¡± Serena pleaded.


    ¡°Alicia, what do you think about what your mother had just said?¡±


    ¡°Why is Vinn not expelled yet?¡± Alicia mumbled, thinking no one heard it. But Serena did.


    ¡°You still dare to talk back?¡±


    Finally, Alicia shut up.


    The principal continued, ¡°And she will be given a week of detention.¡±


    There was no use arguing with the principal, ¡°Okay. Thank you Mr Xun. Your office looks elegant.¡± She bowed her head, forcing Alicia to do the same. ¡°I will talk some sense into her when we get home. This will never happen again, right Alicia?¡± She pinched Alicia¡¯s elbow.


    ¡°Ouch!¡±


    ¡°Right? Alicia?¡±


    ¡°Right?¡± Alicia asked.


    She thanked him again, and continued pinching Alicia by the elbow through the courtyard. There was a vast wall by the pavement displaying the best works of art the school produced, starting with a painting of the Botanical Gardens, with the signature of the artist at the bottom corner: Ahmad from class 3A. The leaves had unbelievable detail, with the branch reaching to the end of every leaf. Even from all the way here, those leaves stood out.


    First, she gave the firm scolding.


    ¡°You know what cigarettes are made of?¡±


    ¡°They are made of nicotine, which is an addictive substance that reaches the brain in seconds and triggers your neurotransmitters, which help regulate mood and behaviour!¡±


    ¡°Oh! So you know about it, and you still smoked anyway?¡±


    The Merlion, painted by Sarah from class 2C. Unlike the rest of the painting, the stream of water from the lion-mermaid statue¡¯s mouth seemed rushed.


    ¡°I thought if I smoked, something good might come from it.¡±


    ¡°Something good? What amazing good can come from smoking? Go on, tell me!¡±


    ¡°I was mistaken.¡± Alicia lowered her voice.


    ¡°You¡¯ve always been such a good girl, even when all your other classmates are off causing trouble. First you join them smoking, then what¡¯s next? Slacking off on your studies? O¡¯Levels are coming, you know? This exam determines the rest of your life! You mess this up, you mess up your whole future, and you¡¯ll never stop regretting it!¡±


    Alicia gulped.


    She scoffed again. They entered the car and drove back home.


    ¡°And thanks to you, I have to skip a day of work just to come rescue you! Do you want me to get fired? You know what will happen if I got fired? My job is the only thing that brings food to the table, you know? If I got fired, we¡¯ll have to rent out your bedroom just to pay the bills! No more wonton noodles, and definitely no new laptop!¡±


    ¡°But you promised!¡±


    ¡°You dare talk about that right now?¡±


    She slammed the steering wheel. The worst period of every parent¡¯s life had arrived right on schedule: teenagehood. Filled with knowledge, but without experience, they walked around thinking they knew better than anyone. This complex had to be beaten out of them, literally or figuratively, or they¡¯ll end up in rehab.


    Cooking was the only me-time she had nowadays, and she treasured every second of it. Even in fuming anger and with a migraine, this had to be done. The carrots, she sliced like a lumberjack cut wood, imagining them to be the teenagehood in Alicia that led the girl to do such stupid things. The eggs, she cracked and tossed it in the bin like a baseball. The rice, she squeezed the life out of whilst soaked in water, before dumping it in the rice cooker. Ingrate.


    At least Alicia still had the diligence to do the laundry, as a daughter should. But said diligence would fade if she didn¡¯t act fast.


    Tonight¡¯s dish was Alicia¡¯s favourite: wonton noodles. No, the girl didn¡¯t deserve it, but the ingredients had been in the fridge all week, begging to be used.


    To accommodate Alicia¡¯s picky taste buds, she added scrambled egg to the dish, and calculated the precise amount of chili to add. If even one thing was wrong, the girl would pout. After years of this pickiness, she had all but given up on trying to correct it. At least the girl liked vegetables.


    ¡°Alicia! Dinner¡¯s ready!¡±


    The girl hid in her room all day, secretive about whatever she was doing, which always set off Serena¡¯s paranoia. Sighing, she knocked on the door.


    ¡°Come out and eat at the dining table! Dinner is ready! I cooked you your favourite. Wonton noodles. Eat while it¡¯s still hot!¡±


    Alicia came out smiling. ¡°Yay!¡± Alicia flapped her hands like penguin fins.


    Serena never knew where the girl learned that from. She only knew how embarrassing it was. The worst instance of this was when Alicia did it at a high-end restaurant at a friend¡¯s party, causing everyone to give her a weird look. That night, everyone commented on the girl with passive-aggressive, sarcastic compliments when talking to her.


    They weren¡¯t invited ever again.


    ¡°You can do that when you¡¯re at home. But when you¡¯re outside, please control yourself. People will think there¡¯s something wrong with you,¡± she warned.


    Dismayed, Alicia stopped. She dug into the noodles and started again. It was like a dog¡¯s tail, which could be controlled, but wagged on its own.


    ¡°How is it?¡±


    Alicia nodded profusely.


    She couldn¡¯t help but smile. If only her daughter wasn¡¯t caught smoking today, and got herself a disciplinary warning. Then perhaps she could enjoy this moment more.


    ¡°You know why I¡¯m so worried about this, right?¡±


    ¡°I am eating! And I know!¡±


    ¡°Ok, ok¡­¡± She put her hands up. Alicia hated it when people talked while eating. ¡°Tell me why, and I¡¯ll stop. I want to make sure you understand.¡±


    ¡°Because you married Dad, and he turned out to be a junkie, and that was the worst mistake you ever made.¡±


    The truth hurt.


    ¡°Ok¡­ good. So you see? It¡¯s incredibly dangerous. It can leave you making mistakes you¡¯ll regret for the rest of your life. It can lead you to end up with a junkie!¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Promise me you will never do anything like this again.¡±


    ¡°You said you will stop!¡±


    ¡°Just promise me!¡± She raised her voice, but didn¡¯t mean to. ¡°Don¡¯t end up like me. You¡¯re better than that.¡±


    ¡°I promise.¡±


    They crossed their pinkies. She let go of a breath she didn¡¯t know she held all day. Alicia finished her food, cleaned her plate, and headed to bed.


    Serena accomplished the firm scolding well. But what about the firmer punishment?


    While Alicia slept, Serena swept the floor, paid the bills, checked the fridge, updated the shopping list, and showered. Though, even that wasn¡¯t enough to wash off the bags under her eyes, or the wrinkles on her sagging skin. All of that took her two hours to complete.


    At last, she had some time to herself, which she could either spend struggling to sleep, or unwinding with some TV. She chose the TV every time.


    Then came the burning back pain. Then came the stabbing migraine. Then came the unshed tears; she didn¡¯t know why though. Her eyes were already half closed when she held the remote, and before she could find the right channel, her eyes shut.

 Off

    The first thing Alicia noticed in detention was the teacher in charge. The Gloomy Gus looked like he drank spoilt milk for breakfast every day, and could not wait for his day to end. She found it ironic that supervising detention punished him with detention.


    ¡°Name?¡± He demanded.


    ¡°Alicia!¡± she answered, the first one here, despite being a minute late.


    He flipped through the attendance sheet and made a tick on her name, then handed her a pile of foolscap. ¡°Sit at the back row and write a reflection essay about what you learnt here. Once you¡¯re done, you can leave.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re not teaching anything. How do I write about what I¡¯ve learnt here, if you aren¡¯t teaching anything? Or would you conduct a lesson once the other students arrive?¡±


    ¡°I have no time for this. Sit at the back.¡±


    ¡°No time for what? I can¡¯t see the whiteboard from the back.¡±


    ¡°You want me to add another week to your detention?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then sit at the back and write your essay.¡±


    She was dumbfounded.


    ¡°And no talking!¡± He declared.


    Other students, which included Vinn of course, poured in, and the Gloomy Gus had the secret sauce to keep them silent. Not even the librarian could do this good of a job at shushing, and teachers fared even worse. Perhaps the most effective method to quash chit-chat was to quash the mood for chit-chat.


    To ensure none of these bad apples sat next to her, she took a page out of her classmates¡¯ book and placed her bag on the seat beside her. It took her a semester to understand this gesture as code for , ¡°Go away.¡±


    Then the Gloomy Gus interfered, ¡°Kat, go sit next to Alicia.¡±


    Oh no. Kat, a fellow classmate who wore a skirt that was way too short, made her way to the back. Upon seeing the occupied chair, she pushed it aside and replaced it with another empty chair from another empty table. Despite her attire, she still sat with her legs up and wide. Thank goodness she wore shorts underneath.


    Why did people sit like that? It wasn¡¯t even relaxing, considering that they had to sandwich their legs in the desk drawer underneath at an odd angle. The one time Alicia tried it, her leg cramped.


    At least Kat wasn''t amongst those who picked on her. She was among the rest of them, who simply ignored her. Kat placed a few textbooks in the desk drawer to create a DIY phone stand and watched adorable dog videos on mute.


    Almost everyone did this, though they all watched different things. The more daring ones even went a step further and played video games in broad daylight. Yet, Gloomy Gus knew none the wiser.


    Only Alicia did her essay in silence. With no actual content being taught, her next best guess was to write about the sin that she ought to repent here over two weeks: smoking.


    The routine after school was to visit the library to unwind with a good book, then go home and help Mom with the chores, and doing her homework or study until dinner time. After dinner was revision time.


    This system was perfect. Unwinding in the afternoon allowed her to escape the blazing sun in the comforts of the library. Helping Mom with chores allowed Mom to come home to a cleaned house. Revising at night helped eliminate all distractions, and it was also when her brain worked best.


    But thanks to detention, it was all ruined. Her day was off. She had to compromise one activity to get back on track.


    She finished her essay, and all that remained was double check it. This was the habit that separated the ¡®A¡¯ students from the rest of the class. Mr Lee said so.


    ¡°I¡¯m done!¡± She passed it to him.


    ¡°Okay, you can go.¡± He didn¡¯t even look at it.


    ¡°Are you not going to mark it?¡±


    ¡°Do you not want to go home?¡±


    ¡°No, I do want to go home.¡±


    ¡°Then go.¡± He didn¡¯t even look at her. His head was knee-deep in the biology papers he was marking. The speed he was going at explained why teachers had such terrible handwriting.


    ¡°Will you hand it back to me tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°You want me to mark it? Fine. I¡¯ll take until four to mark it. Sit back down.¡±


    ¡°What? You told me I could be dismissed!¡±


    ¡°Four-thirty.¡±


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Everyone stared at her like a nutcase. From the back, she heard Vinn trying and failing to mask his laughter.


    ¡°But you said once I finished my essay, I may leave!¡±


    ¡°Four forty-five.¡± He dragged every word.


    She balled fists and went back to her seat. How could a teacher, of all people, act like this? How does this not upset anyone else? And why was she asked to stay back for an hour longer, when everyone else was secretly using their phones the entire time?


    To add salt to injury, the Gloomy Gus allowed the others to go to the toilet with their fully packed bags, ignoring the obvious ploy to skip detention. By four-forty five, she and the napping students were the only one left in class.


    The sun was already setting, which meant she didn¡¯t need to close the blinds at the library, which meant she didn¡¯t get to hear the zip sound they made that scratched an itch in her ears.


    Mom wasn¡¯t ¡®still at work¡¯, rather she was ¡®about to be home¡¯. The floor was not cleaned, the laundry undone, and she wasn¡¯t home. But if she went home without unwinding, the entire night would be ruined. She¡¯d be like Mom: stressed, tired and angry.


    There wouldn¡¯t be enough time to finish her chores in time, even if she was at home. Mom would come home to dirty floors, undone laundry, and messy rooms. It would kill her, especially after yesterday.


    Mom would have to pick up the slack before cooking dinner. Dinner would come late, leaving her hungry for an hour or two. Dinner would be finished late, reducing her time for homework and revision. Lesser time to revise would place her further behind, making her first ¡®A¡¯ impossible. Or, she still revised as usual, but slept later, which would disrupt her sleep, leaving her to go to school exhausted tomorrow; or worse yet, oversleep.


    Everything was ruined. If anyone understood, they would cry over it too, but no one did.


    Also, her Food and Consumer Education (FCE) coursework was due soon.


    The coursework was so large that Mr Lee had to divide it into three submission checkpoints. One, students had to propose a new dish to be sold in the canteen. With research, they had to explain how the dish suited the dietary needs, appealed the taste buds, and remained affordable for their schoolmates.


    Two, students had to draft up a business proposal for how the new dish would be launched into the canteen, and give projections on the success that it would bring over a six-month period. They then have to conduct an interview with a canteen vendor to receive feedback. Reflecting on that feedback, they would make revisions to their proposal.


    Three, students were tasked to compile and present their proposal to the class. After receiving feedback, they would make a final round of revisions before the final deadline.


    This wasn¡¯t even accounting for the written and practical exam.


    Checkpoint one was due in two weeks, hence taking priority over her chores. The bare minimum required was for the student to pick a dish. Alicia had already done this in her head. She just needed to type her thoughts into words.


    Her dish of choice was the Mexican staple, tacos. With its crispy hard or soft and doughy shell, a kick of spice and sourness over chunky pieces of meat, it was the perfect food to restore the canteen¡¯s reputation.


    They were also easy to prepare, which was a lifesaver for the practical exam. Mr Lee made special emphasis on this, discouraging the class from picking more elaborate food items. This crushed Ying Wen¡¯s ambition to bring pizza to the school to dust.


    She had also done her research on tacos, and learnt of its origin: It first came from eighteenth century Mexican silver miners, where they wrapped gunpowder into paper and inserted them into rocks before detonation, also known as a ¡®taquito¡¯.


    Mom couldn¡¯t care less about this stuff, so she talked about this to Dad instead. Or rather, a make-believe version of him that she wrote letters to with her Notes app. In these letters were private thoughts that Mom should never hear, or anything she thought Dad would be interested in.


    Dad was always interested in her. He never grew tired of listening about taco history, he never found her hand flapping weird, and he understood her quest for scientific inquiry when she smoked. But even he thought it was a stupid mistake. Lesson learnt.


    The metal gate rattled. Mom was home. She rushed out to greet her, helping to carry her bags and groceries.


    "Did you do the laundry yet?" Mom asked.


    She should have compromised her coursework. "No, because I had¡ª"


    "First you smoke, and now you stop doing your chores? When did you come back from detention?"


    ¡°Five-thirty.¡±


    "It''s already seven!"


    "I was researching for¡ª"


    ¡°What are you still doing standing here?¡±


    She nodded and ran outside to collect the clothes off the rack. After seeing a viral video of a life hack, Mom demanded that she folded all clothes in that manner, to save time folding it and create better organisational symmetry.


    ¡°You could¡¯ve reached home earlier if you took the train, which would¡¯ve given you enough time to do the chores.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like the train.¡±


    The metal tube of death screamed like a ghost fighting an exorcism and  made her ears bleed. It surprised her how everyone could endure that sonic torture.


    ¡°You¡¯re already Sec 4!¡±


    She bit her lower lip as she folded her clothes. ¡°I¡¯m hungry.¡±


    "You only get your dinner after you finish folding all the clothes and putting it in the closet."


    This was all her fault.


    Dinner came an hour late. Mom cooked egg fried rice tonight, another one of her staples.


    "Your assessments are coming right?" Mom asked.


    She pointed to her full mouth.


    ¡°Tsk! Give me your phone."


    She gave Mom her phone. Mom kept it in her pocket. Why?


    "I''ll give this back to you if you score well on your assessments. That¡¯s your punishment for smoking. Plus, all those phone games are distracting you from your studies.¡±


    Alicia chewed as fast as possible, forcing the food down her throat with a gulp of water. It gave her hiccups.


    "I don¡¯t play video games, and I need it to do my coursework!¡±


    "What coursework?"


    "My FCE coursework! I also need it to talk to my friends, and¡ª"


    ¡°Alicia, enough." Mom put a hand up. "I had a very long day at work, okay? Please."


    Stressed, tired, and angry.


    She frowned and chewed harder than necessary. It hurt her teeth a little. She scrubbed the plates violently, almost dropping it at one point, and locked herself in her room. No more time to research¡­anything, no more time to do her coursework, no more time to talk to her Dad, no more phone calls, no more texting, no more social media, not that she had one¡­ She squeezed her plush, imagining it to be Vinn¡¯s and his troupe of monkeys¡¯ head, until it popped, and their brains oozed out their ears and blood began spewing everywhere, one by one by one.


    Everything was off.

 CCA

    At the last parent-teacher-meeting with Mr Lee, he had one piece of advice for Serena: Understand your child. Armed with the knowledge of their strengths and weaknesses, challenges and conflicts, she could better support Alicia for O¡¯Levels.


    She took Mr Lee¡¯s advice, or at least tried to, with the daily dinner talks. But Alicia was a stubborn clam that would rather die than show its pearl.


    The girl was never this secretive. In primary school, she had to deal with the opposite problem: Alicia wouldn¡¯t shut up. The girl shared every single detail of her day at school without ever losing energy. Foolish Serena back then didn¡¯t know how good she had it.


    However, despite the lack of communication, she had one lead to investigate: Vinn. That¡¯s where Alicia got the cigarette. Patient zero. Whilst her hands sorted cans and packets on auto-pilot, she dug deep for any memory of this classmate. All she remembered was the girl¡¯s despise for him, as she rightfully should have for these gangster wannabes. But if that was her impression of him, why would she follow his footsteps?


    Cheryl dismissed the girls for lunch, and placed the part-timers in charge. She gave them a warning for sitting down during work hours. Food options in this mall were limited. All the restaurants were too expensive, leaving only the lame canteen. They served laksa, that was just a bowl of spicy water, chicken rice that tasted like cardboard, and wonton noodles that would send Alicia into a hissy fit.


    But it didn¡¯t bother her, because she stopped caring about her taste buds a long time ago.


    Unlike everyone, she often brought nothing to the table. She had no husband, no eye for food, and no child worth boasting. Sure, she could lie, but that wasn¡¯t the type of person she was.


    Rather, she only took from the table; parenting advice from Cheryl, food recommendations from Gen, and second-hand affection from Kelly. Though she was the only one who paid attention to the business ideas.


    Her most recent one was about pet-boarding. It integrated naturally into the shop and cost little to implement. Simply re-use the cages once the pet inside was bought. Serena had doubts, considering how poorly the shop took care of its animals.


    That didn¡¯t discourage Kelly though, who drifted off into her notebook as she workshopped the idea. She wished Alicia was ambitious like her.


    ¡°How long is the detention for?¡± Cheryl asked, changing the topic. How she commanded the room made Serena wonder: Was she the perfect manager for the job? Or did the job make her the perfect manager?


    ¡°Two weeks.¡± She sighed in defeat.


    ¡°That¡¯s quite long.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± She took a sip of water, ¡°And yesterday, she didn¡¯t do any of her chores! I had to spend all night doing it for her!¡± She slurped up a long strand of noodle.


    ¡°It¡¯s normal for her age. But whether this is just a phase depends on you.¡±


    Cheryl¡¯s words were sharp enough to prick. It took everyone some time to learn that it wasn¡¯t personal.


    ¡°I confiscated her phone as punishment.¡±


    Was it firm enough? She studied, no, hunted Cheryl¡¯s body language for approval: a nod, a sigh of relief, a smile, anything¡­


    ¡°Good start.¡± Cheryl nodded. Thank goodness. ¡°That¡¯s where all the problems start.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, exactly.¡± She allowed herself to relax.


    ¡°How are Alicia¡¯s friends at school? Maybe she¡¯s been mixing with some bad crowds?¡±


    ¡°She got the cigarette from her classmate.¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± Cheryl snapped her fingers, ¡°So that¡¯s where it came from.¡±


    ¡°But Alicia dislikes him, though. So why would she join him?¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. Just make sure Alicia stays away from them.¡±


    ¡°Mhm. Mhm.¡± She took a huge gulp of spicy water.


    The flavour sat in an uncanny valley of resembling the taste of something, but being too tasteless to do so successfully. Too much of it at once made her gag.


    ¡°Have you already talked to her about this?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. She listened¡­ mostly.¡±


    ¡°Make sure she listens entirely.¡±


    Finishing the last spoon of food, she dabbed her mouth with a tissue and tossed it in the empty bowl.


    ¡°How¡¯s her studies? Usually this kind of behaviour will reflect in her grades.¡±


    ¡°The same. Not scoring, not failing.¡±


    ¡°Good, at least it didn¡¯t drop. But you gotta put in more work if you want her to go to medical school.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    Alicia needed full ¡®A¡¯s for medical school, but three months in, and she had yet to score one. Only a miracle can save this sinking ship.


    ¡°Did her teachers say anything of note?¡± They watch her every day in class. They¡¯ll be the first to detect any problems. In fact¡­¡± Cheryl turned to address the table, ¡°If any of you two have kids, be best friends with their form teacher. They¡¯ll keep you in the loop.¡±


    ¡°I guess I can give Mr Lee a call later. We¡¯re on good terms.¡±


    ¡°Good idea.¡±


    If Cheryl said it was a good idea, it was a good idea. Not even her inner demons could debate against that. She puffed her chest out and sat straighter.


    ¡°Hang in there. It¡¯s just a phase. After that, Alicia will grow up and be a lot easier to handle. I¡¯ve been exactly where you¡¯re at with my Zack, but I managed to beat him into shape! Now, he¡¯s such a pleasant boy.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Being a mother is already really hard. But you are a single mother. Hats off to you, Serena. Alicia has no clue how lucky she is.¡±


    This brought warmth to her eyes, ¡°Thank you so much.¡±


    Lunch couldn¡¯t have ended at a worse time. Cheryl switched back to Manager-mode and hounded everyone back to work. She fed the hamsters while giving Mr Lee a call.


    Mr Lee had detected no problems with Alicia. Her average grades and stellar conduct were consistent, and she was still a pleasant student to teach. At least Alicia wasn¡¯t having recess with him anymore.


    Alicia also haven¡¯t been in contact with Vinn. The two avoided each other like the plague.


    Another trait of Alicia that remained consistent was her introverted nature. Mr Lee would¡¯ve deemed her alienated if not for her active participation in class, and the few conversations she had with her classmates.


    Every teacher of her¡¯s called her that. Introvert.


    But were they right? If they weren¡¯t, they¡¯d know. Better yet, Alicia would tell her. The girl¡¯s track record in socialising wasn¡¯t great to begin with.  She practically had to give the girl a script to avoid embarassing herself in public: smile, make eye contact, shake hands, and give compliments.


    The girl always lacked common sense, or, she suspected, pretended to simply to spite her mother.


    Whatever the reason was, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to help Alicia socialise better at school. Counteract Vinn¡¯s bad influence with a healthy friendship. And what better solution than signing the girl up for a new CCA(Co-Curricular Activity)?


    Right now, Alicia¡¯s CCA was Science Club, but after that Chemistry Lab incident, it was put on hiatus whilst they renovated said lab.


    Serena was over the moon with her ingenious idea. On top of the new CCA, she¡¯d also refresh Alicia on the script whenever she could find the time. She¡¯d have more of it if she worked less, but the numbers told her she couldn¡¯t. Right now, her hours were just enough to pay the bulls.


    Maybe she worked too much. But what other choice did she have?


    Alicia did not vacuum the floor today. Serena groaned as fatigue jabbed her from all sides.


    ¡°My deadline for my FCE coursework is coming, and I don¡¯t have my phone to do it anymore, so I need to write it down on paper, which takes more time¡ª¡±


    She had no time for this.


    ¡°Just be a good girl and do it. I¡¯m so tired! Stop taking bad influence from Vinn!¡±


    She collapsed on the couch and placed a pillow over her head.


    ¡°I want dinner first. I¡¯m hungry.¡±


    ¡°Alicia! Please! Just¡ª¡± Oops. She did not mean to raise her voice.


    Finally, Alicia left her alone to have some peace of mind. But the migraine didn¡¯t. What was it this time? Exhaustion, dehydration, hunger, menstuation¡­ A better question to ask was, where wasn¡¯t it this time?


    She took deep breaths, and closed her eyes. Imagined herself sinking into the cushion, into a dream. She was back home, in the good old days. Ma (Mom) was cooking dinner, with her sister helping her. Her brother was playing poker, or rather his version of it, and Pa (Dad) was reading the newspaper. Biscuit was scratching his face with his back paw.


    But where was she?


    ¡°I finished folding the clothes. I¡¯m hungry.¡±


    Shut up. Go away. Get lost.


    Something shook her arm. The dream ended before it began. The frustration ruined all hopes of sleep returning to her, but she pretended to anyway.


    ¡°Please cook dinner now! I am very hungry! Mom!¡± Alicia tugged her arm harder.


    She smacked her head against the cushions a few times, ¡°Just cook instant noodles, it¡¯s very easy.¡±


    ¡°No it is not. And you said instant noodles are unhealthy.¡±


    Moaning like a zombie, she dragged herself up, and trekked to the kitchen¡¯s peak. She cooked Alicia instant noodles, ignored whatever she had to say about the lack of egg or vegetables, and crashed back onto the couch. Unfortunately, she was no longer sleepy, only exhausted. And she had yet to discuss with Alicia about a new CCA.


    Eyeing the clock, she guessed it had been five minutes since she finished cooking. Once Alicia finished up and went into her room, there was no hope of getting her out. It was now or never.


    Dragging herself back up again, she met Alicia at the dining table. Her hair tickled her face, and blocked her eyesight, but she didn¡¯t care to tidy it up.


    ¡°I have something to¡ª¡± She yawned, ¡°¡ªtell you.¡±


    Alicia did not answer.


    ¡°Did you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then can you respond?¡±


    With a mouth full of rice, Alicia stomped the floor. Off she goes again, making everyone¡¯s life harder with her supposed lack of common sense. Why can¡¯t she talk while eating? Why can¡¯t she get the point? Why can¡¯t she agree?


    ¡°Whatever.¡± The only option forward was to plough on through. She shared her ingenious idea of a new CCA. It helped her socialise. Being alone wasn¡¯t good.


    ¡°I already have a CCA.¡±


    ¡°Science Club is still on hiatus, right? So you don¡¯t have a CCA.¡±


    She went to the school website on her phone and scrolled through the list of CCAs offered.


    ¡°I do. I am in the Science Club.¡±


    ¡°Not technically.¡±


    ¡°Yes, technically. Because it is recorded that my CCA is the Science Club. Otherwise, I would be punished for not having a CCA.¡±


    She took a deep breath to recalibrate.


    ¡°You don¡¯t spend time in your CCA, right?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°So I think it would be a good idea for you to get a CCA that you do spend time in.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    Progress at last! Amongst the list, Basketball caught her eye.


    ¡°Is there any other CCA you¡¯re interested in joining?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°What about a sports CCA? You need to exercise anyway. So skinny.¡± She poked Alicia¡¯s chopstick-like arms.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like sports.¡±


    ¡°Tsk.¡± She read the list aloud. ¡°Netball? Volleyball? Basketball? They have a girl¡¯s team, right?¡±


    ¡°No, no, yes, they do, and no.¡±


    Just like that, progress halted. ¡°Then what CCA do you want to join?¡±


    ¡°None. I am not interested in any of them.¡±


    ¡°Then how are you going to join another CCA?¡±


    ¡°Oh, by getting the CCA form from the general office and filling it up.¡±


    It was like a construction site in her head. She pulled up the CCA list from the website and set it on the table.


    ¡°Whatever. I have no time to argue with you. Look through the list and find a CCA you want to join. Then tomorrow, go fill up the form and pass it to me to sign. It¡¯s in the General Office.¡±


    ¡°We are not arguing.¡± Alicia finished her dinner and washed her plate. Serena laid back down and tried to sleep. But then something came to her, something that she needed to say.


    ¡°Wait.¡± She stopped Alicia before the girl closed her door, ¡°Ever since you were born, it¡¯s just been the two of us, right? So, even if you have no friends or whatever¡­ You¡¯ll always have me.¡± It sounded better in her head.


    Alicia nodded, and went to bed.


    She, meanwhile, had to wash the kitchen utensils and do a quick sweep of the kitchen floor. Then, she realised, right after she cleaned the pot; she had not eaten dinner yet. Most eateries and delivery services were already closed, which meant¡­


    Opening the cabinets, she realised Alicia had eaten the last packet of instant noodles. She wanted to scream. Without warning, her joints screamed for her. Another jab of fatigue, this time striking a pressure point.


    Forget it, she thought, and skipped dinner altogether.


    Usually, the joint pain went as fast as it came, but tonight it lingered. One minute, two minutes, five minutes¡­ That was way too long¡­ Swiftly, she set an appointment with her only friend and doctor, Wei Xiang. He did everything she was supposed to: getting into medical school, graduating from medical school, and marrying the love of his life.


    After everything, only he stuck by her.


    The TV droned on in the background as she slept. She winced every time she tossed or turned, waking up over and over and over again¡­

 Headshot

    The monthly assessments simulated O¡¯Levels in the classroom. A rehearsal for doomsday, a day that wrote their futures in stone. Their grades decided how much of their June holidays they would spend on remedial. Before that, however, was Alicia¡¯s FCE deadline.


    The submission checkpoint was the assessment, alongside today¡¯s practical lesson.


    Alicia¡¯s straight ¡®B¡¯s excelled past the need for remedial, but not the merit of praise. But, thanks to Mom confiscating her phone, her performance dipped. She only had a half-baked solution, which was to draw the document from memory, and write her answers on paper. Mr Lee was unlikely to accept it, but it was better than nothing.


    Furthermore, if Mom refused to return her phone, a hard copy would be her only means of progress. FCE was the last class of today, which left her with recess and downtime in between classes to catch up.


    While she held a sandwich in one hand, she drew tables with her other, using her elbows to hold her ruler in place. Writing in this awkward position required her to lift her elbows, releasing support from her ruler. Without it, the ruler failed at its job, and led her strokes to be crooked.


    She slammed the table every time it happened, set her sandwich aside, and erased the stroke away. But no matter how hard she rubbed, a faint residue of it lingered on the paper.


    The bell rang. Recess had ended. That left only downtime, of which there was none. All her teachers were punctual today.


    Stupid detention. Stupid teachers. Stupid assessments. She sat in the back row with her arms folded in the FCE kitchen. Other students flocked into groups like schools of fishes, laughing over whatever it was they found funny. With limited eavesdropping, her best guess was that they were discussing TV shows and video games.


    How did everyone have so much free time? O¡¯Levels are coming. If Mom ever caught her watching those shows or playing those games, she would be dead meat. Which only begged the question, what were their mothers doing to discipline them?


    At least it brought them together. Meanwhile, the inverse applied to her. What entertained her bored everyone else. No one took their studies seriously. No one cared about what their Moms thought of them. Some of them didn¡¯t even know what a taco was.


    She tried to converse nonetheless, because Mom said it wasn¡¯t good to be alone. She carried her chair to the smaller groups and joined their circle.


    Step one, introduce yourself. ¡°Hi! My name is Alicia! I¡¯m from class 3A!¡±


    The discussion stopped dead cold, and everyone looked at her like a complicated word they found in the thesaurus.


    Step two, wait for a handshake. No one offered one.


    ¡°Uh¡­ Hi.¡± One of them said, and they all turned away from her.


    Step three, give a compliment. ¡°Your keychain looks nice.¡± She pointed to a bag under their chair with a cartoon keychain hung on the zipper. ¡°What are you discussing?¡±


    ¡°Um, just some show.¡±


    ¡°What are you looking at?¡± She craned her head forward and saw a phone, switched on during class hours. The audacity!


    ¡°Hey! You¡¯re not allowed to use your phones during class!¡±


    Now they looked at her the way she looked at Vinn, pulling their chairs away from her.


    ¡°Mr Lee would confiscate your phone if he catches you using it.¡±


    ¡°Oi.¡± One of Vinn¡¯s monkeys kicked her chair. Luckily, their leader wasn¡¯t here. Vinn took Literature as his elective. ¡°Shut up.¡±


    ¡°That warning applies to you as well!¡±


    Everyone avoided her like the plague. Their funeral. Mr Lee entered, and everyone hid their phones behind every nook and cranny they could find: in their pockets, under their legs, inside their uniforms. Mr Lee caught none of them.


    Except her.


    ¡°Alicia, please put your chair back in its original spot. You¡¯re blocking those behind you.¡±


    ¡°Okay, sorry Mr Lee.¡± She returned to the back row. In a world that made sense, the inverse would¡¯ve happened. But alas, she did not live in that world. So how did everyone else made sense of it?


    Today, Mr Lee would teach the class how to cook carbonara. But only students who had submitted their coursework were allowed to join.


    Those who hadn¡¯t, stayed in the computer lab until they did, and their parents were called.


    Mr Lee brought the entire class to the computer lab and instructed everyone to show their coursework on their screens. Upon his approval, they¡¯ll make their way back to the kitchen one by one and form into pairs of two while waiting.


    She flapped her hands under her chair. Spaghetti was her second favourite noodle.


    ¡°Um¡­Mr Lee.¡± She approached his desk, staring at his sneakers.


    ¡°Alicia, where¡¯s your coursework?


    ¡°I um¡­ So¡­ My Mom confiscated my phone because of the smoking incident. So I can¡¯t work on my coursework, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Look me in the eye when you¡¯re talking to me, Alicia.¡±


    She nodded and looked at his eyes. It hurt. She opted to look at his bag behind him instead, ¡°But I copied the template you sent us on foolscap, and I can write my answers down in a few minutes.¡± She showed him the hard copy. ¡°Can I still do the practical lesson please?¡±


    ¡°Alicia, didn¡¯t I say to inform me if anyone had trouble doing their coursework online?¡±


    ¡°You said you would only offer help if I provided a valid reason, and having my phone confiscated is not a valid reason. Is it?¡±


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    ¡°You should have still told me. I could¡¯ve let you use the computer lab some time after school to finish it.¡±


    ¡°I have detention after school.¡±


    He sighed, ¡°Now do you understand the consequences of picking up bad habits like smoking?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Can I still do the practical lesson, please?¡±


    ¡°If you finish early, you can come back and catch up with the rest.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°And I want to talk to you after your assessments.¡±


    She nodded and returned to her desk, and raced to finish her work as fast as possible. Stretching her back and retying her hair back to the centre, she honed her focus on the keyboard to type faster.


    Only Alicia did her work. Everyone else formed crowds and played video games together. Did the school not blacklist them all? Were they not disappointed over missing the practical lesson?


    Forget about them. She could already smell that sweet aroma of cheese in her nose. She entered her password and got to work, bobbing up and down to keep the adrenaline pumping. But the computer denied her energy with the dreaded buffering symbol.


    Loading, loading, loading¡­


    Was she not connected to the Wi-fi? The Wi-fi symbol in the bottom corner was on full bars. When the crowd behind her grew especially loud, she flinched and cupped her ears on reflex. What were their ears made of?


    Loading, loading, loading¡­


    She slapped the screen. Smacked it, punched it, slammed it. She pressed every key on the keyboard, then again whilst holding ¡®Shift¡¯, ¡®Ctrl¡¯ and ¡®Alt¡¯. Nothing. Technology was such a paradox: such exponential advancements, yet it couldn¡¯t load a website. Clearly, the Wi-fi was connected! Unless the computer lied to her?


    Loading, loading, loading¡­


    There was no teacher in class to ask for help, only delinquents. She prepared herself and approached the screaming table, flinching every time they screamed. It was like walking to, but not away from, a fire. Like a ghost, no one noticed her unless she moved their things about.


    ¡°Hi.¡± Her muscle memory almost led her to use Mom¡¯s method. But, she learnt the hard way, Mom¡¯s method did not work on delinquents. They were playing those shooting games, where people fired guns at each other and screamed if they killed, or got killed. How did they get the Wi-fi to work?


    ¡°Can anyone here help me with the computer? I¡¯m unable to do my coursework, the website keeps buffering.¡±


    ¡°Sucks to be you.¡± The one on the computer, Joseph, snickered.


    Nevermind. She gritted her teeth and looked around. Who else could she ask? Besides the screaming tables, only Kat was left, sitting all the way back with both feet up.


    ¡°Hi.¡± She tried again.


    Kat also ignored her. Why did everyone do that?


    ¡°Could you help me with the computer? I¡¯m unable to do my coursework. The site keeps showing me a buffering symbol.¡±


    ¡°Too bad.¡±


    ¡°Please? No one else will help me.¡±


    She tensed up, like a bomb resisting detonation. Four years of this nonsense, and it still wasn¡¯t any less frustrating. This behaviour didn¡¯t qualify as bullying, and thus didn¡¯t warrant a complaint to the teachers. That was the worst part.


    She did anyway, and all Mr Lee advised was a visit to the school counsellor, and a tip to be more friendly in her body language, whatever that meant.


    ¡°Kay and?¡±


    ¡°Please!¡± She raised her voice, ¡°I need to complete my coursework so I can join the practical lesson! Just cooperate with me for once! We¡¯re classmates!¡±


    ¡°Just use your phone''s hotspot.¡±


    ¡°My Mom confiscated my phone. And you¡¯re not allowed to use your phone during class!¡±


    ¡°Then too bad.¡±


    She rubbed her temples. This was a dead end. There was only one move left to make. It was a long shot, but it was the only one she had.


    ¡°I smoked a cigarette during recess last week during school hours. And I would do it again without hesitation. I am a smoker!¡±


    ¡°What? Dude, can you leave me alone?¡±


    Forget it, it did not work. Go figure. She returned to her desk and held a staring contest with the error screen. The longer she stared, the more she imagined herself smashing this computer to smithereens. All the glass shattered. All the electronics fried. All the wires snapped.


    With nothing else to do, she typed in the site address for the game. Mr Lee wasn¡¯t here anyway. She could get away with it this one time. The site booted up. How? She typed in her name when asked and was directed to a  ''Sandbox'' mode, where she was the only player.


    Click. Shoot. The screen jerked a little. What was all the fuss about? The bullet left a little black dot on the concrete wall. Scrolling down, she read the lengthy instructions on the controls. It was all gibberish to her.


    Then Kat sat beside her. What now?


    "It¡¯s so fucking cold back there." She said.


    "I agree. But the IT staff said not to change the temperature of the air-conditioner." She pointed to the remote on the teacher¡¯s desk.


    ¡°Oh, there it is!¡± Kat took it, and upped the temperature. ¡°Much better.¡±


    ¡°I said the IT staff¡ª¡±


    "You play it too?" Kat looked at her screen. "Why are you in Sandbox mode?"


    No, it was the first time she played it; she wanted to answer. But a sixth sense stopped her. She added a fourth step to Mom¡¯s method: lie to have something in common. Lying was bad, a voice argued. But this was the only way; another voice rebutted. She listened to the latter one.


    "Yes. And I''m in Sandbox mode because the Wi-Fi isn¡¯t working."


    "Oh, right, your phone got confiscated. Ha-ha. Wanna 1v1?"


    ¡®1v1¡¯. She had a vague understanding of what it could mean.


    "Yes. I do."


    "Just use my hotspot."


    Hotspot. Wi-fi. Ten minutes to dismissal. Everyone was eating their carbonara. She could do her coursework. Or she could play the game and befriend Kat.


    She entered a private match with Kat, one against one. Oh! That''s what ''1v1'' meant!


    "It has been a while since I played this game. Could you remind me how it works?"


    "You know I can tell you''re lying, right?"


    "I''m sorry for lying."


    But to her surprise, Kat did not leave. Instead, Kat went over the controls, pointing to them as she explained, as if Alicia had never seen a keyboard before: ¡®W¡¯, ¡¯A¡¯, ¡¯S¡¯, ¡¯D¡¯ to move. ¡®G¡¯ for the grenade. ¡®Q¡¯ to switch weapons. ¡®R¡¯ to reload. Shift key to crouch. Right click to scope¡­


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Try to hit me.¡±


    Kat¡¯s avatar, a military soldier dressed in camo gear, hopped left and right in a zigzag pattern. No human person could jump like that so effortlessly. This game had no respect for physics.


    Kat hounded instructions on her. Shoot, reload, dodge. It came faster than Alicia could process them, and before she knew it, she died. Her avatar flew across the building and crashed head-first into a wall. The screen turned red.


    Respawning in 5¡­4¡­3¡­2¡­1¡­


    Her avatar respawned in the same spot. Adrenaline helped her focus.


    She tried the scope. The screen honed in on Kat like an eagle. A circular vignette outlined the screen, and two lines ran across its diameter. Kat explained that the point where those lines intersect was where the bullet landed. She also gave this advice: aim where the opponent would be, not where they were presently.


    Her finger hovered over the mouse. Her eyes waited for the perfect moment. Her heart stopped beating.


    Click.


    Crimson splashed out the head of Kat¡¯s avatar. The body glided across the floor as if the grass was secretly ice. Got her!


    ¡°Headshot!¡± Kat screamed, pumping her fists into the air. A classmate came over to check the commotion, and gave Alicia a thumbs-up.


    ¡°Again! Again! Again!¡± She flapped her hands. Kat drummed the table in similar excitement.


    "By the way, there''s a mobile version of the game. When you get your phone back, go download it." Kat said, moving back into position.


    This time, Kat would try to kill her.

 Back of Her Hand

    Serena took Alicia¡¯s phone out from her bag, and the wallpaper glowed to life. A plate of delicious tacos. If only this mall served food this good. She knew Alicia¡¯s password, because she was her mother, and had her fingerprint registered.


    But should she use it? If she did, she could see what her dear Alicia was up to, and find patient zero. Yes, Vinn had a bad influence, and the girl was lonely, but that wasn¡¯t the full answer. A sixth sense only mothers had told her there was a final piece left to this puzzle. She might be wrong, but there was only one way to find out.


    Plus, nothing to fear, nothing to hide, right?


    She hovered her thumb over the scanner. All she needed to do was to press it. It could be a brief glance. A quick scroll to find glaring red flags. With the abysmal state of her memory, it was unlikely she¡¯d remember it, anyway. It would take less than a minute.


    Technically, this phone was hers to begin with anyway, since she bought it.


    Everyone voted in favour of perusing. Cheryl had this anecdote to share: After a look through Zack¡¯s phone, she discovered he had a girlfriend in class, resulting in his sudden insolence. However, thanks to her gamble, she quashed it in time and set her boy back on track. Now, he is doing better than ever.


    Cheryl also had an analogy. To perform CPR, all clothing must be removed from the patient¡¯s chest. There was no time to respect their privacy.


    It was for Alicia¡¯s own good.


    She pressed the screen. It unlocked. Quick glances only, she told herself. No suspicious apps; a good sign. The girl only had chats with her teachers, and her class group chat. Her contacts only listed her family and teachers. No classmates. Where were her friends? And most importantly, where was Vinn?


    The new CCA was the right move.


    Then she found the red flag she feared most in the girl¡¯s search history. Cheryl was right. ¡®What is nicotine?¡¯ , ¡®What does nicotine taste like?¡¯, ¡®What other substances contain nicotine?¡¯. The devils of the internet poisoned her girl.


    Thank god she confiscated it.


    She scrolled further back, past the queries about tacos. A timeline formed in her mind, starting from these search results to when Alicia smoked. It all happened in a month.


    It got worse: ¡®Kaplan Higher Education Academy¡¯


    ¡®Business course Kaplan¡¯


    ¡®Nursing course Kaplan


    ¡®Nursing course Kaplan student list, 2000.¡¯


    ¡®Kaplan student drug addict article, 2000¡¯


    ¡®Kaplan directions, google maps.¡¯


    He had infected Alicia.


    How deep did this go? She went into her gallery, scrolled through all her photos. Went into voice memos, which were empty. Went into emails, found nothing but spam. Went into ¡®Notes¡¯, found nothing, checked the ¡®Bin¡¯ folder, and she cracked the case.


    It was a diary addressed to him where Alicia wrote about her day as if chit-chatting with him. A day before the incident, she asked him what cigarettes tasted like. .


    Did she send these? To who? Him? That¡¯s impossible, because after he left, he vanished like a ghost. No contact from him to anyone, not even his beloved family. To a scammer pretending to be him? Would that dupe Alicia? Was Alicia that gullible?


    She was a smart girl. Yet, she often wasn¡¯t. Serena knew her too well to rule out that possibility.


    She checked Alicia¡¯s emails to find spam again: advertisements, promotions, school announcements¡­


    Nothing in her ¡®Spam¡¯ folder. Nothing in the ¡®Bin¡¯ folder. Nothing under any other tabs. She checked Alicia¡¯s call log: only calls to her and Ms Lee. The girl was clean. Too clean.


    There were only two plausible answers. One, Alicia outsmarted her, and kept this channel of communication secret, which meant the girl saw this coming. She expected her mother to snoop on her phone. Did that say more about Alicia¡¯s guilt, or hers? No time to think about that.


    Two, she didn¡¯t send these to anyone, yet. She was saving it for the day she finds him. Either way, this was an emergency. Thank god she listened to Cheryl.


    She took a photo of all the evidence and presented it to her only ally at her appointment: Wei Xiang.


    In the heart of a mall overdue for demolition, his tiny clinic stood tall. This angel of a man was the closest thing to a father Alicia ever had, and the girl adored him. She loved the check-ups, the chatting, and the herbs in his office. Sometimes, she slept better on the examination bed than on her own.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    The only thing the girl hated was the mall. Metal grills locked the stores in the shadows. The lights flickered and buzzed so loudly that it warranted concern. Yet the napping security guards gave no such concern.


    It was a horror film. One that Alicia dared not watch.


    The worst amongst them all was the barbershop, which had rows of mannequin heads staring into their souls, deciding if they were to be haunted, or left alone. Serena was ashamed to admit this spooked her, too.


    She brisk-walked through it and made it to his clinic before they floated off the shelves.. ettling down, instincts led her palm on a tiny cushion used to check pulses.


    ¡°How was work?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Shut up.¡± She said in mock outrage. He chuckled.


    ¡°What is it this time?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Probably walked too fast when going to the general office to get Alicia.¡±


    He did the check-up routine: Pulse, normal. Blood pressure, a little high. Exercising, none. Eating healthy, trying her best. Triggers to use again, none.


    Then the elephant in the room. He placed a finger on it. She yelped.


    His eyes shot wide.


    ¡°Ouch! Why did you press it so hard? Are you trying to kill me?¡± She complained, massaging the pain away. It was like being injected from the inside out, without anaesthesia.


    He pressed her hand with the strength of a firm handshake.


    Gulp. She looked at the floor.


    ¡°I¡¯ll find time to jog, okay? I promise.¡±


    ¡°Is Alicia still doing chores?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s beginning not to.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Teenagers.¡± She sighed.


    He placed a hand on her shoulder, then swivelled to his chair and typed on his keyboard, which sounded more like a typewriter. No, this did not signal to him it was time for an upgrade.


    She recalled the second elephant in the room. ¡°I have something I need your help with.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Here.¡± She showed the photos to him. Studied his face.


    His lips pursed. Lines formed on his temple. His eyebrows went up and down.


    He handed it back. ¡°Did she send it out?¡±


    ¡°How could she? He disappeared.¡±


    ¡°So, she didn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Or! She¡¯s getting scammed. But I looked everywhere, and I can¡¯t find anything. Do you know if there¡¯s some app that can send messages in secret or something?¡±


    ¡°How are you so sure that she¡¯s sending this to someone? Maybe she just uses it as a diary. Nothing wrong with that.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s also been trying to search for him again. And if it¡¯s just a diary, why address it to him? And why delete it?¡±


    He looked through Alicia¡¯s phone too. Search history, text messages, emails, call log¡­ That same pit-of-the-stomach dread crept over him.


    ¡°Can you help me talk to her about this?¡±


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you ask her yourself?¡±


    ¡°She trusts you.¡±


    ¡°She trusts you, too. And this is your private family affair, Serena.¡±


    He placed his hands up. Swivelled back to his desk to receive the prescription slip from the printer. Also in desperate need of an upgrade.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to talk to her about¡­ him.¡±


    He passed her the slip and more painkillers. She took one and flashed her puppy-dog-eyes at him.


    ¡°This Saturday.¡± He said reluctantly.


    She bowed profusely. What a lifesaver.


    ¡°What else has been going on with you?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Besides work¡­ Anything else going on?¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°What have you been doing besides work?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. What is there to do?¡±


    He leaned back, giving her that look, as if she was a starving child in Africa.


    Ugh, as if she needed the reminder.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to learn the guitar lately.¡± He said.


    ¡°Do you know how expensive guitars are?¡± She knew what he was doing.


    ¡°Tsk¡­¡± He gave her the other look. The I¡¯m-talking-to-a-wall look. Sometimes, the glass was half empty. Sometimes, Fate won. That¡¯s life. But to those which Fate favoured, that¡¯s stubbornness.


    The room fell silent.


    ¡°If you need help¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can handle it.¡±


    ¡°Yi Shan¡­You don¡¯t have to live like this.¡±


    If only she lived in a world where that was true. If only he knew such a world was impossible for people like her.


    ¡°You can¡¯t make me unless it¡¯s a code red. We shook on it.¡±


    He definitely had a lecture ready to go, but spared her.


    Everyone would find their life¡¯s ceiling one day. Fate would slap them in the face and put them in their place. No, she would not become a doctor. No, she did not have time to learn the guitar. No, Alicia won¡¯t stop being a teenager.


    It was a rude awakening at first, but over time, she grew to know it like the back of her hand.


    It didn¡¯t surprise her that Alicia had not signed herself up for a CCA yet. In fact, she already took a form herself before, and filled it for the girl on the way home. Table-tennis, every Friday, three to five. Alicia threw a tantrum, but she had no time to entertain it. The girl only had herself to blame.


    She, meanwhile, only had time to laze on the couch with the TV on. A random thought came to mind: Why did Wei Xiang used guitars as his example? Why not make it more relatable and suggest baking? It was her family tradition, after all.


    Ah, who cares? She went to sleep.

 Hang Out

    Checkpoint two of Alicia¡¯s coursework had begun. The business proposal, the six-month projection, and the interview. Amongst the three, she dreaded the interview the most. It was encouraged to be an hour long, and done in groups to save the vendors their time.


    Which meant she had to talk to her classmates. Again.


    With great reluctance, Alicia dragged herself to desk after desk to ask for help, starting with Faizah. Girls would be easier to persuade, right?


    Step one, introduce yourself, except Faizah already knew who she was. But how else could she start the conversation? Step two, handshake. Her classmates didn¡¯t do handshakes. Step three, compliment. This step was still viable, at least.


    ¡°Nice earring, Faizah.¡± She started, forcing herself to look Faizah in the eye. Her glasses did not complement her face at all. Made her look like a grandma.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Faizah raised a brow.


    ¡°Would you like to form a group for FCE and interview the vendor together?¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ um¡­¡± Faizah scratched her head. ¡°Sorry, we¡¯re already in a group.¡± She pointed to her circle of friends.


    ¡°May I join¡ª¡±


    Faizah turned around.


    Strike one.


    For the first time, she empathised with her classmate¡¯s complaints. As if this wasn¡¯t hard enough, there was still the issue of her confiscated phone. Mr Lee gave a band-aid solution, and offered to open the computer lab for her whenever he was available after school, usually on Fridays.


    Table-tennis was on Fridays.


    The second classmate to ask was the one who bonded with her of their own volition: Kat. If she played her cards right, Alicia could even befriend her.


    Turned out, Kat also had recess alone. Alicia seized the opportunity and sat next to her. Kat did not object to this; good start.


    She skipped to step three, compliment. She studied Kat. Twice her size, round figure, wearing PE attire. It was against the dress code to wear one¡¯s PE attire outside of PE. Kat balanced her phone on her lap and watched dog videos in secret.


    ¡°Your dog is cute.¡± Alicia started.


    A teacher walked past. In one swift motion, Kat sandwiched her phone under her thigh, only pulling it out once said teacher was gone.


    ¡°Would you like to do the vendor interview together, as a group?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a group I could join?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t have a group.¡±


    ¡°I could form a group with you!¡±


    ¡°Nah, I don¡¯t care.¡±


    Alicia cringed. If Mom ever caught her talking like that, she would have a stroke. Did none of her classmates cared about their mothers at all? How ungrateful!


    ¡°What about your mom? She would be so disappointed in you if you failed your O¡¯Levels.¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Yes, she will. All her hard and money will be wasted. She will be so upset!¡±


    ¡°Ha. My mother isn¡¯t like that.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Mom once told her a bedtime story of a thief. His mother never punished him for stealing, but congratulated it. As time passed, the thief wound up in jail for his crimes. When his mother came to visit, the thief bit her ear. He scolded her for failing to raise him right.


    ¡°Please stop slacking off and take your studies seriously! O¡¯Levels are coming! Your grades on your O¡¯Levels would determine the course of your entire future! If you don¡¯t study now, you¡¯ll end up making mistakes you regret forever!¡± Her heart pounded her ribs. Her breath ran short.


    ¡°Nah. I¡¯m lazy.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re saying!¡± What does laziness have to do with obedience? Wasn¡¯t it more exhausting to break the rules than follow it?


    To be fair, following the rules also took effort. It was like trying to force a cap on a water hose, firing at maximum strength. Everything that came to mind had to be analysed: Is it disrespectful? Is it bothersome? Is it weird?


    Alicia understood why someone would be too lazy to do said analysis. But alas, she was not that someone. She was not lazy.


    ¡°May I borrow your phone? I need it to do my coursework, since mine was confiscated.¡±


    ¡°Shut up. I¡¯m eating.¡±


    Another person who hated talking while eating. Interesting.


    Strike two.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Everyone changed into their PE attire the moment they returned from the Chemistry Lab. Those who wished to save time changing wore their PE attire underneath their uniform beforehand. Those who wished to waste time changing took a leisurely stroll to the toilet.


    ¡°Hi Ying Wen.¡± She asked the girl closest to her. ¡°Would you like to¡ª¡±


    Kevin, her boyfriend, wrapped a hand around her waist and they strolled to the toilet to waste time. Romantic relationships were against the rules, and a major distraction from their studies.


    Strike three.


    She was the only one still in class, still in her uniform. Changing as she ran, she madee it to the soccer field on time. She loathed PE to hell and back. Mr Kumar¡¯s bloodcurdling whistle, and his military sergeant voice. Sports.


    The monkeys found their jungle.


    Mr Kumar was holding an inter-class soccer tournament today, where two teams went head to head in a bracket for the grand prize of a Kit-Kat bar. The other teams, meanwhile, sat and watched. One match only lasted for ten minutes. Ten minutes on the field was tolerable.


    After spending ten minutes covering her ears and standing idly in the corner, she went down the benches to ask the rest of her classmates. Amongst those who bothered to answer, it was an unanimous no.


    Strike ten-ish? She lost count.


    She sandwiched herself between Kat and Ying Wen and watched the match. The ball flew left and right, left and right, then into the net, and everyone cheered. It was the same deal as smoking; so much fuss over nothing.


    "Hey, wanna stay back after school today? 1v1 again?" Kat asked, nudging her to Ying Wen''s side.


    Today was the last day of detention. If only Kat asked her tomorrow. But wait, didn''t Kat have detention as well?


    "Don''t you have detention?"


    "Eh, I''ll just skip it."


    "They¡¯ll give you more detention! And a second disciplinary warning. And they''ll call your mom!"


    "Oh my god, forget it!" Kat rolled her eyes.


    "I could play with you tomorrow."


    "I''m not free tomorrow. I have art class."


    "Oh."


    If she played with Kat, she could befriend her. Once befriended, she could persuade her to group up and do the interview. That was the solution for her FCE coursework.


    If she skipped detention and they caught her, which they will, Mom will be heartbroken. She would have a second disciplinary warning and risk expulsion. If she was expelled, she would ruin her entire future, and end up like Mom.


    Her heart raced again. She couldn¡¯t fathom it; a ruined future. But her attempts always brought tears to her eyes. Bad grades, equated to bad schools, equated to bad crowds, equated to bad jobs, equated to bad money, equated to poverty, equated to homelessness, equated to starving, equated to drugs, equated to the worst mistake of her life, equated to death. Tale as old as time.


    Stop it. If she cried here, everyone would laugh. Think about tacos instead. That annoying whistle sliced her ears like carrots. It was time for the last match.


    The lazy didn¡¯t think of all this. The lazy hung out and laughed with their friends. The lazy enjoyed soccer..


    She was the only one writing her reflection essay in detention. Though she stopped double-checking when the Gloomy Gus stopped marking it.


    He watched them like a security camera running on low power. Panning left and right with eyes wide open, but fully asleep. How could Kat evade this?


    Kat raised her hand. Was she about to do it? "Can I go to the toilet?"


    "Make it quick."


    Kat slung her bag over her shoulder and left. That¡¯s it? Alicia shook her head in disbelief, watching the Gloomy Gus. Even he must care about this. Right?


    Just to assure her it wasn¡¯t a dream, Vinn and his friends followed Kat¡¯s lead. They all regrouped at the soccer field right outside.


    The unthinkable entered her mind. She couldn¡¯t stop shaking her legs. It was just one more day, though. Surely Kat would be available after tomorrow. But tomorrow was the start of her assessments, and she hadn¡¯t revised enough for it. She needed to spend the next week cramming.


    Truth be told, the cramming made no difference. If it did, it would''ve by now. Air weighed on her as she thought of it, braced herself for it. The migraines, the lethargy, the black eyes, only to realise a week later it was all for nothing.


    After her assessments would be the June holidays, separating her from Kat for a full month. After the June holidays would be Checkpoint three of her coursework. After Checkpoint three of her coursework would be prelims. After prelims would be doomsday.


    Kat was only free today. Alicia raised her hand.


    "What?" He asked.


    "May I go to the toilet?"


    "Make it quick."


    She slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped out. Her eyes studied the Gloomy Gus through the window; he didn¡¯t even look up. Oh my god, she got away with it! Or did she? Maybe he took a mental note of it to report to Mr Xun?


    Turn back now. She searched the library; Kat wasn''t there. Turn back now, they''ll call Mom again. She searched the basketball court; Kat wasn''t there. Turn back now, Mr Xun will give you a second disciplinary warning. She searched the front gate and found Kat next to a golden retriever.


    Aw, she has a dog!


    She ran to Kat. "Would you still like to play the game together?"


    "What? I thought you were in detention?


    "I skipped it.¡±


    "But won¡¯t they give you a second disciplinary warning."


    When someone like Kat was the voice of reason, it meant that she should listen. It was still salvageable if she turned back now. The typical period excuse would bail her out.


    "I''m joking." Kat chuckled. ¡°Wanna pet him? He doesn¡¯t bite."


    She nodded and flapped her hands. In front of Kat, in front of the public. Oops. She kept her hands by her side.


    The dog approached her with a wagging tail and a tongue stuck out. This creature was incapable of experiencing sadness. Such a concept  was incomprehensible to such a being. There were only sunshines and rainbows in his little head.


    Mom taught her the way to approach dogs ever since young. Meet them at eye-level, place a hand out for them to sniff. Patience, patience, patience. Once they come closer, she may pet them.


    Minty came closer. She petted him. The majestic golden coat scratched a tactile itch and carried an irresistible magnetism to it. She never wanted to stop hugging him.


    "His name is Minty."


    "Hi Minty!"


    He licked her face. She sealed her eyes and mouth shut, then wiped the saliva away with a tissue after he was done.


    "Oh, and we can''t play, since you don''t have your phone and I can''t bring him into school. If you told me earlier that you were gonna skip anyway, I would''ve just let my father keep him. Oh well." Kat shrugged.


    ¡°Your father?¡± Her chest stung. ¡°How is he like?¡±


    ¡°He just left for work.¡± Kat pointed to a black car sat before the red light as an ocean of students crossed back and forth.


    ¡°Does he listen to your thoughts about things?¡±


    ¡°I guess? I dunno. Anyway, we can still hang out, have lunch. Did you try the cup noodles at the mama shop before?¡±


    Her eyes sparkled. ''Hang out'' was a term only friends could use. To ¡®hang out¡¯ was to do activities of friendship together after school. Although such activities were never specified, it was understood.


    Except, of course, by her. But she pretended to, to keep things smooth.


    Mom would be so proud of her.

 Him

    Serena regretted setting the appointment at Saturday, on Saturday morning. Yawning and rubbing her eyes, she dragged the half-asleep Alicia out of bed and drove an hour to his clinic. Please, for the love of god, re-locate.


    Alicia loathed her music. The girl found it cheesy and alienating. When she was in the car, Serena could not play it. The silence made the journey last longer.


    When they arrived, Alicia ran head first to the examination bed and continued napping, as if she owned the place. She cleared her throat as a warning.


    Alicia ignored it.


    ¡°Are you forgetting something?¡± She pointed to Wei Xiang.


    ¡°My phone is in my pocket!¡± Alicia quipped back.


    Clever. She went to pinch her ear, but Wei Xiang stopped her.


    ¡°She¡¯s tired. Just let her sleep. I¡¯ll talk to her later.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bad habit.¡±


    Alicia wiggled about in the bed, trying to find the spot. Serena never quite understood what the appeal of that rock-solid mattress was.


    ¡°How are things with you?¡±


    ¡°Tsk! There¡¯s no time for that. Go wake her up and talk to her.¡±


    ¡°I want to talk to you, too.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?¡±


    He leaned in. Placed both hands on the table. ¡°Have you been thinking about it?¡±


    ¡°When am I not thinking about it?¡± She forced laughter.


    He gave that look again.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    He surrendered with both hands up. ¡°I¡¯ll call you when we¡¯re done talking.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°She deserves privacy. Plus, she won¡¯t feel safe enough to open up with you here.¡±


    She walked out with folded shoulders. Decided to buy the girl a drink in the meantime. But where? Everything was shut down. She climbed up the broken escalators and worked her way through the second floor. Toy shop, salon shop, masseur, another toy shop, another barber shop, tech shop¡­ What were they talking about? The curiosity was unbearable.


    She hated how much he treasured privacy. Legally, she had a right to knowbecause Alicia was a minor. But Wei Xiang stance was clear: Alicia¡¯s words were confidential unless not doing so brought danger to herself or others. She couldn¡¯t protest this, because she trusted him to have Alicia¡¯s best interests at heart.


    She only prayed that he kept the real story a secret. Only the parts she told could be discussed. Everything else was a pandora¡¯s box that should never see the light of day.


    Especially not by young, na?ve Alicia.


    He said hi first. One innocent day at Kaplan, he came to thank her for the pineapple tarts she made and brought over Chinese New Year. Turns out he studied the same course as Wei Xiang, the course of her dreams she was still grieving over. Pa said the one-in-a-million chances of success made it a foolish gamble; expensive too. Ma was worse, doubting the integrity of medicine altogether, and wished to protect her from its brainwashing.


    He offered to share what he learnt with her, which became a monthly thing. A weekly thing. A daily thing. Might as well have lunch before studying, breakfast before studying, dinner after studying. Might as well study at his place for convenience¡¯s sake. Might as well stay over, get drunk to celebrate their stellar grades, and wake up on his chest.


    Ma and Pa objected, as they did with everything. But this time, Serena grew a spine. This time, she dug her heels in and held her chin up high. And, just to rub it in, she made their romance public enough for them to watch. The sweetness of revenge paired excellently with the thrill of true love.


    Star-crossed love.


    Ma and Pa retaliated. They threatened to drag her out of school and send her back to the village. Curse her with the life of a bland housewife. Match her with one of the neighbour kids; the tried-and-true way.


    Serena retaliated. She brought him back home and performed a theatrical show of their ¡®break-up¡¯, culminating in him storming off and hiding by the backdoor. At the stroke of midnight, she sprung the trap. When they least expected it, she snuck into their room and ransacked the safety vault empty. She did the same with her siblings¡¯ piggy banks, then took the quietest escape route through the window.


    He caught her luggage bag to minimise the ruckus the best he could. Used all his willpower to resist yelping in pain. But with her, he was effortless and graceful. This was the moment to end the episode, with sappy music and slow-motion as the credits rolled. His gaze took all the air out of her.


    They will never look back again.


    Which made this the moment to start the next episode. Metal rattled when they stepped into the street, leaving her frozen solid. She took a deep breath and calmed her nerves, because she was ready for this. Ma would scream. Pa would tell her to listen. Jie would repeat Ma¡¯s words. Di would cry. She was ready for this.


    No one said anything. Footsteps followed, growing softer, not louder. They were walking¡­ away? No sounds of slippers. He hurried her to leave before they restrained her. A part of her wished they did.


    A full minute passed like this.


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    Pa broke the silence. ¡°If you want to be a doctor, you can. If you want to marry him, you can. We were wrong to stop you.¡± Each word was wet and shaky. Toothpicks on the verge of snapping.


    ¡°Yi Shan, di yi ming (Yi Shan, number one)!¡± She didn¡¯t see, but she knew Pa was crying.


    Pa locked the door, and they never looked back.


    If Wei Xiang disclosed anything past this point, she would murder him.


    Wei Xiang called. It was her turn. Alicia left with similar reluctance. She gave the girl some money to buy herself a drink if she found one.


    ¡°What did you tell her?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t do it, Serena. This is your family business, not mine.¡±


    She threw her hands up.


    ¡°It¡¯s not my place.¡±


    ¡°Yeah! Yeah! Whatever! Thank you for respecting my boundaries!¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s just curious about her father, Serena. She¡¯s not a kid anymore, she has questions. And it¡¯s your job to answer them, not mine.¡±


    ¡°Never.¡± She dragged the word out. ¡°Never!¡±


    She collapsed and let the chair take her. Her eyes were moist.


    ¡°You okay?¡±


    ¡°I hate you. You know that?¡± She sniffed and wiped her eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault. You¡¯re just trying your best.¡±


    He was always so good at making her cry.


    ¡°I have to drive Alicia home later.¡± Her heart began to shatter.


    ¡°Not until the day it sinks in.¡± He placed a hand on her¡¯s. A hand that was two decades heavy.


    The tears flowed without permission. Cracks formed over her heart. She stifled her whine, worried that Alicia might hear. No matter what she did, it just wouldn¡¯t stop.


    ¡°You don¡¯t¡ªyou don¡¯t know what actually happened.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you do either. Because any sane human being would agree that it¡¯s Not Your Fault.¡±


    Random things flooded her mind. Cheryl. That polaroid of Alicia in her wallet. The horrid ¡®laksa¡¯ at the hawker centre. Customers who made her lose faith in humanity. The stupid vacuum that had no business being so loud. That one weird spot on the couch that hurt to sit on. The row of dead pixels on the bottom of the TV screen¡­


    ¡°Then why am I the only one being punished?¡±


    He nodded. Rubbed her hand with his thumb. Leaned forward to show that he was teary-eyed, too. Said everything without a word.


    ¡°I¡¯m so fucking tired¡­¡± Her heart shattered.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this alone.¡±


    ¡°Who the hell is gonna help me?¡± She exclaimed, ¡°Or some doctor in a chair forcing me to remember all this shit every week? As if that¡¯ll do anything!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better than letting it all bottle up inside you. I hate seeing you like this.¡±


    ¡°Ha! Then maybe you should see me less.¡±


    He leaned in further. She rested her head on his chest. ¡°You don¡¯t need to live like this. You can escape this.. If you can escape him, you can escape anything.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t escape him.¡± She clarified, ¡°He abandoned me. And Alicia!¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t tell Alicia about this. Please¡­¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t. You deserve privacy.¡±


    She hated how much he treasured privacy.


    Alicia came back, clueless as ever, no drink in hand. But the idea didn¡¯t escape her, and she begged to have drinks together. Serena was too exhausted to drink, so she drove home.


    ¡°Do¡ª¡± Her throat was drowning in sand. She tried to clear it, to no avail. ¡°Do you want to eat some cookies after dinner?¡±


    Cookies were comfort food. For bad days and bad cramps.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Alicia sounded normal. Did Wei Xiang even bring it up at all?


    ¡°When are your assessments starting?¡±


    ¡°It starts on Monday.¡±


    ¡°And when do you get your results?¡±


    ¡°A week after I finish all my papers.¡±


    ¡°Okay. If you score well on those assessment tests, I¡¯ll give you your phone back.¡±


    ¡°Ok!¡± Alicia flapped hands.


    ¡°Do you want to buy the ingredients with me, or go home?¡±


    ¡°I want to go home.¡±


    Sigh. ¡°Okay.¡±


    She took a detour to drop Alicia home and headed to the grocery store. Ma forced the entire family to bake pastries for Chinese New Year every year. Jie was her right-hand man, while she was the trainee who shadowed them. Pa and Di were delivery-men.


    It would¡¯ve irked her more if she loved pineapple tarts. But that was a mediocre pastry. The superior one by far was cookies. A bite-sized taste of heaven. Easy to keep, easy to share.


    The comfort that cookies provided was two-fold. One the flavour, obviously. Two, the batter. When she mixed it, two lines spiralled out from the centre, one clockwise and one anti-clockwise. They orbited each other until the edge in a never-ending loop. Ying and Yang.


    This comfort was impossible to put into words. But if she must, she¡¯d compare it to meditation. It sent her into a trance, into a place of tranquillity. That peace that came from flowing water, falling leaves, and gentle breezes. In this moment, there was only her and the batter. Spiralling, spiralling, spiralling¡­


    The fear of over-mixing the batter overpowered her reluctance to leave the trance. So, the peace ended, and the batter went in the oven.


    Alicia took after her in this way. Right as the oven lid shut, the girl raced to her side and sat before the oven, eyes laser-focused on the tray inside. She said the humming was melodic, and the batter rising was magical.


    "Alicia. It would take forty-five minutes."


    "I know."


    Silly girl. She chuckled. It was unfortunate that most would find this weird.


    Forty-five minutes later, Alicia dragged her out of bed to collect the cookies. She was too scared to do it herself. Serena washed her face and packed them all in a spare tupperware container before putting it in the fridge.


    Cookies are best eaten cold.


    "We¡¯ll eat it after dinner. You can have three at most, otherwise you¡¯ll get fat!" She poked the girl¡¯s stomach, or rather the lack of one.


    ¡°I want it now!¡±


    ¡°Mm, fine!¡± Serena gave her one.


    Alicia took a bite. Flapped her hands, which was weird.


    "I love it!" She cheered. "If cookies were healthier, I would¡¯ve chosen it for my coursework!"


    "Huh?"


    "My FCE coursework required me to choose a food and propose to sell it in the canteen. But it had to be nutritious."


    "Pfft! You think these would sell in your canteen?"


    "Definitely!"


    "Okay. Good girl." She ruffled Alicia¡¯s hair. kissed her noggin, and helped her re-tie it before she complained. Somehow, that evolved into a tickling fight over the couch that left them laughing until their bellies hurt.


    Then a light bulb went off in her head.


    Alicia searched the channels for something to watch, and settled with a medical drama. Serena couldn¡¯t help but nitpick the show to death from what she vaguely remebered studying on her own.


    She also couldn¡¯t help but do a bad habit only mothers have, which was to turn everything into a lesson. Today¡¯s lesson was patient confidentiality, and the reason why the nurse should¡¯ve been arrested for giving the main lead his ex-girlfriend¡¯s medical files.

 Improvement

    When Alicia told Mom about Kat, Mom was not proud. How dared she play video games now? Half a year before doomsday, a day before her assessments? Now was the time to study, study, study. Everything else can, and should, come after.


    O¡¯Levels were coming.


    Video games were addictive poisons that rotted the developing mind. Mom predicted Kat to be a rowdy juvenile that skipped classes and used foul language; Alicia refused to admit Mom was right.


    But Mom was right.


    ¡°And if your dad were to hear about this? He would smash your phone on the floor!¡± Mom scolded.


    This touched a wound.


    Mom wasn¡¯t done. ¡°I didn¡¯t work hard every single day, cooking your food, washing your clothes, and dealing with your attitude just to have you waste it on video games!¡±


    Mom still wasn¡¯t done. ¡°How are you going to get into JC like this? Or get into a good uni? Or get a good job? And earn yourself a good life? You want to end up like me? Straining your back every day for minimum wage?¡±


    She wanted to cry. Mom still wasn¡¯t done. ¡°You know how my manager keeps her son in line? She canes him! Do you want me to go buy a cane? Do you want me to cane you? When did this start anyway? You were such a sweet girl before! What happened?¡±


    Mom was done.


    Alicia said nothing. She started a revision paper to keep the dam from bursting.


    ¡°You better be studying in there!¡±


    English was the first paper of the week. Last night, she read and re-read all the model essays Mdm Lim provided, and chanted the vocabulary used to herself like a mantra. The more she used the merrier. But when she placed ink on paper, it was all lost to the fog. She only remembered the word, but not its definition or spelling. What costed more marks: An incorrect vocab word, or no vocab words at all?


    During recess, she consulted her notes. As the prophecy foretold, she used all her vocabulary wrongly. There went her ¡®A¡¯. Locked in a bathroom stall, she stared at the pink door until recess was over.


    When she stepped out, she saw Kat by the sink, washing her hands in a similar silence. Cheeks red, she ran to class without saying a word.


    Mom shared this advice, ¡°You should have spent more time on English then, if it was your weaker subject.¡±


    Math was second. She stared at circles and triangles for hours over midnight, heeding Mrs Fei¡¯s warning that this topic would be challenging. That funny looking ¡®n¡¯, pi, why was it only associated with circles? Come to think of it, why did no other shape have a ¡®pi¡¯, radius or diameter? Weren¡¯t they all just symbols used to measure lengths, and don¡¯t all shapes have length?


    God, she hated numbers.


    At least her memory cooperated this time, allowing things to run smoothly until the last page. A graph question. Mrs Fei had only spent one period (half-an-hour) covering this topic, and misled everyone to focus their attention on circles. Worse, this graph question was worth five marks.


    God, she hated Mrs Fei.


    Mom took a look at her textbook. ¡°What¡¯s so difficult about this? When I was doing my exams, we weren¡¯t even allowed¡ªwe don¡¯t even have calculators back then.¡±


    History. She remembered the events, but not the dates. Chemistry, she ran out of time to write her answers, because Mr Will mandated everyone wrote a paragraph for every open-ended question. A paragraph, Mr Will added, must be at least three sentences.


    FCE written paper. She had forgotten about, thanks to the sinking ship that was her coursework. Chinese, the worst; she didn¡¯t speak it often for a good reason.


    Kat, the rebel, dared ask her to hang out after every paper. Obviously, she declined, but still offered herself fifteen minutes with the dog before going home. Watching Kat cross the street with Minty through the bus window everyday tied her stomach into knots.


    ¡°You remember my manager? Her son, Zack, got like top five in his cohort or something like that. Why can¡¯t you be more like him?¡±


    Though ungraded and untested, table-tennis caused her headaches as well. The coach also had the Death Whistle hung around his neck, which he used with no mercy. Every session followed the same structure: queue forever, play with the coach once and receive his feedback, and reserve the spare tables to play with your friends.


    Long-winded, micro-managing, and stinky breath; no one enjoyed playing the coach. They all brawled each other in the queue to get ahead, wanting to rip the band-aid off sooner. Childish alliances and cliques, social contracts to save spots whilst one went to the restroom followed by betrayals, all whilst drenched in sweat from the dead air.


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    Coach didn¡¯t allow fans or air-condition, as the wind affected the ball. Everyone drank from the ice-cold water cooler like men trapped in the desert. The lunatics amongst them took it a step further to shower in it, or shower their friends with it, and waiting for the afternoon sun to dry it off them. It was like doing laundry whilst wearing the clothes and forgetting the detergent.


    Alicia developed a strategy to endure this hellhole. After the coach¡¯s briefing, she escaped to the restroom and waited a full minute, then joined the queue last. Waiting for her turn ate up half her time there, whilst she spent the other half with a worksheet and pen in hand, revising behind everyone¡¯s back. Her unpopularity came in handy.


    But, in such brutal conditions, her brain fried. She used it anyway, because O¡¯Levels were coming.


    Her final paper, Social Studies, went fine. Afterwards, she allowed herself to hang out again. Crossing the street and watching the bus leave tied her stomachs into knots. But said knot loosened as soon as it was her turn to play Cyber-Strikers. Rather than 1v1s, Alicia and Kat took turns beating Campaign Mode on the hardest difficulty.


    Against Kat, the Sniper was decent. Against these programmed enemies, the Sniper was utter perfection. With mock outrage, Kat would beg her to play any other class, but that ship had sailed ever since Alicia¡¯s first headshot.


    No matter what she did, Mom¡¯s nagging wouldn¡¯t leave her alone. As she landed headshots, she worried about her future. As she hid behind walls, she worried about her grades. As she reloaded her gun, she felt the disappointment everyone had in her.


    The madness was multi-layered. One, listening to the same thing repeatedly would drive anyone insane. Two, the futile task of countering these rational concerns fried her brain. It killed her to admit that deep down; she knew they were right.


    It distracted her enough to lose the game, but she still beat Kat¡¯s high score.


    Kat cheered with the pure joy of Minty. ¡°So close! Agh!¡± She slapped the table, ¡°Ha. I¡¯m so proud that I got you to play video games. The goody-two-shoe.¡±


    She lost it. Let Kat think she was a mental patient. She didn¡¯t care anymore. She screamed into the sky, walked in circles, punching Mom¡¯s voice out of her head.


    ¡°Holy shit! Chill!¡± Kat was horrified. The last time this happened, they chased Mom out of the fish market. Mom tried to shut her up by out-screaming at her. It felt so loud that she was worried it might turn her deaf.


    The dam broke. Maybe the reason her behaviour led to people thinking there was something wrong with her was because there was something wrong with her.


    ¡°Shit¡­ crying!¡± Kat walked in circles, too. The mirrored behaviour brought an odd comfort. ¡°Um¡­ deep breaths. Please.¡±


    She was in no mood for deep breaths, only screaming. Kat dragged her to somewhere. Wherever that was, it was quiet. She needed quiet.


    ¡°Hey, hey¡­ look at me,¡± Kat said, brushing her hair away from her eyes, ¡°Minty, go.¡± The dog snuggled up against her. She hugged the canine for dear life, shedding tears into its fur. .


    ¡°Follow how I breathe, look¡­¡± Kat inhaled whilst counting to three, held her breath for three, and exhaled for three long seconds.


    She followed, and after about five breaths, found her senses returning to her.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She covered her face, rubbed the tears away the best she could. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with me. I swear. I know it looks weird¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s fine! No shit, there¡¯s nothing wrong with you.¡±


    She laid her head on her knees and apologised to the world.


    ¡°Are you diagnosed?¡±


    ¡°With what?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t mean this as an insult, okay? I only ask this because I have it too. I swear I¡¯m not being an asshole.


    She nodded.


    ¡°Are you autistic?¡±


    ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s¡ªnevermind, just breathe.¡±


    She nodded, and ontinued crying, continued apologising.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Kat sat next to her.


    Alicia processed where she was; on the floor of a void deck, leaned against a wall.


    ¡°Everyone is disappointed in me.¡±


    While Kat processed, Alicia gave Minty, who laid on his back, scratches on his belly.


    ¡°Dude, who the fuck cares? What¡¯s so good about pleasing them, anyway? What do you even get out of that?¡± Kat imitated Mr Lee, ¡°Class, be more like Alicia.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°You think this shitty neighbourhood school¡ª¡± Kat pointed to their school across the street, ¡°¡ªcares about anything besides your grades? You think they care about tacos?¡±


    Tacos? She flapped her hands.


    ¡°I saw it on your screen in the computer lab. It¡¯s a pretty good idea¡­ could replace the sandwich machine.¡±


    ¡°Yes! And it¡¯s finger food, so it is convenient and delicious to eat!¡± Her eyes sparkled, ¡°And different cultures have different ways of making a taco, like soft shell or hard shell, and the fillings¡­¡± She droned on for a full minute.


    Kat nodded, then shared the time she had tacos.


    She flapped her hands more.


    ¡°You know there¡¯s a reason why no one in class gives a fuck, right?¡±


    ¡°What about¡ª¡±


    ¡°And those who do, such as you, are miserable.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ just¡­ be lazy?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! Fuck it!¡±


    She whispered under her breath, ¡°F it.¡±


    A week later, her results showed no improvements. Worse, it declined; a ¡®C¡¯ for math. Mrs Fei mandated remedial lessons over the June holidays as punishment. Luckily, the decline ended there. It seemed this was another straight flunk.


    Until she received her history paper. 74/100. To achieve an ¡®A2¡¯ grade, she needed 75 and above.


    As petty vengeance, she suffocated the paper within, and not inside, of her files, jamming it at an awkward angle to leave ugly creases and tears.


    She did not do any corrections. She only chatted with Kat about Cyber-Strikers. F it.


    That night, she skipped dinner to rip the band-aid off sooner. Mom turned on the lavender air refresher by her nightstand, which always made her sleepy. Tonight, she was wide awake.


    She gave the report book with both hands and drew circles on the mattress whilst Mom read it. Kat had this to say about it. ¡°It¡¯s just one mark. No one cares! Trust me, your mother will understand. Just talk to her.¡± Oh, how desperately she wished this was true. But alas, she knew¡­


    Mom wouldn¡¯t understand.

 I Dont Care

    Serena took a day off today. She didn¡¯t tell anyone, nor invent a valid reason for it. Instead, stayed in bed, staring into the ceiling like she looked at abstract art. Confusing yet mesmerising. The bland, uniform white resonated with her, almost as if it was sending her a message she had yet to interpret.


    Every ceiling she¡¯d ever seen was white. At Motel 91, the ceiling had water spots and mould forming in the corner. At work, the ceiling was divided into grids, lit by equally white lamps. At home, the ceiling housed spiders and wasps in every nook and cranny, and protected refugee mosquitoes from death.


    Get up. Shower, eat breakfast, either go to work, or seize the off-day to get ahead on groceries, pay the bills¡­ But her body did no such thing. It believed its time was up and rotted on the mattress to return itself to Mother Nature.


    This was enticing.


    But the acid burning in her stomach did not. Inch by inch, step by step, she dragged herself to the bathroom like a corpse washed ashore. Showered, made coffee, and sat in the golden rays of sunlight. It betrayed her muscle memory to sip her coffee, as opposed to chugging it.


    The smoky aroma never failed to wake her up. Sunlight was a nuisance most of the time, blocking her eyesight and cooking her skin medium rare. But, in these rare moments, it was a sauna that detoxified the negative energy clotting her blood, and recharged her with its golden embrace.


    How would Fate judge Alicia? Often, it took an entire childhood¡¯s worth of data for it to make a verdict. She had detected signs of both rulings, good and bad. Smoking; a bad omen. Her unwavering diligence; a good omen. But said diligence was losing. Over her dead body, would she let that happen.


    The best omen she saw came in Alicia¡¯s childhood. For reasons beyond human comprehension, baby Alicia insisted on reading the medical textbook Wei Xiang loaned her for bedtime. The child clumsily flipped through the pages until the topic of ¡®DNA¡¯, then smacked the page, showing her piqued interest. Serena obliged and read it for bedtime. It worked like a charm.


    Any word with over three syllables made Alicia laugh.


    This omen remained as she grew. Her wide-eye excitement whenever she visited Wei Xiang, her curiosity to smell every herb and taste every medicine. Raising a doctor may be as noble as being one.


    She had already found the JCs and universities Alicia would enrol in, and set up the accounts to save for her school fees. Of course, she shouldn¡¯t enforce her broken dreams on the girl, which made it an eternal blessing when Alicia herself wished to study medicine. Serena promised herself to allow the girl carve her own path, choose her own speciality, and become the doctor she wanted to be. She will not be like Ma and Pa.


    Doctors earned high salaries. Alicia could have an adult life free of worries over rent, bills or taxes. That¡¯s paradise.


    Doctors are attractive. Who wouldn¡¯t want to marry them? Not only do they have a head start, they also had no bumps. Alicia could live without being single and heart-ache. That¡¯s paradise.


    Doctors had money to take care of their retired parents. Once Serena reached her golden years, she would be well taken care of. That¡¯s paradise.


    All this was perfect. All this was decades away. There¡¯s nothing she could do now but wait. She went back to bed. Continued rotting.


    She did it again tomorrow. Cheryl criticised her lack of communication. Gen gave a ¡®Get well soon!¡¯. Kelly asked what¡¯s wrong? She didn¡¯t answer, because there were no words to explain this.


    It was time to confront Alicia on the letters. Wei Xiang was right. This was her job as a mother, and no one else¡¯s. Enough procrastination. Rather than rotting mindlessly, she rotted whilst rehearsing.


    The talk needed to tackle three problems. One, how does she conceal her crime of snooping through the girl¡¯s phone? If Alicia caught her red-handed, it would be all the girl talked about. The conversation would go nowhere.


    Two, talking about him always carried a risk of piquing Alicia¡¯s curiosity further. A mysterious parent who vanished from the face of the earth? It was a mystery that begged to be solved.


    Three, how to talk about him without sharing the real story. She decided Alicia was still too young to hear it. Her weird hand flapping, stubbornness to possess basic respect, and lack of common sense sparked zero confidence in the girl¡¯s maturity to handle it.


    Alicia wasn¡¯t ready.


    As the girl did her assessments, Serena tried again and again to broach the topic. But all she managed was to cower behind a tired nag. It was like jumping into an icy lake; no matter how she jumped, it would be freezing.


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    Even Fate got annoyed at her cowardice, and instigated Alicia to take the lead. The girl dragged her into her own bedroom, demanded she turned the air refresher on, and requested a talk.


    She was doing the hand-flapping thing again. ¡°My results for my assessment tests returned!¡± She handed her the report book. ¡°Look!¡±


    How is that possible? ¡°I thought you said they took a week to mark it.¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± She shook herself awake and checked her phone. Her jaw dropped; it had been a week. What the hell happened from Wednesday to Sunday?


    ¡°Look at my results!¡± Alicia rubbed her knuckles together.


    Did that mean what she thought it meant? Math, ¡®C¡¯. The curse persisted.


    ¡°If you look at my history paper, I¡¯m¡ª¡±


    ¡°A ¡®C¡¯ for Math? Your results got worse?¡±


    ¡°Mom, my history paper¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do I look like I¡¯m talking about your history paper right now? How did your math grade decline! I thought you said you focused on what Mrs Fei told you to.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but she didn¡¯t tell us about the graph question at the back. And she only spent a single lesson going through it. That¡¯s not fair!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t blame your teachers for your own laziness!¡± She scoffed. The nerve of teenagers never failed to disappoint her. ¡°Stop making excuses already! You think the JC cares about that?¡± She tapped the ¡®C¡¯ violently.


    Alicia placed her hands behind her back and stared at her feet. Silent as she should.


    ¡°And look at what Mr Lee wrote! ¡®Alicia has been increasingly distracted, chit-chatting with classmates during lessons and failing to submit homework assignments on time.¡¯ Hm? What¡¯s that about?¡±


    ¡°But Vinn¡ª¡± Alicia cut herself off.


    Serena rubbed her temples. The migraine came right on schedule. ¡°Why can¡¯t you just¡ªWhat¡¯s the problem? Do you need help?¡±


    Alicia remained motionless.


    ¡°Do you want tuition?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then what other suggestions do you have in mind to fix this?¡±


    She dropped the report book on the mattress and asked the girl for solutions multiple times. Alicia had nothing to say. Alicia remained motionless.


    ¡°And what about your FCE coursework? Did you catch up? Or will Mr Lee talk to me again?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have my phone¡ª¡± the girl mumbled, thinking she wouldn¡¯t get caught.


    ¡°You dare to ask for your phone back right now? When you scored a ¡®C¡¯ for math? You¡¯re joking, right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. I¡¯m taking this seriously!¡± The smart aleck protested.


    ¡°You dare to get clever with me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not! I¡¯m stupid!¡±


    She shook her head and folded her arms. The parasite of immaturity chose Alicia as its host, feeding off her for its stubborn survival. It blinded the girl with this obtuse superiority complex. It left her feeling smart, and growing dumb. The best host to infect was the stupid one.


    It left Serena in a proverbial checkmate. She had no choice but to move on.


    ¡°I have something else to talk to you about.¡±


    Alicia nodded.


    Problems one, two, and three remained un-tackled. But the ¡®C¡¯ demanded her to confront this now. Now or never. She revealed Alicia¡¯s phone from her workbag, and opened the ¡®Bin¡¯ folder.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    Alicia went whiter than the ceiling. Whipped her head away.


    ¡°Hey!¡± she shouted, made Alicia flinch. ¡°Look at me when I¡¯m talking to you! How many times do you need me to say this? Until the day I cough up blood? What Is This?¡±


    ¡°Mmm¡­.¡± The girl whined like a kettle trying not to explode.


    ¡°I¡¯m upset too, Alicia. It¡¯s not just you! Be honest with me, and we can get this over with quickly. I just want to know whether you¡¯ve sent this to anyone.¡±


    Alicia shook her head like a toddler at vegetables.


    ¡°If you think you found him, you haven¡¯t. Whoever out there that you think is him is a scammer. He¡¯s pretending to be him and gaining your trust. And with your trust he will ask you for money or naked photos! You know that, right?¡±


    Alicia nodded. Whined louder.


    ¡°Did they ask for money? Or naked photos?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Alicia dared shout.


    ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t you dare shout at me? I gave birth to you! You better show some respect! I¡¯m so sick and tired of your attitude. How do you think you can make any friends in class when this is how you talk to your own mother?¡±


    The kettle exploded. ¡°I was one mark away from getting an ¡®A¡¯ for my history paper! Why won¡¯t you ever listen to me? Why can¡¯t you just be proud of me? I¡¯m stressed!¡±


    ¡°You think you¡¯re the only one who¡¯s stressed? Huh? Have you ever considered how I feel about all this?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ªMmm¡­ I don¡¯t care! I don¡¯t care! I don¡¯t care! Fuck it!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re cursing? You learnt it from that Kat, right? Right? You really wanna end up like me?¡±


    ¡°Fine! I¡¯ll just end up like you! I don¡¯t care anymore! Fuck it!¡±


    A fragment of the kettle struck her heart. Red exploded in her eyes. Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. Sixteen years of lost time, of back and joint pain, of unbridled misery¡­ Sixteen years spent under these white ceilings¡­ all to be cursed at. As if she was junkie scum, a crushed up cigarette by the side of the road, a waste of space. The nerve, the audacity, the disrespect, disrespect, disrespect!


    Something broke in Serena tonight.


    She pounced at the devil girl and squeezed the life out of her left ear. Using it as a leash, she dragged the devil girl into the car and pumped the gas.


    ¡°You don¡¯t care? Fine. Fiiine. Fine With Me. Let your dear mother teach you where to start!¡±


    Alicia screamed, begged and pleaded madly. But Serena heard nothing in this car; only the singular voice in her head telling her where to go.

 Motel 91, Pt 1

    Where was Mom taking her this late at night? Didn¡¯t she have work tomorrow, and didn¡¯t Alicia have school tomorrow? The city whizzed past so fast she couldn¡¯t discern any sign or banner. An invisible force glued her to her seat as the car bobbed up and down. Isn¡¯t this past the speed limit?


    On the sharp turns, it threw her around like a pinball. Alicia imagined this to be a mild simulation of an F1 drive.


    Mom should start lecturing about now, but she did not. She remained silent; too silent. At a red light, Alicia read a street sign that informed her she was in the central area of town. This corroborated the half-an-hour Mom had been driving for.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± She asked, pushing a boulder of voice up her throat. It came out dry and coarse.


    Mom said nothing.


    Fuck it. She turned away. Mom wouldn¡¯t listen. Mom wouldn¡¯t care. Mom wouldn¡¯t understand.


    So why bother? She was too lazy to talk.


    Then Mom turned away from the skyscrapers. Old shop-houses replaced them, stretching as low as three storeys. Wooden windows replaced glass ones, which revealed the sorry state of the flats inside, and those who lived in them. Bedrooms with only a mattress and a standing fan were common. All the lighting came from fluorescent bulbs, an outdated invention, and laundry hung over them.


    These streets were one power outage away from annihilation.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± She pushed another boulder.


    Was the drive the punishment itself? Were they going to Malaysia? Dear god, was Mom tossing her to the goblin cousins? The boulder dropped to her gut, sloshing its juices about.


    She tried every trick in the book. First, agreeing. ¡°I understand it is wrong to be writing letters to Dad, because Dad is a horrible person! And I should¡¯ve told you those things instead, because you are my mother, and you deserve to know things about me!¡± followed by the smoking gun, ¡°I should¡¯ve shown you more respect, and be more grateful to all the sacrifices you made for me. I love you.¡±


    Mom didn¡¯t turn around.


    Second, apologising, ¡°I¡¯m sorry for writing letters to Dad. I¡¯m sorry for getting angry at you. I¡¯m sorry for talking back, and showing you my attitude. I¡¯m sorry for misbehaving, I¡¯m sorry for my poor grades, I¡¯m sorry for not studying hard, I¡¯m sorry for being a bad girl! I will never talk to Kat or play video games again. I¡¯m sorry!¡± She bowed her head.


    Mom didn¡¯t turn around.


    Third¡­ promising. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯ll behave! I¡¯ll show you respect! I am grateful for everything you¡¯ve done for me! I love you Mom! I love you!¡± She panted, ¡°I don¡¯t want to end up like you! I will never end up like you! I will study hard, get good grades, get into medical school, and secure myself a good future! I will get married to a good man and give your grandchildren! I will make you proud, I promise!¡±


    Mom didn¡¯t turn around. Why wasn¡¯t this working?


    Stores began closing. Metal grills pulled down, lights shut off, doors locked. It was like the creepy mall at Dr Wang¡¯s clinic all over again. She swallowed a ball of air. Mom had been driving for a full hour.


    Someone along the streets lit a cigarette. A junkie. Her lips quivered. ¡°I¡¯m scared! I want to go home! I want to go home! I want to go home now!¡±


    Mom, say something, please.


    ¡°I love you, I love you, I love you!¡±


    The car crawled to a stop. They were here; whenever here was. All she could see was two giant numbers blinking so rapidly that it hurt her eyes to look at, ¡®9¡¯ and ¡®1¡¯. Ninety-one. Ninety-one what? It took her a second to identify this structure as a hotel, those dirty ones she saw in movies.


    A gang of dishevelled people played the vending machine like a band of instruments at a concert. The roof was the drums, the buttons were the keyboard, and the poster was the bass.


    ¡°Are they junkies?¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡± She killed the engine.


    Wait, what? They were getting¡­ out? She gulped again. Heart skipped a beat.


    ¡°Get out of the car and walk one lap around the motel.¡±


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    What? ¡°No! They¡¯ll hurt me!¡±


    ¡°Or¡­ I¡¯ll check you in for a night, and leave you here until tomorrow morning. Out. Now.¡± Mom banged the window.


    ¡°They¡¯re dangerous people! I¡¯ll die!¡±


    ¡°Out.¡±


    She shook her head as fast as she could and hid herself in her face.


    Mom went back to silence.


    ¡°I understand! I know my mistake! I should work harder, I should behave more, I should take things seriously! I am a disappointment! I am bad, I am weird, I am skinny¡­ I should eat more¡­ I am a failing student! I am terrible!¡±


    Without the air-conditioner, the air became like viscous hot glue. Gooey swabs of humidity stuck to her skin, yet it was cold to the touch. Meanwhile, the body inside was red hot. Did she need to warm up or cool off?. From her periphery, she swore she saw a rat come out from the sewers below and ran behind the trash bin.


    Said trash bin overflowed with plastic bags, styrofoam boxes filled with uneaten food, infested with ants and flies, and unfolded cardboard boxes surrounding it. It wasn¡¯t a trash bin anymore, it was a landfill.


    Tears flowed again. She knew Mom hated that. ¡°Please¡­ Mom¡­¡± She tugged the devil woman¡¯s arms and looked into her eyes. There was nothing in them. ¡°Please¡­¡± If she stood even one foot out, those junkies would circle her like vultures and kill her. These people preyed on young flesh like her¡¯s, because they were perverts, Mom said so. The drugs made them murderous: long-term use of nicotine significantly increased the likelihood of violence, self-directed or towards others. Science said so.


    She tugged Mom harder.


    ¡°I¡¯m counting to three.¡±


    ¡°No! No! No!¡± The tugging became thrashing. Arms and leg crashed against the window, the seat, the seat belt. If she cried hard enough, displayed enough fear, Mom would bother. This had to be a trick, right? A scare tactic. A ruse. There was no way Mom would let the junkies have her, right? She loved her. She said she would do anything to protect her. She wouldn¡¯t break that promise, right?


    Right?


    ¡°Three.¡±


    Right?


    ¡°Two.¡±


    Right?


    ¡°One.¡±


    ¡°MOM!¡± She shireked. She wasn¡¯t religious, but she prayed to god to save her.


    Mom got out of the car, came to her side, and dragged her out by the same ear. That wrinkled hand suck its claws deep into the lobe, threatening to puncture it. Her feet dragged across the stone-cold gravel, cutting across all the loose rock in the way. The smell of the landfill slapped her, evoking a gag. Not wishing to vomit, she held her breath. They reached the front desk.


    She screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Until her throat hurt, until her voice went, until it felt like bleeding occured. Someone here must be normal. Someone here must have the basic human decency to save a poor girl in trouble. Someone here must come rescue her.


    Mom dinged the bell. The security guard took their own sweet time to wake up and stretch. No one would save her. No one cared. No one bothered. Not her teachers, not her classmates, not Kat, not her cousins, not her aunties and uncles, not Mom. No one.


    She had to rescue herself. Fuck Mom.


    But first, she had to calm the earthquake inside her, using the deep breaths Kat taught her. A moment of calm arrived after five-or-so breaths, which was more than enough. Alicia sprung into action.


    A jaw against a claw. She unhinged her mouth and sunk it into the wrinkled hand. Mom yelped, screaming profanity in chinese and hokkien, and released her grasp. Freedom.


    She picked a direction and ran.


    ¡°Alicia!¡± Mom screamed and chased after her.


    Keep going. Even if her chest exploded. Even if needles stabbed both ends of her stomach, penetrating further with each step. Even if the air smothered her.


    The path slanted up and down, which was contrary to her muscle memory that expected her legs to land flat. The split second discrepancy was like a jumpscare, resulting in a flinch that threatened her balance.


    She made turns at random junctions, complicating the way back until it was beyond her. Mom¡¯s voice faded after the fifth, but she only felt safe after the tenth. Acid ate her stomach as a replacement dinner. Against her will, she decelerated.


    There was traffic again. Cars zoomed left and right. Their honks shrieked into the night sky. Louder than the MRT at this distance, louder than Mr Kumar¡¯s Death Whistle. It was enough to turn her deaf.


    A Ferrari sat closest to her by the red light, flaunting its engine for all to hear. This caused a harder flinch, which sent one foot in front of the other, sending her to the floor.


    A second pulse formed in her forehead. It supplied pain, not blood. The left ankle shattered into a million fragments, contained within the surrounding muscle and skin. A different fragment poked her with each force exerted.The black smoke from the engines smothered all the air in the world, choking her out.


    The traffic lights did a thirty second countdown as pedestrains crossed. Every article of clothing she wore was soaked in sweat and tears. The natural dirtiness of the floor left faint spots of brown and gray across her legs.


    The world kept screaming, screaming, screaming.


    She ducked into a fetal position, doing all she could to pull its voice out of her head. Punching it, pulling her hair, stomping her foot, all three at once. Nothing worked. It wouldn¡¯t stop.


    Only one face stood against the sea of chaos. That devil woman. Her wrinkled claw, her vacant eyes, her mother. Her mother who raised her, changed her diapers, cooked her wonton noodles, tied her ponytail perfectly, bought her a phone, held her close when she had nightmares¡­


    Why would she do this?


    Alicia knew the why, she just didn¡¯t want to admit it. Behind the frenzied hair, her face tried squeezing both eyes out of their sockets.


    The traffic light turned green. The ferrari revved its engine again.

 Motel 91, Pt 2

    On Serena¡¯s wrist, there was a fresh imprint of the girl¡¯s teeth marks. She blew on it like Ma used to, to help the pain. As she ran down the streets, she stopped every minute to rub her joints and discern where to search next. She had a distinct memory the girl making a sharp left, but at which junction?


    The plan was picture-perfect in her head: bring Alicia to the front desk, let her panic, then bring her back to the car. Lesson learnt. Never in a million years would she think to account for biting.


    But as long as she found Alicia, she could salvage the lesson. If a child touched a boiling pot, their finger would burn. The burn will fade in a few months¡¯ time, but the fear will not. Fear was the best teacher.


    It seemed unlikely that Alicia ran this far out, so she returned to the car park to start over. Maybe the girl remembered her advice for getting lost: g back to the spot before we separated and stay put.


    She didn¡¯t. Serena doubted her memory. Did Alicia turn left? She pointed in the direction she remembered to double-check; yes, it was a left. Did Alicia turn at all? She swore she remembered the girl disappearing behind a wall. Did Alicia turn earlier or later than she remembered? She had no way to tell.


    The junkies by the vending machine cracked the cheat code and scored themselves a round of drinks: Kick the bottom left corner where the logo was on the poster. They had product on them. Ants crawled all over her. Saliva welled up. Adrenaline oozed everywhere.


    Her chest felt it the most; that feeling beyond words only addicts understood. Hunger, except it didn¡¯t hurt. Itching, except it didn¡¯t tickle. Butterflies in her stomach, except it wasn¡¯t exciting.


    The world became unbearable to live in: air was exhausting to breathe, clothes were humid and restrictive, bones and muscles begged to retire from her body. There was only one way back to comfort and into paradise.


    No, no! She promised Wei Xiang on this. If this indescribable feeling ever cropped up, call him. This was a code red. He promised to drop everything, and move heaven and earth to protect her and Alicia from herself.


    But if she called him now, he would never let it go: Why did you bring Alicia here? What were you thinking? Why didn¡¯t you try the first five google results on ¡®How to talk to your daughter and remind her that her missing father is a terrible person and the consequences of smoking at such a young age?¡¯. Go talk to someone. Ask for help. Everything you are doing is wrong. .


    She gritted teeth, and ignored the ants, the butterflies, the adrenaline. A droplet of sweat rolled across her back.


    She called Alicia. No answer. Then she remembered it was in her handbag because she had confiscated it. Idiot. Horror stories flooded her mind, telling tales of unspeakable dangers that fell on the girl if she didn¡¯t find her. Taken advantage of. Sold to another country. Forced into a gang. Forced into taking product. Beaten into a bloody pulp.


    It was enough to cause a heart attack. But if she had one, she¡¯ll never find Alicia. So she slapped herself out of it and approached the front desk for help.


    The man pointed left.


    ¡°Have you seen a¡ª¡± He went back to sleep.


    She went left as instructed, and found the main lobby? This was new. For a moment, it fooled her into thinking this was a quality hotel, worthy of at least three stars. The velvet red couches by the waiting area looked comfortable to sit on, as did the wooden chairs by the cafe. A line of gold ran under the counter, attended to by no one. Dinging the bell summoned no one either. She gave the wait thirty seconds maximum, before she broke in to knock on the door of the backroom.


    Said door had blue light peeking through the bottom gap, indicating staff inside. Thirty seconds was up; she hooked one leg on the counter.


    The door opened. ¡°How may I help you, ma¡¯am?¡± A Malay lady exited. Serena unhooked her leg, almost tripping.


    ¡°My daughter is missing. Could you please help me find her?¡± She put her hands together and bowed her head low. ¡°She¡¯s only sixteen, and I¡¯m really worried she might¡¯ve got herself into trouble.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing with your daughter at a place like this in the first place? Are you aware that this area is dangerous, especially at night?¡± She read the lady¡¯s nametag: Dania.


    ¡°Please.¡± She bowed again. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry for troubling you.¡±


    Dania went back into the room, briefed her coworkers on the pitiable situation, and came out with them. The same beige hijab made them look like clones from afar. She could only see differences in their clothes if she hunted for them.


    They obliged, thank god. Everyone split up into pairs and searched the area. Everyone asked the vendors and passer-bys still in the area for the missing girl, and received nothing of help.


    Dania paired herself up with Serena and asked her for information instead. ¡°What were you doing here with your daughter, if I may ask?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a private family affair.¡± She rushed through her words, Avoiding Dania¡¯s gaze was easy thanks to her shorter height.


    ¡°Here? What family affair do you have in this area?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s private.¡±


    ¡°How did you lose her?¡±


    ¡°I think that store is open.¡±


    She pointed to a thrift store ahead with its lights on. It sold girly dresses and skirts that Alicia would rather die than wear. The vendor didn¡¯t see anything.


    ¡°How did Alicia get lost?¡± Dania rephrased, as if she didn¡¯t understand her the first time.


    Serena thought for a moment. Better to obscure the truth, she concluded, lest she hear all the colourful comments Dania had about her parenting.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Those who aren¡¯t parents loved giving parenting advice.


    ¡°We were passing through a crowd, and at some point I just lost sight of her.¡±


    ¡°Where did you pass through this crowd? And did anyone in the crowd stand out to you?¡± Dania¡¯s eyes weighed heavy in concern. Doubt accented the corners.


    Serena knew Dania presumed she hid this doubt well, thus the pressing questions.


    ¡°No, it was just a crowd of people. I don¡¯t think they were dangerous.¡±


    ¡°You could never be sure. Do you remember anyone in particular? Any features that stood out to you like dyed hair, or¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not the crowd, okay? Alicia just lost sight of me and took off on her own. That¡¯s how she got lost.¡±


    ¡°Do you know where she could¡¯ve gone?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    A car drove past them. My god, what if Alicia was in a car accident? A grotesque image of the girl in a pool of blood disturbed her. She took a deep, shaky breath, and replaced that thought with¡­ with¡­ to no avail.


    ¡°Is there any place here that Alicia recognises?¡±


    ¡°No, she¡¯s never been here before.¡±


    ¡°Hold on, you said you were here for a family affair.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already said it¡¯s private. I would appreciate it if you stop asking about it, thank you.¡±


    ¡°Sorry ma¡¯am, I¡¯m just looking for more information that could help us find Alicia.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already told you everything of use.¡±


    Dania stopped with the questions at last. Though the doubt and concern never left her eyes.


    After a few more minutes of searching, everyone regrouped. Dania suggested expanding the search area, but Serena objected. Alicia couldn¡¯t have gone out that far. But what she saw by the traffic light proved her wrong.


    There she was. Hugged against the wall, beating her own head and wailing. Why did she do that? It was always summer in Singapore, but Alicia shivered as if it was winter. Tears burst out as Serena ran to the girl with open arms, but the girl shrieked in retaliation and crawled away from her. Sweat, tears and mucus drenched her nose and mouth, which she wiped away with her shirt.


    ¡°Alicia! Why did you run away? I was going to bring you back home!¡±


    ¡°Liar!¡± The sore throat corrupted her sweet voice. ¡°You were going to leave me here to die! I hate you!¡±


    Serena froze. She found herself back at home with her back turned to Pa. Dania and her clones sprung to action like EMTs, examining the girl for signs of injury, physical and mental. Physical, the sprained foot. Mental, the animalistic fear.


    ¡°Does it hurt?¡± Dania asked, pressing and turning it gently. Alicia winced.


    This was her job. But she couldn¡¯t bring herself to move, let alone intervene. The girl limped on one leg whilst leaning on Dania for support, who was at the perfect height for that purpose.


    ¡°Let¡¯s¡­¡± Serena forced herself to move. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± she continued shrieking. ¡°Help me. She¡¯s going to let me die!¡± She tugged at Dania.


    ¡°Come on! You still have school tomorrow, and you still haven¡¯t eaten dinner yet. You must be starving.¡±


    Doubt filled the rest of Dania¡¯s eye. Concern weighed heavier. She gave Alicia to a coworker and took a stand. The air grew still.


    ¡°I beg your pardon? she hasn¡¯t eaten dinner? It¡¯s almost midnight.¡± Dania accused. A coworker recorded this on their phone.


    ¡°Thank you for your help. I¡¯ll bring her to dinner now.¡± Serena stepped forward. They stepped back. What is this?


    ¡°I still have a few things I¡¯d like to ask you before I do that.¡±


    ¡°Please. It¡¯s late. I¡¯m sure your manager would be upset if you stay out here for too long. I appreciate all your help, but we must really get going now.¡±


    ¡°What is the family affair you had to do with Alicia here tonight?¡±


    ¡°As I¡¯ve said, it is private, and none of your business.¡± She clenched her fists. ¡°Give Alicia back to me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry ma¡¯am. I believe this is my business when it concerns Alicia¡¯s safety.¡±


    Safety? Who did this midget think she was? She resisted the urge to rebut and calculated her moves. They believed Alicia over her, because none of them understood Alicia¡¯s strange theatrics. It appeared as if Alicia was held at gunpoint until one realised she reacted the same way towards a fish market. Dania also had an impression that Serena had skeletons in her closet, considering how she dodged her questions earlier.


    Serena chose her next words with this in mind. ¡°Alicia was getting into trouble at school. I came here to teach her a lesson and scare her straight.¡±


    ¡°Do you think that is an effective way to discipline your daughter?¡±


    ¡°Do you have a daughter?¡± Serena scoffed.


    ¡°No.¡±


    The volcano erupted. ¡°I beg your pardon? You are not a parent? Yet you are offering me parenting advice? Where did you gain experience working with teenagers, if any?¡±


    ¡°Well, before working at the motel, I tutored students around Alicia¡¯s age.¡± Dania folded her arms and carried that smug look people did after making a comeback.


    Serena pulled her phone out too and threatened to call the police for kidnapping.


    ¡°I¡¯m just looking for reassurance that returning Alicia to you will not put her in more danger. Once you¡¯ve given me that, me and my team will leave you be.¡±


    She wanted to kill this midget so badly. ¡°How about the fact that I am her mother? Is that reassurance enough?¡±


    Dania turned to Alicia. ¡°Alicia, why did your mother bring you here?¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t know what¡¯s she¡¯s¡ª¡± Dania cut her off with a hand up, like a teacher shushing a rowdy student.


    ¡°She was going to throw me here with the junkies and let them kill me! And¡ªand she was going to check me into a room and make me stay overnight all alone!¡± Alicia grabbed onto Dania harder.


    Everyone stared at Serena.


    ¡°What did you plan to do after leaving Alicia at the motel?¡± Dania pushed further, so arrogant to think she gained the upper hand. ¡°Were you planning to make contact with a dealer?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Her face went white. ¡°I¡¯m not that person anymore! I have a daughter!¡±


    ¡°Anymore?¡± Alicia uttered.


    ¡°No! No! No! I meant¡ª¡± Serena tensed herself tight. ¡°Give Alicia back now, or I am calling the police for kidnapping! And I will call your manager to get you all fired!¡± She dialled 9-9-9 on the phone and hovered her thumb over the green button. ¡°Three¡­¡±


    In one swift move, she put the midget and her clones in their place.


    ¡°Two¡­¡±


    ¡°If I ever see you or your daughter here again, I will not hesitate to call child protective services.¡± Dania said, ushering Alicia to the front.


    The girl protested, trying to run back, but Serena grabbed her in time, and shooed the midgets away. Dania had arrogance that could rival Alicia¡¯s. Good riddance.


    Alicia shrieked again and went in for another bite. Serena yanked her head up with her hair and gave her dagger eyes. ¡°Bite me again and I¡¯ll break your phone when we get home!¡±


    Her cheeks burnt stronger. She ignored it.


    ¡°I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!¡± Alicia whined all the way back to the car.


    ¡°I was going to turn around back to the car after I rang the bell! You really think I¡¯ll let you die here? Huh!¡± Serena shouted, leaving an echo of pin-drop silence. ¡°Who do you think I am?¡±


    ¡°And you really think that Malay lady was going to protect you? You seriously trust her over your own mother? What¡¯s wrong with you?¡±


    In that pin-drop silence, she drove home. It was only after the echo faded did she compose herself. The right thing to say now was something warm. Kind. Motherly¡­ But she couldn¡¯t think of anything.


    ¡°What do you want for dinner?¡± She asked. Her face ran a high fever all night.

 Tacos

    Alicia woke up with a slip of paper in her hands. She did not know how it got there, or what it was. Her mother nagged at her to wake up, stating for the third time that she was already two hours late for school. That was her fault. Alicia, though wide awake since the first nag, kept her eyes closed.


    Her mother barged into her room and flicked the light on. The sting made for the perfect alarm clock. She dragged herself out of bed and changed into her uniform. When her mother came to tie her hair, she swatted the wrinkled hand away and did it herself. As a final touch, she left her breakfast half-eaten.


    There were two bus routes to school. The short one which required her to cross the overhead bridge, or the long one requiring no crossing of any kind. Alicia took the longer route and continued sleeping on the bus.


    Even in her sleep, she still remembered that word. ¡®Anymore¡¯. The sheer panic on her mother¡¯s face hit the final nail in the coffin.


    Dad wasn¡¯t the junkie. She was. She didn¡¯t marry a junkie, he did. He didn¡¯t abandon her, she did. Her mother told the story with their roles reversed to paint herself the heroine. Just to preach morals she didn¡¯t follow (Such as respecting privacy). Just to use Dad as a punching bag. Just to upset and stress her out.


    What else did she lie about?


    Alicia then remembered the slip of paper still clasped in her hand. Drenched in palm sweat. Her fist blossomed open, making its fatigue known. She shook it a few times and cracked every knuckle one by one.


    Thumb. A business card. A number written under the slogan: Life is Better at Motel 91! Pointer. She remembered where it came from; Dania. Middle finger. A second number scribbled over the first. Was that Dania¡¯s number? The motel¡¯s? Child services? Ring finger. She folded it in half and slipped it in the plastic wrap of her maths textbook. Her mother will never find it there. Pinkie finger.


    She tried dozing off again. Still no phone. Still behind on coursework. Still failing her exams. She couldn¡¯t sleep.


    The teachers delivered more exam threats. The June holidays were approaching. And after; their prelims. And after that; doomsday. The countdown begins now.


    Mr Lee expected everyone to have their interview slots booked, which led to today¡¯s lesson: preparing the interview questions, followed by a quick refresher on the topic on Carbo-hydrates, since everyone got that question wrong.


    Even Vinn had his interview booked, because he had a rapport with the Malay vendor and played soccer with them once.


    The only other student without an interview was the one who didn¡¯t care. Kat was more concerned about the new update on Cyber-Strikers. Alicia ignored it until she heard news of the Sniper getting nerfed.


    Minty was even cuter than last time. His tongue dangled out the side of his mouth, flailing up and down as he jumped. His tail whipped madly as Kat hugged him. Kat revealed the girly side of her, which seemed out-of-character to Alicia.


    Then it was her turn. Minty leapt up and placed his paws as high as he could reach; on her stomach. She flinched back. What was that?


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯s just excited to see you!¡± A third voice said, who passed the leash to Kat.


    ¡°Bye Dad!¡±


    Her Dad. Alicia tensed up, committing as much of the man as possible to memory. His office suit, tie, beard. How his first instinct upon meeting his daughter was to hug, even if Kat was unwilling. How he¡ªa parent¡ªdiscussed Cyber-Strikers with Kat. How he came to her for a handshake.


    Oh! Handshake! Alicia snapped back to reality. ¡°Your suit looks nice.¡±


    He asked for her name. She gave it. Some strands of his hair was greying. ¡°You play Cyber-Strikers?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes. Do you?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°What is your favourite class?¡±


    ¡°Sniper.¡±


    ¡°Me too!¡± She flapped her hands behind her back.


    ¡°Bye Dad! Bye Dad! Bye Dad!¡± Kat whined over and over.


    ¡°Okay, okay¡­¡± He chuckled, ¡°Help me hang up your painting when you get home.¡±


    ¡°Water Stephanie using the watering can, not a cup!¡±


    He flashed a thumbs up, took the leash back, and drove off.


    When was the last time her mother hugged her? Or her Dad?


    ¡°Sorry, that was my dad.¡± Kat shuddered. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    She continued flapping her hands, lying that Minty triggered it.


    They beat Campaign mode today, sort of. Halfway through her run, Alicia got her avatar flung into a wall, which somehow transported her inside it, where the enemies couldn¡¯t reach her. Yet, she could still shoot them. This anomaly brought her to victory.


    Kat protested in mock outrage, criticising her for cheating and taking shortcuts. Though she agreed, Alicia still taunted Kat with her high-score. They laughed and screamed until their throats were dry, then replenished it with soda, and continued screaming.


    She should be home by now to do her chores, homework, and revision. But she didn¡¯t care. Whenever her mother came to mind, she shook it out of her head like one shook water out of their ears.


    It was evening when Kat¡¯s power bank died, and their stomachs rumbled. Her mother was driving home right now. Kat asked if she had money for dinner. Shuffling through her wallet, Alicia only found the canteen vouchers the school offered because she was poor. Feeling Kat¡¯s eyes, she quickly hid them away.


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t have money.¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay. Then I¡¯ll just borrow you.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t repay you afterwards.¡±


    ¡°Nah, you don¡¯t have to.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Kat passed her a ten-dollar note. Crimson red and plastic-y to the touch. She slotted it in her wallet with precise care to cover up the vouchers.


    Her mother always said that any money borrowed must be repaid in¡ªAlicia didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°What do you want for dinner?¡±


    Tacos! There was a taco place she had her eye on for months, which held five-star reviews and looked too expensive for her to afford. But maybe not to Kat.


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    But who would wanna eat tacos? It¡¯ll just make Kat think there was something wrong with her. But who cares what her mother said?


    ¡°Tacos!¡± she forced herself to say, then braced for judgement.


    ¡°Kay. Where?¡±


    Huh? ¡°Uh¡ªCan I search for its location on your phone?¡±


    ¡°Kay.¡±


    Twenty-two minutes by train along the red line. Forty minutes by bus, with three transfers. Two hours by walking.


    ¡°Which one is the taco? Is it the one like a sandwich, or the one in a wrap?¡± They walked to the train station.


    ¡°¡°No, that¡¯s a burrito¡­¡± Alicia clarified, sharing all she had learnt from the rabbit hole. She explained the differences between a taco, a burrito, and a quesadilla. Where they came from, what ingredients they used, and their variations across different cultures. as well as the pros and cons of using a hard shell versus a soft shell.


    Kat didn¡¯t cut her off, or asked her to stop, or get upset. She even had follow-up questions! Air became weightless. Effortless and rejuvenating to breathe. It was like taking her school bag off after carrying it for an entire day.


    She went onto the different theories about the taco¡¯s source of origin, and gave her opinion on which she found more wholesome, and how she yearns to cook one for her and her friends one day, and the exact recipe she would use when that day comes, and the recipe she would use for her coursework practical (which she altered to fit the nutritional requirements).


    Wait. She shook herself awake past the MRT gantry. She¡¯s at the train station, going up the lift, about to take the train. The tube of metallic death. Oh no.


    One arrived.


    Kat, the normal human being she was, joined the queue to board it. She, the weirdo, sat paralyzed on the bench.


    ¡°Let¡¯s take the bus instead! It¡¯s faster.¡±


    ¡°What? No, it¡¯s not! And we need to transfer like three times. Fuck that.¡±


    The announcement blared over the speakers. The beeping showed the closing doors. The crowd squeezed themselves into the tube of Death, and it took off. Alicia let go of a tightly held breath.


    ¡°We missed it! What the hell?¡± Kat gave her that look.


    She knew it. Grow up already, weirdo. Alicia read the poster on the bench, suggesting she gave her seat up for the elderly and disabled. There goes her one and only friend.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Kat raised a brow.


    Alicia. Alicia was wrong. That¡¯s why her mother threw her to the junkies with no hesitation. It had nothing to do with her dark past as a drug dealer. That was nothing but an excuse to protect her own feelings.


    Whilst she wallowed, Kat played detective and tried to pry the truth out of her.


    ¡°Is it too loud?¡± Kat asked.


    Spot on. She looked up.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have headphones?¡±


    She shook her head. Her mother claimed it damaged her hearing.


    ¡°What? Then just lower the volume? Duh!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You can go eat tacos without me.¡± That hurt to say.


    ¡°Just tell me next time, dumbass!¡± Kat unzipped her bag and passed her a pair of neon pink headphones. ¡°Here, you can borrow mine.¡±


    She stayed motionless. Kat took it as instruction to place it on for her. The device beeped to life and created magic.


    Everything was softer. Her jaw dropped. The world became a library. She took it off, then on, then off, then on again. Noisy, peaceful, chaos, peaceful. She couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    ¡°Can you go on the train now?¡±


    She nodded sheepishly.


    ¡°Ok, then let¡¯s go. I¡¯m gonna die of starvation!¡± Kat huffed, and dragged her on the tube of death.


    With these on, it was more apt to call it the tube of irritation. Yes, it still screamed at her, but at least it didn¡¯t make her deaf (or make her wish she was deaf).


    With Kat by her side, it was unlikely she¡¯d get lost again. Last time, her mother refused to ride with her to cultivate independence, then refused to drive her home. She only offered to be her GPS. Kat guided her to an empty seat, whilst she sat on the priority seat herself.


    ¡°That¡¯s the priority seat.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m technically disabled.¡±


    Kat laughed. Alicia didn¡¯t get it.


    The restaurant looked more expensive in person. One glance at the menu told her it was impossible to eat here. If her mother ever saw it, she would have a heart attack. She mourned the loss and scanned the area for cheaper options.


    ¡°Yo, this looks good!¡± Kat walked in with brazen confidence.


    ¡°It¡¯s too expensive. I forgot to check the prices before we came here. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Huh? No, it¡¯s fine.¡±


    It was?


    The chairs were a sofa. With a cushion. With a backrest. They gave complimentary water. Free water. The menu was a booklet with multiple pages. They would then say their orders to a waiter and wait for their food without ever needing to leave their seats and reserving it with a tissue packet. There was music in the background, art on the walls, and air-conditioner.


    Kat could afford this?


    She ordered the chicken taco, whilst Kat ordered the fish taco plus a side of nachos.


    ¡°How much pocket money do you get?¡±


    ¡°A hundred dollars a month.¡±


    ¡°What!¡± she gasped. Millionaire!


    ¡°I mean, I probably have to skip recess next week to make up for this dinner, but whatever.¡±


    ¡°But you can¡¯t skip meals, you¡¯ll get skinny!¡±


    ¡°Good, ha-ha. I¡¯m fat.¡±


    ¡°You are?¡± She observed Kat¡¯s figure. Sure, it was big and round, but fat sounded like an overstatement.


    ¡°Yeah, no shit.¡±


    Hold on. How could Kat be sitting here at this hour? ¡°Did your parents allow you to go out for dinner?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°They allow you to do that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Your parents don¡¯t?¡±


    Parent, she corrected internally, and shook her head. Her mother must be fuming, calling her repeatedly. But the joke¡¯s on her, since she was the one who confiscated her phone. ¡°But I don¡¯t care.¡±


    ¡°What? I¡ªAh, whatever. Sure.¡±


    They drank their waters in silence. Kat got on her phone. Alicia continued to flap her hands as she admired the place. The table was tessellated, as were some walls and lamps which hung overhead. She flicked her glass with her fingernail and listened to its soft echo.


    The nachos came first, topped with chicken and tomato cubes everywhere. Essentially, unwrapped tacos mashed together. She took a chip, dipped it in salsa, and bit.


    Fireworks of flavour exploded in her mouth. The kick of spice, sourness of lime, juiciness of tomatoes, and the chewy chicken. She flapped her hands, while Kat slapped hers on the table. Both girls nodded their heads eagerly.


    They jammed chip after chip into their mouth. The salt made them thirsty, which they quenched with more salty goodness, creating a never-ending cycle. This thirst tickled as much as it satisfied.


    More, more, more.


    Kat took a photo and posted it on social media.


    The main course arrived. On a needlessly large plate, three tacos leaned against each other like a pyramid. The fireworks continued, now topped with grilled chicken. It was impossible, but the taco had now dethroned wanton noodles.


    More, more, more.


    The sides were ironically a bigger serving than their mains, and had just enough to satisfy them both. While Kat paid by the counter, Alicia stacked the plates and cups together for the waiters. Afterwards, she melted into her cushion chair, and exhaled in relief.


    They purposely took their own sweet time finishing their waters before leaving. On the train, they bounced up and down reminiscing about the slice of heaven they just ate. Kat made a promise to herself to learn a recipe for those, which she was more than eager to help with.


    ¡°Once you get your phone back, maybe we can call some time, I dunno,¡± Kat said.


    Only friends called each other.


    ¡°By the way, thanks. It¡¯s the first time I got to eat with someone who doesn¡¯t judge my stimming.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Steam?


    ¡°You know¡­ This.¡± Kat slapped the chair to demonstrate. ¡°Thanks for not being a bitch about that.¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡±


    ¡°Can I get real with you for a second?¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­?¡± Was she not real before?


    ¡°I have autism.¡±


    Alicia waited in silence at first, then realised Kat¡¯s moment of realness had already ended.


    ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like¡ªIt just means like¡ªHow do I explain it¡­ It just means like I¡¯m¡­ different. But like not in a bad way. But then some people find it weird and stuff. And like, I struggle with other stuff, but you get the point. Right?¡±


    Different, but not in a bad way. What a pleasant phrase.


    ¡°Just like me!¡± She flapped her hands to demonstrate.


    ¡°Alicia¡­ Genuine question, okay?¡±


    Was she not genuine before?


    ¡°Are you also autistic?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± The news came like a bucket of ice water. ¡°No. Of course not.¡±


    ¡°Have you been tested? Or did any research into this?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­ okay. Well, maybe try doing that? See what you think? I just have a gut feeling, since I have it.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡±


    She arrived home with the widest smile on her face, so wide even her mother¡¯s screaming and nagging couldn¡¯t wipe it off. But her mother didn¡¯t do any of that. No one asked if she had dinner. No one asked if she did her homework. No one knocked on her door.


    About time, she thought, and started researching what Kat talked about. Down another rabbit hole.

 Cookies and Cakes

    Serena watched the number display on the lift count up from one to ten. Please be Alicia, please be Alicia, please be Alicia¡­


    It was Alicia.


    She sighed in relief and ushered the girl in.


    ¡°Where were you out so late? I was getting so worried! Have you eaten dinner?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Alicia locked herself in her room.


    ¡°What did you¡ª¡± She should get the key, unlock the door, and interrogate the girl. What if Alicia was up to more trouble? What if Alicia was in trouble?


    But she couldn¡¯t. Not after that night.


    She reheated dinner and ate both servings by herself. Before the silence grew uncomfortable, she switched the TV on. A medical drama was on; Wei Xiang hated those.


    After dinner, she did the chores. Vacuuming the floor, she swore to herself to never let that night repeat itself. Folding the clothes, she promised herself to learn from her mistakes. Taking inventory of the fridge, she committed herself to do things different.


    When she bought chocolate mix, muscle memory led her to pick the bigger package, hence leaving enough chocolate mix leftover for a second batch. Why not use it? Her colleagues would love these.


    Serena set up the kitchen and got to baking. As she lost herself to the batter, she recalled the gentle way which Dania examined Alicia¡¯s sprained ankle. Which reminded her that Alicia has a sprained ankle. She thought of calling the girl out to examine it, but decided not to. Old Serena knocked all the time; new Serena will not.


    She can examine it tomorrow morning.


    After setting the tray into the oven, she laid on the couch to catch some shut-eye within the forty-five minutes. As her eyes shut, she recalled Alicia asking, ¡®Anymore?¡¯. Maybe Wei Xiang was right. Maybe it was time. Maybe sixteen was old enough.


    Ding! The oven chirped. She let them cool overnight and brought it to work tomorrow.


    As expected, everyone loved it. They clung onto anything that saved them from cafeteria food like a life buoy. Though reluctant, everyone was too polite from having seconds. Except Kelly, who wanted to save one for her husband. Serena allowed it.


    It was just like Chinese New Year, where everyone in the village came knocking for Ma¡¯s pineapple tarts. The wave of nostalgia brought a smile to her face.


    ¡°Mm!¡± Kelly said with a full mouth, ¡°You should sell these! It¡¯ll make the perfect business! People would pay good money for this!¡±


    ¡°Thanks Kelly.¡± She scratched her head.


    ¡°It could be like a physical retail store, or entirely online, and you hand-deliver the cookies to the customer.¡± Off she went into her entrepreneurial dreamland again. ¡°So it¡¯s like food delivery, but for cookies. Imagine having cookies hand-delivered to your doorstep! Isn¡¯t that so convienient?¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a good idea.¡± Serena nodded, keeping the container back in her handbag. ¡°Cheryl¡ª¡±


    ¡°And you could sell a container of them for like¡­¡±


    The tables had turned. It was the first time Kelly cut someone else off. Her eyes watched the ceiling as she crunched the numbers before she gave up and used her phone instead.


    ¡°Twenty-five? And if you sold one every day, that¡¯ll be¡­ seven-fifty. And that¡¯s only one container a day!¡±


    ¡°What about a cake?¡± Serena suggested. That same sparkle ignited in her eyes.


    ¡°You can do them birthdays! You can offer to bake birthday cakes for people according to whatever flavour or topping they want! Customised. You can charge more for those! You can earn good money with this!¡±


    Better yet, Serena thought. She could live off this.


    ¡°Better not let your bakery distract you from work.¡± Cheryl chimed in. ¡°Just like how I don¡¯t let doodling distract Zack from his studies.¡±


    The tables turned back.


    ¡°Cheryl, does Zack get tuition?¡± Serena jogged her memory awake.


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    ¡°Of course! You think school materials alone are enough to prepare your kids for their exams? Their teachers have forty students to handle. You think your kid will get enough attention from them?¡±


    ¡°Could you recommend some? I think Alicia could benefit from some tuition.¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡±


    Every tutor and tuition center Cheryl had listed were too costly for Serena¡¯s budget. and the glowing reviews made them sound too good to be true.


    She sighed.


    ¡°Or¡­ Since we are all being creative today¡­ Why not I let my Zack tutor Alicia for you?¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! It¡¯ll give him some working experience. You can discuss the rate with Zack. Teach him how to make business negotiations.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay Cheryl, you don¡¯t have to. Thank you so much¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± Cheryl patted her shoulder a little too harshly. ¡°It¡¯s no trouble at all. We¡¯ll set up a date for it later.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­Uh sure! Sure!¡± Serena bowed, ¡°Thank you Cheryl, thank you so much!¡±


    If Cheryl liked it, she would¡¯ve hugged her. Old Serena left Alicia¡¯s studies in the girl¡¯s hands; New Serena will not.


    They got back to work. A customer asked which brand of soap was best for corgis. Another¡¯s child begged and begged for permission to play with the hamsters. Cans were arranged, baskets were stacked, floors were swept.


    Nearing the end of their shifts, she did something unlike herself. She invited Kelly to dinner. Kelly also did something unlike herself; she accepted.


    Empty bottles, tissue packets, and newspapers filled every nook and cranny of the car. When was the last time Serena cleaned the car?


    Her phone connected to the speakers and auto-played her playlist. Her face went red as she rushed to mute it.


    ¡°Wow, this is my mother¡¯s favourite song,¡± Kelly said.


    It made her feel old. She hated feeling old.


    ¡°How is she?¡± She only turned the volume up after switching it to the radio.


    ¡°She passed a few years ago. Bone cancer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±


    She thought of her joints. She hated thinking about her joints.


    ¡°How is Alicia?¡± Kelly asked.


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°How are her grades?¡±


    Serena laughed painfully. ¡°Hopefully Cheryl is right, and tuition will make a difference. If not, I don¡¯t know what else to do! It was nice of her to offer that though.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. She¡¯s cold, but nice. You know what I mean?¡±


    Serena knew exactly what she meant. They gossiped about how Cheryl flaunted her necklace, how Gen could not eat civilly to save her life, and the part-timers that dropped everything they carried.


    Then they cooed over the animals. Poor things trapped in those tiny cages. If either of them had the money and time, they¡¯d save them from these hellish conditions. Kelly always tried to play with them as much as possible to Cheryl¡¯s dismay.


    One glance at the drying rack told her Alicia did not do the chores. The house had no dinner prepared, unopened mails littered across the dining table, and a lazy teenager sat before the television on the couch.


    This was a first for Alicia.


    ¡°Alicia, this is my colleague, Kelly. From the pet store.¡± Serena gestured to Kelly.


    The girl didn¡¯t react.


    She cleared her throat, bulging her eyes out, ¡°We have a guest!¡±


    ¡°Hi Alicia! How are you?¡± Kelly added.


    The girl changed the channel, then laid down.


    ¡°Don¡¯t watch the TV lying down! It will spoil your eyes! Do you want to wear spectacles?¡±


    ¡°You¡ª¡± Forget it.


    Serena made dinner. Kelly complimented her cooking, whilst Alicia criticised it by eating it in her room behind closed doors. This warmed her heart, then cooled it back down.


    Following dinner, she made tea and got down to business. They dreamt of the perfect bakery: A sleek website, a following on social media, and Serena making art in her kitchen.


    But perfection was impossible, especially with them at the helm. Compromises had to be made, leaving them with:


    One, they split the labour in half; Kelly handled business, Serena handled baking. Two, they made the deliveries themselves. Three, once the business took off, they¡¯ll quit the pet shop.


    On the customer¡¯s end, they would first come across Kelly¡¯s marketing online. Then, they would call Serena to place an order. A few days later, their cookies would appear by their doorstep.


    Serena wrote this all down at light speed. She doodled some ideas for the website design too.


    With the plan finalised, they only had one thing left to do: register the business. Time was getting late, and Kelly had a husband waiting for her, hence leaving this in Serena¡¯s hands.


    Alicia came out the moment Kelly left and dumped her plate in the sink.


    ¡°Alicia.¡± Serena called her.


    Alicia stopped, but didn¡¯t turn to face her. The girl sat on the fence of replying or ignoring her.


    ¡°Did you hear what me and Kelly were discussion earlier? I¡¯m starting a bakery business!¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡±


    ¡°What do you think I should name it?¡±


    While the girl contemplated, she filled in the registration form.


    ¡°What is the business about?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be baking pastry for people to eat, like the cookies I baked you that time, after we came back from Dr Wang¡¯s? How is your ankle? Does it still hurt?¡±


    She couldn¡¯t tell if the girl was brainstorming a catchy name, or deliberating whether to spend the energy required to answer the question.


    ¡°¡ªand maybe I¡¯ll bake a cake too in the future!¡± She added when the pause grew too long.


    ¡°Cookies and cakes P-T-E-L-T-D.¡±


    ¡°That stands for private limited.¡±


    ¡°My leg is fine.¡±


    ¡°Can I see? Do you want to see Dr Wang for it?¡±


    Alicia locked the door.


    After registering, she got to the chores and daydreaming what the website ought to look like (one of the more feasible ideas they thought of). The first words that came to mind were pink and hearts. Was that too girly?


    She¡¯ll discuss it with Kelly tomorrow.


    Cheryl suggested tomorrow afternoon for Alicia¡¯s tuition session, which didn¡¯t clash with the girl¡¯s schedule.


    Serena knocked on Alicia¡¯s door to inform her of it. ¡°You have tuition tomorrow afternoon with Zack. My manager¡¯s son, the auntie with the necklace. Don¡¯t be late.¡±


    No response.


    She wanted to keep going, but stopped herself again. Old Serena nagged; new Serena will not.

 Tuition

    First thing in the morning, Alicia learnt she had tuition this afternoon. Second thing in the morning, Mr Lee pulled her aside during ¡°silent reading¡± for a talk. They sat in the deserted canteen as dawn broke, and the sun coloured Mr Lee golden-yellow.


    ¡°Sorry it¡¯s taken me so long to sit down and talk to you. Things have been busy.¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°Remember when I said I¡¯ll talk to you after your assessments were over?¡±


    Vaguely. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why I called you down here today. Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s not just you, and you¡¯re not in trouble. I just want to check in.¡±


    Nod.


    ¡°So, Alicia, how have you been doing? With your studies and all that?¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°How about things at home?¡±


    She frowned. The dishonesty of teachers always irked her. They appeared to care and listen, but they never did. Rather, they were more akin to interrogators, using every trick in a book to get a guilty confession.


    It was these underhanded tricks that got Kevin to admit his romance with Ying Wen. The teachers called their parents and slapped them with a disciplinary warning. The couple broke up last week.


    The news broke everyone¡¯s hearts.


    Her brows furrowed. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Mr Lee cleared his throat.


    Alicia had a hunch he was about to demand eye contact again, so she stared at his tie. His silence gave Alicia confidence that her hunch was right.


    ¡°Yes. We get along well.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you noticed that your grades got worse, especially for Maths? What happened there?¡±


    Mrs Fei happened there. She didn¡¯t know that she rolled her eyes until Mr Lee addressed it.


    ¡°It¡¯s important for you to take responsibility for your own studies, Alicia. Blaming your teachers or classmates is convenient, but it won¡¯t help you improve. What you should do now is to ask yourself what¡¯s the next step?¡±


    With this segway, Mr Lee got to the point. He was surveying the class for willing students to join his Study Group. A tight-knit group of students who¡¯d sacrifice their first week of holidays to study in the library. In this group, students can exchange knowledge and hold each other accountable, thus making it the perfect environment to study.


    Would she like to join?


    No. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And if you have anything you want to get off your chest, I suggest you pay a visit to the school counsellor. Don¡¯t listen to all the nonsense your classmates say about them telling your secrets to the principal. That¡¯s all nonsense.¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡±


    Mr Lee dismissed her.


    Two camps formed over the counsellor. On one camp, the students viewed the counsellor as a spy for the principal, digging dirt on any fool who dared visit her. On the other, the teachers assured them the counsellor was a professional.


    Alicia was undecided on which camp to trust.


    Only one way to find out. She paid the counsellor a visit during recess, and gave her sandwich to Kat. The school tucked the office away near the back gate.


    Knocking on the door, a sweet old lady answered, and ushered her in. Of the three rooms, Alicia chose the one with pink walls with inspirational quotes about the magical power of family.


    The cheesiest one she saw was: ¡®FAMILY. Father And Mother, I Love You.¡¯


    She snugged a pillow as she introduced herself and her hypocritical, two-faced mother who preached morals she didn¡¯t follow.


    The sweet old lady recoiled. ¡°It¡¯s not nice to talk about your own mother like that. She gave birth to you, you know? You should be grateful to her.¡±


    Alicia wanted to talk about Motel 91, but her gut sided with her classmates. ¡°She made me sprain my ankle.¡±


    ¡°Oh, how did that happen?¡±


    She chose her words carefully. ¡°I was running away from her and I tripped.¡±


    ¡°Have you seen the doctor¡¯s for it?¡±


    ¡°I will tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Get well soon.¡±


    Alicia complained about her mother, which instigated the counsellor to sing her mother¡¯s praises, which instigated Alicia to complain further, which instigated the counsellor to praise more¡­ This went on for an hour.


    The praise reached its peak when Alicia revealed she only had one parent, ¡°Everything you¡¯ve told me today shows me that your mother only has your best interests at heart. The lengths she goes to help set you on the right track shows how much she loves you, Alicia.¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡±


    ¡°How do you think you could repay her?¡±


    God, she sounded like a teacher. ¡°Be grateful.¡± She forced herself to say. The counsellor nodded and dismissed her with a final nugget of ¡°wisdom¡±: Never turn your back on family.


    Not a second after Kat asked to hang out, Alicia decided to skip tuition. Her grades opposed this. Her temperament supported it. The few times Alicia studied with others (whether by choice or not), it never ended well. The other humans¡¯ mouth-holes made focusing impossible.


    ¡°Do you wanna come to my house?¡±


    ¡°Ok, sure.¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡±


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    ¡°And I have tuition. My mother forced me to attend it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, shit. That sucks, ha ha. Tell your mom not to then.¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t listen to anything I say.¡±


    ¡°Then get someone else to say it for you, like your dad. Sometimes your mom is more stubborn than your dad about something, and vice versa. You know?¡±


    She didn¡¯t. Alicia locked her face in a frown as they greeted Kat¡¯s dad again. Watching them hug and laugh enlarged the frown. Minty¡¯s fur shrank it back down.


    Then she heard the affectionate nickname the Dad gave to his daughter: Kit-Kat. Her mother never had one for her.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± Kat returned to her while Minty went to her dad.


    ¡°Kit-Kat?¡±


    ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡± Kat exclaimed. ¡°Never fucking call me that! Fuck you!¡± She tried her best to suppress a smile.


    As she invited Kat in, she winced. What would Kat think of her cheapskate house? No one had ever come to her house before, but she imagined if they did, they¡¯d mock how cheap it was. One glance and Kat would spot the second-hand sofa, the outdated TV, and the ugly standing fan in the corner.


    Alicia studied Kat. No frown, grimace, or cringe. Kat sat on the couch and turned the air-conditioner on. No complaints. Why couldn¡¯t her classmates be more like Kat?


    Her stomach grumbled, which reminded her she had forgotten to buy lunch from school. Her wallet only had vouchers and coins adding up to a dollar-and-twenty.


    The frown grew, and the brows followed. She kicked the sofa again and again. Her afternoons were not supposed to have tuition. This was not how an afternoon should go. This afternoon was all wrong.


    It was like detention all over again.


    ¡°What? What!¡± Kat rushed to her aid.


    ¡°I forgot to buy lunch. And I only have canteen vouchers.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Oh my god, me too. I got no more money, since we ate at that restaurant¡­ Shit.¡± Kat thought for a second, ¡°You got instant noodles?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡±


    Kat discovered the chocolate mix whilst searching every cabinet in sight. ¡°Woah! You know how to bake?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s my mother¡¯s. She bakes cookies!¡±


    ¡°Damn, I bet they¡¯re fucking awesome!¡±


    Junk food was not ¡®fucking awesome¡¯.


    Kat found the instant noodles next and insisted on the spicy flavour. She took a carrot and two eggs from the fridge, arranged it all together and got to work. No mess, no chaos, no hazards.


    Alicia should know this by now. So, she shadowed the chef and took mental notes. The chef cracked eggs without leaving the shell inside the yolk, or the yolk outside of the bowl. She cut carrots in even slices without cutting her hand, and faced the stove without shrieking or causing a fire.


    The chef instructed her to fry the eggs, ¡°You do that while I cook the noodles, so it won¡¯t be sitting there cold while I fry the eggs.¡±


    Alicia felt compelled to accept. She had already had one free meal from Kat. Two made her a freeloader. The easy part was pouring the yolk and oil in the pan, the hard part was igniting the fire. She turned the knob, and heard ticking, followed by a spark.


    Fire!


    She shrieked, ducking behind the nearest wall.


    ¡°Oh my god, chill!¡± Kat laughed, ¡°You don¡¯t know how to cook?¡±


    Alicia shook her head, and took a walk of shame back.


    ¡°What! It¡¯s so easy, I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    Kat took over, and ignited the stove. Concerningly loud sizzling followed, and the egg white bubbled to life. A droplet of oil flew out the pan, which Alicia tried to dodge.


    ¡°Basically, you flip it over once it¡¯s cooked. That¡¯s it, really. Here.¡± Kat passed her the spatula.


    Alicia approached the Fire slowly, as if about to fight it. At all times, she placed the maximum distance possible between her and the pan. When she flipped it, the egg tore apart.


    She passed the spatula back, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Huh? About what?¡±


    ¡°I ruined the egg.¡± Even though her mother wasn¡¯t here, Alicia could picture her reaction: Shouting.


    ¡°Huh? You did?¡±


    ¡°It tore apart.¡±


    Kat tilted her head, ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°It should flip over as one piece. Mm! You shouldn¡¯t have asked me to help.¡±


    ¡°Why are you¡ªShit, did I say something wrong?¡±


    ¡°No. Sorry for making a mess.¡±


    ¡°What mess?¡± Kat threw her hands up, bewildered.


    Alicia left the kitchen and watched TV without watching it.


    The doorbell rang the moment they started eating. By the front gate was a guy in a JC uniform; the tutor. Alicia kicked a chair.


    ¡°The door is unlocked.¡± She took a bite. The heavenly taste penetrated her frown for a second.


    The tutor took his shoes off and placed it on the shoe rack before entering. He scanned them both for a second. In that second, Alicia noticed his biceps.


    ¡°Which one of you is Alicia?¡±


    ¡°Me.¡± Alicia said.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your room?¡± He scanned the room next. Alicia scanned his spiky hair while nibbling her chopsticks.


    He figured it out on his own and trespassed into her room. She rocketed out of her chair to stop him. ¡°Do not go into my room!¡±


    ¡°Ok, sorry.¡± He sat by the dining table, across from the two girls.


    He made every movement with one-second beats between them, like a robot executing commands line by line. Open bag. Take out assessment book and pencil case. Take out notebook. Flip to assigned page. Instruct Alicia to complete them. Awaiting further instructions.


    ¡°I¡¯m eating lunch.¡± She said.


    He nodded. Awaiting further instructions. Sketch a girl on notebook while waiting.


    The girls finished lunch and washed the plates. While Alicia had tuition, Kat watched TV. Alicia sat closer to him, set the assessment book before her, and waited.


    Point to assessment book. Give Alicia a pen. Awaiting further instructions.


    Alicia continued waiting for him to do something.


    ¡°After you finish these questions, I¡¯ll mark it and you¡¯ll do your corrections.¡±


    ¡°Wow, Ten-out-of-ten tuition!¡± Kat quipped. He did not react. His programming was foreign to the concept of a sarcastic jab. ¡°Ask your mom to get a refund.¡±


    Alicia forced herself to do the questions. It was Math. She hated numbers. It didn¡¯t take long for her to reach a confusing question. She circled it and handed it to him.


    Flip to answer sheet. Find answer for the question. Point to the workings.


    ¡°Explain it to me. I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    Narrate answer to Alicia.


    ¡°You just read out the workings. I still don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°Just remember it for next time.¡±


    Kat sighed passive-aggressively. Zack didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, just do the next question.¡± He said.


    Alicia was taken aback. This was nothing alike to her classmate¡¯s description of tuition. From what she¡¯ve eavesdropped, tuition was the twelfth circle of Hell which used past year papers as their main method of torture, or a land of paradise where textbooks finally made sense. No in between.


    This was in between. Which was worse. This was what her mother thought she needed for O¡¯Levels? Why didn¡¯t she skip it? She could be playing Cyber-Strikers right now.


    Rather than doing work, she inhaled the soap off his body. The best word she could find to describe its scent was lemon. Her cheeks grew hot.


    Kat budged in, quipping about Math and insulting Mrs Fei. It made tuition bearable.


    At least they had a few matches of Cyber-Strikers before Kat left. Alicia regretted not skipping tuition and swore to herself to never do it again.


    Her mother came home. She kept her eyes on the TV, pretending to care about the news covering an oil spill in the ocean that ruined marine life.


    ¡°How was tuition?¡±


    Horrible.


    ¡°Did Zack teach you well?¡±


    He didn¡¯t even teach.


    Her mother went into the kitchen, ¡°Oh wow! Did you cook instant noodles by yourself?¡±


    No.


    ¡°Well done! See, I told you cooking wasn¡¯t difficult! All these things aren¡¯t difficult Alicia, you just need to stop being lazy and just learn it.¡±


    Her mother joined her on the couch. She got up and locked herself in her room. Stay away, junkie. The frown developed into teeth grinding.


    Not only should she skip tuition, she should also steal her phone back, change the password, and remove her mother¡¯s fingerprint from the settings. With her phone back, she should find Dad and ask him for the truth.


    At the stroke of midnight, Alicia tiptoed out of her room and dug through her mother¡¯s work bag. After retrieving it, Alicia changed her password to something her mother would least expect: T4C05.

 Better Than Nothing

    Serena looked at the sink. Why were there two bowls? She looked in the cupboards. Why did Alicia use two packets and two eggs? This all suggested that someone else ate noodles with her. But who? Kat? Didn¡¯t she tell Alicia to avoid that bad kid?


    Last night, she heard Alicia chatting with someone. Alicia¡¯s phone also disappeared from her bag. Serena should confiscate it back and punish the girl for stealing. But she didn¡¯t.


    Instead, Serena left a cookie by her door, where it laid untouched.


    Somehow, Kelly turned her half-baked doodles into a fully functioning website. Shades of pastel pink painted every background. Shades of red and yellow broke it up, and gave the eyes variation to feast at.


    It was perfect.


    Most tabs were empty, reserved to showcase the pastry menu Serena had yet to design. She challenged herself to place at least five items on it: a cookie, a cake, a muffin or cupcake, and¡­ something else.


    Flavours were like paint. They sat on a palette board, ready to make its mark on the blank canvas. Flavours could mix, blend, and complement in infinite ways. Only the artist¡¯s skill limits the possibilities.


    In Serena¡¯s case. the mixing bowl was her canvas, and the paint swirled within it in the same hypnotic manner.


    Her mouth watered.


    ¡°Serena!¡± Cheryl jerked her back to reality. ¡°Follow me to throw out the cardboard!¡± She pointed to a pile of uncrushed cardboard boxes by the corner.


    According to Serena, five minutes have passed. According to her phone, an hour has passed.


    Cardboard boxes held cardboard boxes held cardboard boxes. It all sat on the edge of the trolley with a squeaky wheel. While Cheryl pushed, Serena guided the way and kept the boxes from falling off.


    ¡°So, how was Zack? Perfect, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Alicia gave no review of Zack¡¯s tutoring. ¡°Thanks again Cheryl, it means a lot.¡±


    Cheryl swatted it away. No big deal.


    She remembered the untouched cookie by Alicia¡¯s door. ¡°Can I ask you something? Are there ever times where Zack doesn¡¯t open up or talk to you?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ sure.¡±


    ¡°What do you do about that?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°How do you get him to open up again?¡±


    Cheryl blinked a few times. ¡°He¡¯s a good kid. He always listens to my word. If I needed him to talk to me for whatever reason, I¡¯ll just ask him to. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°I messed up, Cheryl.¡± The fear in Alicia¡¯s eyes as she hid behind Dania came to mind. ¡°I did something really wrong to Alicia¡­ and now she¡¯s not talking to me.¡±


    Cheryl clicked her tongue and warned her of a slight ledge up ahead. The backdoor beside the toilet led to the basement car park. The smell of trash ambushed them.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always told you this. You¡¯re letting Alicia get out of control. You¡¯re being too soft on her! Especially because you¡¯re a single parent, which means Alicia only has one parent to argue with. Not two.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the problem, Cheryl.¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± Cheryl threw her hands up. Disagreement was her biggest pet peeve. It sharpened her tongue. ¡°Whatever. I shall not interfere with your family matters. Do what you think is best.¡±


    Serena held her breath, reminding herself of Cheryl¡¯s obtuse temperament. Tossing the cardboard always left her shoulders sore, and the garbage smell always made her gag. She approached the topic from a different angle. ¡°How do you bond with Zack?¡±


    Cheryl assessed if she was joking or not. Then, she stalled and threw the garbage away alone. They swapped roles guiding the trolley back to the store; Serena pushing, Cheryl guiding.


    ¡°He helps me cook dinner.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s nice¡­¡± Alicia never did that before.


    Maybe that was the solution?


    One last business update came right before she clocked off: Their first order. Serena insisted on delivering it.


    She summoned the girl to the kitchen tonight and gave her the juicy business updates. Then she laid out the ingredients by the counter and guided Alicia through her workflow.


    Serena divided the kitchen into three stations. Station one was where she made the batter. Station two was beside the oven, where she poured said batter onto the baking tray, and added toppings. Station three was the dining table, where she packed the final product into tupperware containers and into the fridge to chill overnight.


    Alicia was deadpan.


    Serena handled station one, explaining everything she did as she did them, and glancing to check Alicia was paying attention. Then, at station two, she let the girl add the toppings. Alicia did, still deadpan, as if her face stopped working.


    Worse, Alicia didn¡¯t sit to watch the cookies bake, nor did she eat any. She was just glad to be dismissed.


    At least she bothered to help. Better than nothing.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Tomorrow, she drove to the customer¡¯s address after a detour home. She tasked Alicia to cook instant noodles herself for dinner. The neighbourhood was the typical residential block in Singapore with a forest green palette.


    As she closed the lift doors, a wheel jammed itself in, pushing the doors back open. That wheel belonged to a bicycle, which belonged to a cyclist. He apologised for the inconvenience caused.


    After a minute of fumbling, he found the sweet spot that fit his entire bike. It cut the shaft in half down a diagonal and squeezed Serena to the corner. Apologising further, he helped pressed the button to her floor.


    His polite smile revealed dimples; that was her type.


    ¡°Just came back from a 1km ride with some old friends.¡±


    ¡°What trail did you take?¡±


    ¡°Through the park connector, which is one long uninterrupted path that loops around the neighbourhood.¡±


    Serena noticed no ring on the cyclist¡¯s hands. She tamed her racing pulse, reminding herself that she wasn¡¯t 20 anymore, and neither was he.


    She only allowed herself to make a literal elevator pitch of her bakery and promoted its social media. The shameless promotion made her cringe a little. At least he was receptive to it.


    The customer passed her a crisp fifty-dollar note. Green like the building they lived in. Its texture was halfway between paper and plastic, with an aroma that smelled good for reasons she couldn¡¯t explain.


    She didn¡¯t need to live like this. What took her so long to stop?


    She didn¡¯t mind the chores today. It was almost enjoyable. Folding clothes gave her hands something to do whilst she watched TV, much like sewing in a rocking chair. Her mind drifted to the cyclist again: no ring, dimples, fit. She tamed her pulse again; she wasn¡¯t twenty anymore.


    Neither was the woman who delivered the cookies. A loveless life for two decades; she didn¡¯t need to live like that. It took procrastination and a heated debate in her head to download a dating app. It took more hemming and hawing to fill out her profile. But the true test of willpower came from the profile photos. The app demanded six, which was six more than her face could handle.


    Serena had a few tricks up her sleeve to avoid this, though. First was to search through her gallery. Every photo of her Alicia or her colleagues in it. A warm blanket of nostalgia wrapped around her, yet this was hardly the time.


    She only found two, which cut her work down to four. One was of her showing off her make-up, and another of Alicia¡¯s first trip to a fancy restaurant.


    The remaining four came that weekend. First, they visited Wei Xiang¡¯s. This trip killed two birds with one stone. One, with Wei Xiang¡¯s professional opinion, Serena could stop worrying over Alicia¡¯s sprained ankle. Two, it was time to introduce him to the bakery, and give credit where credit¡¯s due.


    Alicia went first. Wei Xiang assured them that the ankle had healed. The girl shot an I-told-you-so glare, stole some herbs from a nearby cupboard, and napped on the examination bed.


    Maybe she should buy Alicia an air purifier, or better yet, give her¡¯s to her?


    Serena went next. She presented her experiment of strawberry cookies, and made him her test subject.


    He took a bite, chewed for a while, and began nodding. His brows shifted left to right, searching for the right words to describe it. ¡°It¡¯s too sweet. I don¡¯t like strawberry.¡±


    She snatched the container back in mock outrage.


    ¡°I¡¯m not done! I want to save one for Carrie!¡± Wei Xiang played along.


    She gave it back, ending the childish play.


    ¡°You¡¯re getting back into baking, huh? That¡¯s nice.¡±


    ¡°Not only that¡­¡± She whipped out her phone with the website already on it, and shoved it in his face, ¡°Ta-daa!¡±


    He took a similar pause before nodding. ¡°Wow! Since when could you do all this?¡±


    ¡°One of my colleagues from the pet store was a business student. She¡¯s my business partner in this.¡±


    ¡°Cheryl studied business?¡±


    ¡°No! The young one! With the K-Drama husband!¡±


    ¡°She studied business, and she¡¯s working in a pet store?¡±


    ¡°Not anymore if this takes off!¡±


    Serena showed the social media accounts next and gushed about the pink palette. It was everything she imagined and more. Kelly was a godsend.


    And credit where credit¡¯s due: Wei Xiang inspired her. Wei Xiang¡¯s I-told-you-so face made her want to rescind it.


    ¡°What does Alicia think about all this?¡±


    This extinguished the joy. Alicia always extinguished the joy. ¡°Things are hard between us right now. And I know, I know, ¡®What did you do?¡¯, I know. But can we just skip past that this time, please?¡±


    Wei Xiang sighed, ¡°I¡¯m not interfering.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to. I just want some advice, okay? And I¡¯ll listen this time. I swear.¡±


    "Do something you both like together.¡±


    ¡°I tried baking with her. That didn¡¯t work!¡± She threw her hands up.


    ¡°Does Alicia like baking?¡±


    ¡°Of course she¡ª¡± Does she? ¡°Ok, I get your point. Thanks.¡±


    She woke Alicia up and went on her way.


    That night, Serena spent an hour prettying herself up. She kissed her money goodbye and placed a reservation for a restaurant by the beach. The fanciest clothes she owned was the Cheong-sam she only wore for Chinese new year, which did nicely. The crimson red had a magnetic field that attracted everyone¡¯s eyes, and the shape of the dress helped bring out what curves she had left, whilst hiding the weight she gained. Feeling pretty helped combat the embarrassment that came from the selfie she took.


    Alicia dressed per normal. The most she did for the occasion was wear covered shoes. The restaurant had a giant mascot of a crab, which blinked red and blue. Under that mascot was its real-life counterpart, crawling about in a tank.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to be eating fancy tonight! Order whatever you like!¡± She patted Alicia¡¯s head. This penetrated the deadpan face for a split second.


    The waves crashing against the shore held a melodic quality to it, which paired excellently with the taste of Chinese tea. Its aroma lit up the silk thread which her ancestors sewed that ran through the generations. First her grandmother, then her mother, then her, then onto Alicia and beyond. Its something the kids these days won¡¯t understand.


    A waiter passed them both a menu. Alicia snatched her¡¯s and flipped through it madly. With each page, it stirred the girl¡¯s imagination. Chilli crab, steamed fish, cereal prawn, hotplate tofu¡­ It annihalated the deadpan face. Wei Xiang was a genius


    Alicia pointed to the hotplate tofu, bouncing up and down in her seat, flapping her hands and legs, and squealing. At least three pairs of eyes glared at Alicia in response. She also found her cheeks growing red.


    ¡°Alicia! Calm down!¡± She whispered, ¡°We¡¯re in a public place! Don¡¯t be so¡ª¡± She waved her hands about.


    Alicia stopped.


    The waiter came, Serena ordered, and thus began the waiting. Without the menu, Alicia went deadpan again. Not on her watch, though, as Serena struck while the iron was hot.


    ¡°Let¡¯s take a photo together.¡±


    Alicia obliged.


    ¡°Cheers!¡± She raised her teacup, waiting for Alicia to do the same.


    ¡°Alicia. Cheers!¡± She gestured to the cup.


    ¡°Cheers?¡± Alicia repeated her words and gesture.


    ¡°No, take your tea cup and clink it with mine. Like this.¡± Serena guided her through the motion for the photo. ¡°How do you not know this? Didn¡¯t you do this during the Chinese New Year?¡±


    The iron cooled. Serena got on her phone to complete her profile, while Alicia played with toothpicks. The iron warmed back up when the food arrived; so did Alicia¡¯s squealing.


    Serena gave a second warning, informing her of the neighbouring glares.


    The iron rusted once they reached home. Alicia refused the offer to watch TV together. If even Wei Xiang¡¯s genius couldn¡¯t fix this, nothing will.


    At least she loved the food. Better than nothing.

 Confess

    ¡®Sorry it took so long. She confiscated my phone, and I only stole it back last night. I can¡¯t believe she said all those horrible things about you, when it was actually her. Next time, I want you to tell me your side of the story. In other news, my friend also thinks I¡¯m autistic, and I feel like she might be right. Did the doctors tell you about this when I was born? Did they tell her anything?¡¯ Alicia typed and saved in her Notes app


    To evade her mother¡¯s snooping, she saved it in the inconspicuous folder of ¡®Chemistry Notes¡¯, with the inconspicuous title of ¡®States of Matter¡¯.


    The rabbit hole helped piece the puzzle together. But this only led to other puzzles.. For one, she now had a half-confident assessment of the symptoms she exhibited, yet couldn¡¯t conceive how said symptoms went over her mother¡¯s head.


    Autism diagnoses were often made in early childhood, where the signs were the most apparent; signs her mother missed somehow. Or worse, her mother noticed, but refused to admit it. The thought of her daughter as disabled was too much to bear.


    Another thing that confused her was the ¡®spectrum¡¯. Not gradient, as Kat clarified with a firm tone. Spectrum. The ¡®autism spectrum¡¯ did not measure the severity of autism, because no such thing exists. There are simply different types of autism.


    Kat gave this analogy: Red wasn¡¯t more severe of a colour than blue. They were simply different colours.


    This broke her brain to wrap around.


    Alicia called Kat every night and played Cyber-Strikers together. Her current goal was to unlock every upgrade on her sniper rifle. To do so, she needed to level up. The fastest way to level up was to replay level one over and over, which Kat referred to as ¡®grinding¡¯.


    After ten runs, she had etched the level into her muscle memory, and played it on auto-pilot. This freed up the mental bandwidth for her to ask Kat questions she derived from her research.


    But Kat had none to offer.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, man, autism is complicated! I¡¯m not a scientist. What matters is you get a legit doctor to diagnose you.¡±


    ¡°What type of autism do you have?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know the name, and it doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s just autism. Just focus on learning to live with it.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Headphones, for one, since the world is so noisy. I can borrow you my previous ones.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Alicia still found it incomprehensible that not only there were people who didn¡¯t find the MRT or the wet market deafening, but that they were the majority.


    ¡°And then just figure out what to say to people. I dunno. That¡¯s how I do it.¡±


    ¡°Like shaking hands?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    She levelled up and placed an upgrade point on damage. Her dream Sniper was a deadly assassin that could kill anyone or anything with only one shot.


    ¡°Why do people shake hands? How does it show respect?¡±


    ¡°Dude, I don¡¯t know, man. People are weird!¡±


    They were.


    Alicia looked forward to only two things in tuition. Zack and his sketches. Like clockwork, whenever Zack was waiting, he would flip to the back page of his notebook and sketch.


    These sketches were photo-realistic. So realistic that they came to life when no one¡¯s watching. These sketches came from a single pencil.


    His latest sketch was of a girl. Yesterday, he finished her hair, which was tied in a ponytail like hers. Was he drawing¡­ her? The thought of it made her hide her face.


    Kat stirred the pot and wrote infinite scenarios for her to imagine. She suggested Zack was sketching her studying posture (head rested on a hand, pen tip in her mouth), and continued to do so after tuition. This meant that Zack thought of her. It was almost sadistic how much joy Kat derived from her embarrassment.


    ¡°Stop!¡± she exclaimed. The pot stirring broke her focus on Cyber-Strikes, which led to her avatar¡¯s demise.


    Kat gasped whenever a new scenario came to mind. ¡°What if he uses that sketch to confess?¡±


    ¡°Confess what?¡± This scenario was odd. But the oddness helped calm the pot.


    ¡°His crush!¡±


    ¡°You mean like Kevin and Ying Wen?¡±


    ¡°Who? I only know Alicia and Zack.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re our classmates. They¡¯re in a relationship¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a joke.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see. Ha-ha.¡±


    Kat¡¯s jokes were either hands-over-belly funny, or not at all. No in between.


    ¡°You like him, don¡¯t you?¡± Kat giggled.


    ¡°He can tutor. I simply need to clarify what type of tutoring I need.¡±


    ¡°As in, you have a crush on him, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Like Kevin and Ying Wen? No, they were a couple. Zack was a tutor.


    ¡°No. That¡¯s Kevin and Ying Wen.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you do! Have you ever had a crush before?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Until now.¡±


    Really? She reflected on it. The details were fuzzy, but the gist of Kevin and Ying Wen¡¯s love story went like this: Ying Wen had a crush on him, and she confessed to him after school one day, and they entered a relationship.


    She eavesdropped on Ying Wen a few times to learn that her crush felt like her heart was ¡®going to explode¡¯.


    Alicia searched for this exploding feeling with her mind¡¯s eye. A sensation that fit that description resided on her pulse, or rather, wrapped around it.


    This was a crush.


    Crushes were to be confessed. She waited until the middle of the tuition to pull it off. The plan was to plagiarise Ying Wen, the only instance of a confession she knew of. From what she heard, Ying Wen approached it with great hesitation. Beating around the bush, tripping over her words; anything to delay the actual news. Kevin did the same, followed by something, and they became boyfriend and girlfriend.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Alicia had to fill that blank on her own. Or perhaps that was Zack¡¯s job? Having never experienced it herself (only popular students had the luxury), Kat offered little to help.


    Zack arrived on the dot. Went through the same routine. Sketched the same girl. Half her attention laid on her work, while the other laid on his sketches. He was drawing the woman¡¯s face today.


    Alicia re-tied her hair, hanging her ponytail lower to match the sketch. It made her head feel unsatisfying, so she corrected it back after a minute.


    That exploding feeling filled her chest again, which told her it was time. Step one, beat around the bush.


    ¡°What are you drawing?¡±


    Zack said nothing.


    ¡°Who is that? Is that your friend?¡±


    Nothing.


    ¡°Can I see?¡±


    Nothing.


    ¡°Can you teach me how to draw?¡±, ¡°You draw really well!¡±, ¡°Do you take art lessons?¡±, ¡°My friend Kat takes painting classes.¡±


    Nothing, nothing, nothing.


    But she had to delay longer. Or did she? How long must the delaying last? Ying Wen never specified how long the confession took, but Alicia¡¯s best estimate was ten minutes.


    Five minutes more.


    She asked him to explain a question, which filled those five minutes, with five extra spent on completing the rest of the worksheet.


    It was time.


    She covered her face. ¡°Zack, I have something important to tell you.¡±


    He looked at her.


    ¡°I¡ªum, have¡ªum, a crush on you.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Next came the blank. Was it her job or his to fill it? She waited for his response to inform her next move. If he gave one, that was. He didn¡¯t. Was he waiting for her? Or simply being his robotic self?


    The silence was awkward, not contemplative. She extinguished it by skipping the step altogether. ¡°Would you like to be my boyfriend?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    She shouldn¡¯t have skipped a step. ¡°Sorry. I don¡¯t know how to confess.¡±


    ¡°Confess what?¡±


    ¡°My crush on you.¡±


    ¡°But I just met you last week.¡±


    ¡°I feel like my chest is exploding, which is what a crush feels like.¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡±


    Alicia changed tactics. ¡°Your shampoo smells lemon-y, which is nice. You are very talented at drawing, and your sketches are very realistic. I like your hair and your muscles.¡± She tried not to flap her hands.


    His face changed. The scrunched nose, the raised brow, the awkward silence¡­ He looked at her the way her classmates did. Darkness cast over her eyes, and she returned to work, no longer spying on his sketching. It definitely wasn¡¯t her.


    Awkward silence filled the rest of the hour.


    Kat¡¯s dad invited her over the next day. It took both girls by surprise, and their reactions were diametric opposites. Alicia was eager, whilst Kat objected. But Kat obeyed nonetheless, remarking that her dad knew best.


    Alicia noted the unyielding trust between the father and daughter.


    Just the front door alone left her speechless. The wood looked and felt like a premium species of tree. Along the shoe stand were the potted plants Kat mentioned, with names and watering instructions on post-it note. Kat asked her to settle down whilst she watered them.


    The one closest to the door was Stephanie.


    Minty barged in, running lap after lap around the house and disappearing upstairs.


    Stairs.


    Kat¡¯s house had two floors, laid with marbled tiles that can double as a mirror. The couches that melted under her faced the largest TV Alicia had ever seen. When stared straight on, she could only see its edges in her periphery.


    A book on the dining table caught her eye. The word ¡®Autism¡¯ was on the cover in huge bold letters, like it was earth-shattering news. She flipped to the bookmarked page and read a paragraph that was highlighted in orange:


    ¡®...have a tendency to take things literally. For example, when a parent asks the autistic child to ¡®watch out for cars¡¯, the child would watch the cars pass by literally and not inform his parent about¡ª¡¯


    Kat snatched it away. ¡°That¡¯s my Dad¡¯s book. Don¡¯t read his annotations.¡±


    Alicia remembered herself doing exactly this in primary school. After hearing the advice of ¡®Look left, look right, and look left again¡¯ from her form teacher, she did just that. Standing by the street, looking left and right and left and right¡­ That same form teacher then told her to stop.


    It made no sense.


    ¡°Do you take things literally?¡± Alicia asked.


    ¡°Sometimes. Apparently, when people ask ¡®How are you?¡¯, they don¡¯t actually give a shit how you are. They just want you to say ¡®I¡¯m fine¡¯.¡± Kat threw her hands up.


    ¡°Me too.¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡± Kat seemed amused. ¡°What do you want for lunch? Pasta?¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, my god!¡± Kat gasped at the fridge.


    It had a screen. A touch screen.


    That she could touch to adjust the temperature of the fridge. A touch screen. On a fridge. In the giant kitchen. With countertops that aren¡¯t filled with baking powder and raw egg yolk. ¡°My Mom bought button mushrooms. We have to eat pasta! We¡¯re eating pasta. Settled! Pasta!¡±


    Kat browsed through the shelves, picking out ingredient after ingredient like her mother while asking about it. Ham or bacon? Chilli or cheese flakes? Spaghetti or fusilli? Meaning, straight or curly?


    Alicia wanted ham, no flakes, and straight noodles.


    It was like the instant noodles. Kat stood an arm away from literal fire with zero fear in her eyes, as if this was part of her afternoon routine. Where did Kat learn all this? Probably her father.


    While Alicia watched Kat cook, she shared the story of her failed confession. She expected, yet felt dismayed, by Kat¡¯s response; disapproval.


    ¡°What! You don¡¯t confess immediately!¡± Kat sighed. ¡°You usually have to wait a few months first.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°You have to be good friends first before you get together.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Ying Wen and Kevin were best friends beforehand. A blank left unfilled.


    ¡°I guess this means Zack just doesn¡¯t like you back.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± How did she forget that? Both parties had to have a crush on each other simultaneously for a successful confession. Another blank.


    She sighed. ¡°Now Zack dislikes me.¡±


    ¡°Oh shit, really?¡±


    ¡°I can tell from how he looked at me.¡±


    Kat took a break from cooking to pat her shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Fuck him and his shitty tuition. I don¡¯t dislike you.¡±


    Minty came back down, took a sip of water, and laid in his bed. He held a carrot plush in his paws and feasted on it like a slab of meat.


    The pasta changed Alicia¡¯s opinion about Western food. Thick cheese coated the noodles like fine paint. The salty goodness of the ham. The chewy mushrooms that were satisfying to bite.


    She wanted her mother to cook pasta. Or better yet, to learn to cook it herself. Before this, she had to wait forever for her mother to be free for a cooking lesson, then endure her impatient temper. Now she just could come over after school.


    Seeing the book on autism again reminded her of a question she had been meaning to ask. ¡°When did you get diagnosed with autism?¡±


    ¡°Primary 1.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s early, and that¡¯s good because you get early intervention.¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡±


    ¡°But what if you got diagnosed late? Is it still helpful?¡±


    ¡°How late?¡±


    ¡°Like¡­ Secondary four?¡±


    ¡°Oh! You¡¯re talking about you! Oops. Well, a diagnosis is always good, cause it gives you confirmation, and then you can get support and whatever from there. But some people don¡¯t need it.¡±


    Minty sat by their feet, flashing them his literal puppy-dog-eyes. Kat shooed him away and warned against feeding him human food. The whining and woofing made the shooing heartbreaking.


    ¡°Some people are self-diagnosed, which means they just say they¡¯re autistic after doing a lot of research.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t they get a diagnosis?¡±


    ¡°Cause it¡¯s expensive.¡±


    Oh no. There was nothing her mother hated more than expensive things. There was no way in hell that her mother will pay for a diagnosis. Alicia rolled her eyes at this.


    After lunch, the two girls watched a movie over a bag of chips. Minty sat by their side, tearing the cotton out of the carrot plush.


    Hope wasn''t lost yet, as there was one person left in this world who would pay for her diagnosis. Dad. With her phone back, she can now resume her search for him. The lead she last followed was her mother¡¯s university, which she double-checked to ensure she left no stone unturned.


    She didn¡¯t.


    The next lead she could think of was social media, but this was a long shot. Obviously, her mother did not Friend or Follow his account, but maybe her mother¡¯s Friends did. Or her Friends¡¯ Friends, or her Friends¡¯ Friends¡¯ Friends¡­


    The number of Friends she searched grew exponentially, but this did not discourage her. Instead, this became part of her nightly routine.

 Bicycle

    The June holidays started, and in typical teenager fashion, the girl took it as permission to slack and rot before the TV. If not the TV, she rotted in her room.


    Serena knew no studying was being done. But she didn¡¯t know what could be done to get Alicia¡¯s butt off the couch. Whatever the solution was, nagging and scolding weren¡¯t it.


    Still, she couldn¡¯t bear to watch the girl throw her life away like this. She had to say something.


    But what?


    ¡°The June holidays are here. You have a lot of free time now. Don¡¯t waste it away by watching TV or playing games on your phone. I better be seeing you study later on.¡±


    Alicia locked herself in her room.


    Oh, forget it. If she couldn¡¯t bear to watch, then maybe she should just look away.


    It took a few weeks for Serena and Kelly to smoothen their workflow and solidify the routine. Things could now be done without constant questions and check-ins. This was most evident in the task of delivering, where they made an unspoken agreement to take turns with it.


    Gen offered to spread word of their bakery to her circles. This exposed the social prowess Gen held, and led them to view her with new eyes. The social butterfly flapped its wings, and through the butterfly effect, created a hurricane of papparazzi for the bakery.


    The bakery was now a known quantity.


    Cheryl offered to do the same, but left little results. It only served to highlight Gen¡¯s superpower more. Despite this, Cheryl found more pride in her influence than Gen, and couldn¡¯t help but flaunt it, whilst claiming humility.


    No one liked it, but it helped Cheryl understand their shift in priorities, which led her to give Serena lesser shifts.


    There was a long list of things she hated about her job. Her colleagues were never on that list.


    The men who matched her fell into three groups. Group one were automatic rejects from their gag-inducing introductions. Group two rejected her the moment they learnt she was a mother. Group three were the men with potential.


    No one was in group three.


    The apps were a dead end, clubs and bars were a no-go ever since rehab, and the few baking groups she found online prioritised networking over befriending. This disappointed her. They photographed their pastries with special care for cinematography; she ought to do the same. This lit her up.


    All the inspiration she received whilst browsing led her to her next creative breakthrough: Cheesecake.


    The typical cake with a sour kick to it, and a crust bottom that gave the mouth a variation in texture. Variation, she soon learnt, was the golden rule in the pastry world.


    The first batch she made tonight was too sour and thick. It was like drinking peanut butter. The second had the opposite problem: no sourness. Un-crispy crust.


    Before she had time to bake a third, it was her turn to deliver. It was a re-order, as the address brought her back to the forest green block again.


    The first re-order she had. The first loyal customer she had.


    Except, it wasn¡¯t. Upon closer inspection, she realised the address was to a different floor. It seemed word had spread amongst the neighbours. She took the same lift, half-expecting the handsome cyclist to show up again. He didn¡¯t.


    Except he did. When she knocked on the customer¡¯s door, he showed up. It was only in that moment that Serena noticed his bicycle by the corridor. He thanked her and invited her in.


    ¡°Thank you, but I can¡¯t afford to stay. It¡¯s already late.¡± She bowed. ¡°Thanks for placing an order, though. I appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°No problem. Do you make these all by yourself?¡±


    ¡°Mm! And keep a look out. There might be a new item on the menu soon.¡±


    ¡°Noted.¡± He took the container, passed her fifty dollars, and unboxed it. One bite, and he held the expression Serena aspired for: awe.


    ¡°Oh wow! These are great!¡± He nodded profusely, cupping one hand over his mouth to catch the falling crumbs.


    ¡°Thank you so much!¡±


    ¡°Jacob.¡± He wiped the crumbs off his hands and offered it.


    ¡°Serena.¡± She shook it. ¡°Your bike looks quite professional.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a mountain bike. It can change gears and stuff.¡±


    ¡°Gears?¡±


    ¡°Let me show you.¡±


    He finished the cookie, and began the rant. In great detail, he explained the purpose of every knob and switch, all functioning in a perfect symphony of efficiency. The structure of the bike, as elegant as it was ergonomic, fitted his body perfectly. It allowed him to cycle at a comfortable angle.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    It was the bike for him. Hence, the seven hundred dollar price tag was worth every penny.


    She begged to differ, giving a list of items worth more of the same price off the top of her head: Vacuum cleaner, phone, dinner at a restaurant, new clothes¡­ He took her willingness to listen and argue as an unspoken agreement to stay behind, hence now playing the part of a host. He offered her a glass of water.


    Serena went against her better judgement and stayed behind. Upon stepping in, the first thing she saw was the dining table. Well, half of it. A landslide of keys, clothes, wires, bags and clothes buried the other half. Her glare held too much contempt that Jacob felt the need to apologise and clean up.


    He gestured her to the couch whilst sweeping the landfill off the table, finding another corner to stuff it in. The coffee table didn¡¯t fare any better. An empty soda can sat in an empty pizza box, wrapped in several plastic bags. Jacob cleaned that next.


    ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s been ages since I had a guest. Usually, it¡¯s just me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± All this was her biggest pet peeve, and she hid that behind a smile.


    She had to remind herself to make small talk. ¡°You aren¡¯t married? Or dating anyone?¡±


    No, Jacob answered. His relationships never lasted beyond a year, and he didn¡¯t know why. He could only shrug. That shrug, though, was all Serena needed to understand.


    Then, it was her turn to share: Alicia¡¯s cold shoulder. Alicia¡¯s declining grades. Alicia¡¯s loss of her identity as a good girl. She stopped at the fifth bullet-point to spare Jacob the boredom.


    ¡°Teenagers, right?¡± He chuckled, ¡°But what about you?¡±


    It was an odd question, and it took a second for her to process it. She only had the bakery to share, but he already knew about it.


    ¡°That¡¯s it, really. I¡¯m a pretty boring person.¡± She laughed painfully.


    ¡°Not dating anyone either?¡±


    ¡°No. I had a¡­bad experience last time. I¡¯ve only recently got back into it. But, no luck so far.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that. What does Alicia think about it?¡±


    My god. She hadn¡¯t even considered that. But why should she? This was her life, not Alicia¡¯s. Yet Alicia hovered over her like Cheryl at work, tying her up in red tape. Anything she did first required a green-light.


    Alicia, meanwhile, did whatever she wanted despite the red light. Serena couldn¡¯t even blame her, because Alicia was still a child. She, the mother, should put her child first, as mothers do.


    Jacob put on a movie and shared the cookies with her. He placed one foot up and spread his arms wide. Every ten minutes, he¡¯d ask her some ice-breaker question: ¡®What kind of music do you like?¡¯. ¡®Where did you learn to bake?¡¯, ¡®What¡¯s your favourite movie?¡¯


    None of her answers gave enough momentum to start a conversation. The silence permeated until the movie reached the obligatory hospital scene. This brought her to top speed as she nitpicked the scene to hell.


    All the inconsistencies, the missing details, the comedically simple solution that none of these supposed medical professionals noticed.


    Jacob agreed in uproarious laughter.


    This ended when she criticised the director, which struck a nerve in him. In mock outrage, he defended the narrative, explaining the hidden artistry behind these supposed errors, and the sheer brilliance of the filmmaking that she missed.


    They argued like children at the playground. Laughed like them too.


    When Serena checked the time, three hours had passed. Her eyes popped out of their sockets, and she rushed to pack her things. ¡°Oh my god, it¡¯s almost midnight! I¡¯m so sorry, Jacob, I have to go.¡±


    He offered to walk her. She politely declined. He politely insisted. She politely accepted.


    Chivalry wasn¡¯t dead after all. They reached the carpark and found her car tucked in the corner.


    ¡°This was fun.¡± He smiled, flashing his dimples, ¡°We should do this again sometime.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, when I have the time.¡±


    ¡°Guess I¡¯ll have to make another order.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the best way to reach me!¡± She joked.


    ¡°Good night.¡±


    ¡°Night. Thank you Jacob. It was really nice to meet you.¡± She clicked her seatbelt on. ¡°I hope you find someone.¡±


    ¡°You too. And I hope things get better with Alicia.¡±


    ¡°Me too.¡±


    She watched him until he entered the lift before driving home.


    Until now, tt didn¡¯t occur to her how much she missed not being a mother.


    She perfected the recipe tomorrow evening and delighted herself with cheesecake for dessert. Kelly got to work making the posters, whilst Serena got to work making a fourth for Jacob. On the house, at his house.


    Once finished packing, she braced herself. The girl was lying on the couch with her feet in the air, and arms dangling out.


    ¡°Alicia, did you revise your studies today?¡±


    Alicia turned inward, hiding her face in the cushion.


    ¡°I have something to discuss with you. I¡¯m considering dating again. I think it¡¯s time I stop feeling sad for myself and put myself out there again. What do you think?¡±


    Nothing.


    ¡°Alicia, I know you don¡¯t want to talk to me, and that¡¯s fine.¡± It wasn¡¯t. ¡°But if I do date someone, there¡¯s a chance that he could become your new dad. I need to know how you feel about all this.¡±


    Nothing.


    ¡°Please. I wouldn¡¯t have said anything if it wasn¡¯t important. I¡¯m already giving you all the space you need.¡±


    Nothing.


    ¡°Ugh! Fine. I¡¯m taking your silence as a ¡®yes¡¯. You can¡¯t complain later and say I didn¡¯t listen to you, because I gave you a chance to speak up. You only have yourself to blame if you continue to keep quiet.¡±


    Alicia perked up at last. The best-case scenario was approval. The worst-case scenario could range from a ¡®No¡¯ to screaming and punching her own head.


    Alicia gave neither.


    ¡°I want an official diagnosis for autism!¡± The girl exclaimed, revealing a slip of paper from nowhere, ¡°This private clinic specialises in diagnosing autism spectrum disorders. You can book an appointment on their website!¡±


    Clinic? Diagnosis? Autism? What?


    ¡°Mmm¡­¡± Alicia whined like a kettle. Tears welling in her eyes.


    She shrieked and slammed her door shut.

 Gentleman

    Alicia¡¯s fear of talking in tuition coupled with Zack¡¯s quiet nature made pin-drop silence. The silence made for such a painful hour that, for the first time, Zack started the conversation.


    ¡°About your confession¡­ Let¡¯s just give it more time, and then we¡¯ll see how things go. Okay?¡±


    Give what more time? How much time? How could she see how things (whatever that referred to) went? She nodded.


    ¡°But thanks.¡± He curled his lips upwards. ¡°And if you wanna see my sketches, you can just ask.¡±


    She nodded again.


    The pin-drop silence returned. After she finished the worksheet and passed it to him, it was her turn to start. ¡°I want to see your sketches.¡±


    He slid his notebook to her.


    It obliterated Kat¡¯s fantasies. Zack wasn¡¯t drawing her. So, who was it? She wanted to ask, but stopped herself. Zack had already gave her the look.


    It was time to switch subjects. Zack swapped assessment books from his bag. As he bent over to do so, a breeze lifted his shirt up, revealing a line of red underneath it.


    ¡°How did you bruise your back?¡± Her mother always touched her injuries to ensure it hurt, and rinsed it with water before applying the plaster. Alicia felt compelled to do the same.


    ¡°Huh! What?¡± Zack exclaimed for the first time, ¡°Nothing. I fell down during badminton training. It¡¯s nothing.¡±


    ¡°It looks more like a cut.¡± Alicia followed her compulsion and rested her pointer on it. Zack yelped, almost falling off his chair.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡± He stared at her finger like it was a cockroach.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I won¡¯t.¡± She kept her hands back to her sides.


    Zack took a second to reboot himself, resetting his voice to its default setting of monotonous, ¡°Do your work.¡±


    On paper, her June holidays have started. But in theory, it wouldn¡¯t for another week. The teachers wanted their cake and eat it too. They wanted students to use their break to recharge (so more studying could be done), and expected them to use their break to study (so more studying could be done).


    The irony flew over their heads.


    Mrs Fei especially, whom on the first day of their holidays, opened her remedial class with, ¡°Now that you¡¯ve had plenty of time to relax, it¡¯s time to get back to your studies and revise for O¡¯Levels.¡±


    In the unofficial teachers¡¯ ranking amongst the class, Mrs Fei came dead last. Yes, she ranked worse than the ex-sergeant who made them run 2.4s in the carpark.


    No one ever paid attention to her ¡®teaching¡¯. Those who did understood lesser about Maths. Mrs Fei¡¯s ¡®teaching¡¯ sounded more akin to a detective who had just cracked the case. The whiteboard held all the post-its, and in her hands was the yarn she needed to connect everything together. Once she did, she chanted her mantra, ¡°In Maths, everything is connected. Don¡¯t you see, class?¡±


    The class did not see it.


    Alicia and Kat sat at the back, playing Cyber-Strikers in secret. They had to stifle their stims, and their instincts to celebrate whenever one landed a headshot. Despite their efforts, they still let out a gasp that caught Mrs Fei¡¯s attention.


    At which point they activated a lockdown protocol: stuff the phones inside their shirts, and answer Mrs Fei¡¯s question to throw her off the scent. It worked like a charm.


    A common trend in Alicia¡¯s research into autism was discovering the right words to describe some abstract feeling she felt her whole life. ¡®Stimming¡¯ described the urge to flap her hands. ¡®Meltdown¡¯ described how she¡¯d get so overwhelmed that she punched her own head. ¡®Taking things literally¡¯ described how she didn¡¯t understand why she didn¡¯t understand others at times.


    The most recent word she found was ¡®masking¡¯. The discomfort she felt when stopping herself from doing¡­ whatever, because it evoked the look from others.


    ¡°Fuck that!¡± Kat spat in response, ¡°Fuck other people. Just do what you want! Don¡¯t let anyone tell you who Alicia is or isn¡¯t supposed to be.¡±


    F that! If the school counsellor had this on the walls, Alicia would¡¯ve liked her more. With the surge of adrenaline, she looked inwards for the desires she stopped, censored, and prevented. Amongst them, she picked one, and forced herself to perform it.


    During their break (Yes, Mrs Fei¡¯s remedial was so long it required a break), Alicia shifted her chair to the crowd beside them, also playing Cyber-Strikers, and introduced herself.


    ¡°May I play Cyber-Strikers with you? I play the Sniper class and have reached the maximum level for the sniper rifle. I can kill everything with one bullet.¡±


    They gave her the look, but right before she conceded, their look changed. She couldn¡¯t find the words to describe this change, but she knew it was positive. The circle of chairs opened up for her.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°Can my friend Kat come play too? She uses the Mechanic.¡±


    Another spot opened. She joined their match and fought in teams of five. Whenever she scored a kill, she had to brace herself to endure a split second of dissonant chaos as the circle cheered, and soothe herself afterwards with a few deep breaths.


    Air became weightless again.


    When Mrs Fei returned, everyone rushed back to their seats in the back corner, still as tight-knit as they were before. Alicia and Kat sat a table next to them, eavesdropping. She had much to say to them in her head: thanking them for giving her and Kat a chance, bragging about her stellar aim, sharing the hidden corners of the map she discovered that made the perfect sniper¡¯s nest¡­


    Above all, she wanted more second opinions on her terrible mother.


    The reflex to stop herself flared up like a rash. But she fought the urge to scratch, endured the itch, and forced herself to do the opposite. Dragging a reluctant Kat along, she sat beside them and eavesdropped.


    Now what? She whispered to Kat for help, ¡°How do I talk to them?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know! Why ask me? Why are we even sitting here?¡±


    ¡°I want to stop masking!¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    She played the only card she knew, Cyber-Strikers, and shared the hidden corners she discovered: on the Cruise map, one could access the control deck by jumping on their teammates, and set up a sniper¡¯s nest there.


    The circle remained closed this time. Why didn¡¯t it work? She reverted to eavesdropping whilst pretending to do her worksheet. The universe then offered her an olive branch. Faizah began venting about her strict Malay parents.


    Alicia waited for an opening.


    William went after Faizah, sharing the time his father whooped him with a belt. It made Alicia wince teeth. Pav went next, dissing the favoured sibling in his family. Then, a pause. An opening.


    ¡°My mother brought me to a motel filled with drug dealers and wanted to leave me there alone.¡±


    The circle opened. All eyes were on her, heads craned forward. She recounted her triumphant escape, followed by her meltdown, and the one word she will never forget: anymore.


    ¡°I hate my mother.¡± She ended.


    ¡°Yeah, I get that,¡± William answered, ¡°But, she¡¯s still your mother. She gave birth to you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what the school counsellor said.¡± She frowned.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like you can do anything, anyway.¡± Faizah went next. ¡°They pay for your food, your school, your clothes.¡±


    ¡°Is there really nothing I can do?¡±


    On one hand, she despaired over her mother. On the other, she rejoiced over the successful group conversation with her classmates. She was unsure of which emotion to express.


    ¡°They don¡¯t mean to do these things that hurt us. They just don¡¯t know any better. Our parents are from a different generation.¡± Pav went last.


    Everyone learnt from one another than from Mrs Fei.


    The circle dispersed to collect their revision papers. Mrs Fei wanted to do a mock exam.


    Zack, the robot, morphed into a human. Or rather, revealed that he was one all along. She traded a completed worksheet for his notebook without words and gorged the visual feast on these pages. For the appetiser, she filled the blanks of the incomplete sketches in her mind. For the main course, she imagined the rich inner lives of the sketches, and noticed that most of his sketches were of girls. For dessert, she asked him to teach her, and he obliged.


    She placed pencil to paper and did as told: Draw a circle. It came out crooked. She redrew it. Crooked. Zack took over, holding her hand as if it was part of the pencil, drawing a perfect circle in one confident stroke.


    His hands were soft like clouds. Firm, too. Her other hand flapped.


    Next, she drew a longer oval around the circle, and criss-crossed the shape with several lines at halves, thirds, and fifths. After Zack made minor corrections, he explained the purpose of this exercise.


    It was a template for a face. Across the first horizontal line were the eyes. Second, the nose Below the third, the lip.


    Seeing the human face divided by a grid satisfied a primal need for organisation.


    She asked about his back injury, but he deflected, and plastered his back to the chair. The rash flared up again, but she fought it, and did the opposite. She asked him about her mother.


    After processing the story, Zack had this to say, ¡°You¡¯re right. It¡¯s not your fault, it¡¯s your mother¡¯s. Don¡¯t blame yourself for it.¡±


    He understood.


    ¡°I agree.¡±


    ¡°Good¡­ You don¡¯t deserve it. Hang in there, it¡¯ll get better over time as you grow older.¡±


    ¡°Does it?¡±


    Zack sounded unconvinced. ¡°Yeah. Because you become bigger and more independent while your mother grows older. She¡¯ll stop¡­ one day.¡±


    A silence followed.


    ¡°How long do I have to wait?¡±


    He shrugged.


    ¡°What if she does something worse¡­¡± She leaned back in her chair. This hadn¡¯t crossed her mind until she heard William¡¯s story. His own father, with a belt.


    Parents could do that to their children?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. All I know is to not blame yourself for it.¡±


    Easier said than done.


    Alicia only had a half-baked solution to this. Dad. He didn¡¯t ditch her at Motel 91, and he would never beat her. Never. The social media trail went cold today. It was impossible to research every Friend of a Friend of a Friend with equal thoroughness. So, she eliminated other leads first.


    The first lead was the news articles written about the school. There were several documenting the awards they¡¯ve won over the decades. In the digital age, these articles had a comments section at the bottom. Dad might¡¯ve left a comment.


    He didn¡¯t.


    The second lead was on the school¡¯s website. One of the tabs led to student testimonials, where students reflected their experience in school. All of them were five-stars. Dad might¡¯ve written one.


    He didn¡¯t.


    The third lead were the online forums and discussions surrounding the school across the net. From these discussions, Alicia learnt the truth about this school. They gave worthless diplomas. They bred elitist students. They were inefficient. Dad might¡¯ve joined in.


    He did!


    A comment left under a post that complained about the school¡¯s lack of facilities read:


    ¡®My girlfriend¡¯s friend always complained about the microscopes in Lab 4.¡¯


    Her mother was the girlfriend. Her mother¡¯s friend was Dr Wang. Dr Wang studied medicine, a field of science which required the use of microscopes.


    She searched his name and found his social media. Chinese, the right age, an avid photographer, and a home-chef. Single, with a corgi. She sent him a text and went to sleep.


    But she couldn¡¯t. Instead, she laid wide awake brainstorming the perfect letter to send him, after verifying his true identity. She couldn¡¯t find the right words to say. There were no right words to say.


    There were too many words to say.

 Headache

    Serena met with Jacob for dinner after work. The spontaneous streak in her still ran strong, and today it brought her to a restaurant. Sporting the Cheong-Sam, and wearing make-up that hid her skin age, she arrived at said restaurant.


    He was sporting a suit smart enough for a dance, and his hair. solidified with gel, stood straight up. They locked eyes, stunned for a second, before finding their voice again. He called her beautiful. She called him charming.


    The waiter served them a complimentary plate of peanuts and a cup of tea, which Alicia would¡¯ve devoured if she were here. But she wasn¡¯t, so Serena had it all to herself. The salt and oil from the peanuts chilled her hands under the air-conditioner.


    Without hesitation, Jacob offered his jacket and wrapped it around her.


    He shared his latest adventure out cycling: A chicken sat on his bicycle, and he tried to shoo it away by throwing leaves at it. The chicken talked back like a bratty teen, reminding him of its beak and claws. In fear of being pecked, he switched tactics and lured it away with food.


    He lost five dollars to a chicken.


    This story had them laughing as loudly as etiquette allowed.


    Serena shared her adventure in baking, and the trial-and-error she went through to perfect her cheesecake. It wasn¡¯t as interesting. What interested them more was the list of pastries she wished to bake. Every time she conducted research, that list grew. Jacob offered to be her taste-tester, which Serena exposed as a coy attempt to score free dessert. She caught him red-handed.


    After dinner, they took a walk along a nearby park. Even at this hour, people were still cycling and rollerskating.


    Jacob shared the first time he tried rollerskating, where he fell into muddy grass and swore to never touch it again. Serena chuckled, mentioning the courage she lacked to even try.


    She wasn¡¯t sure why, but this throwaway banter somehow signalled to them it was time to kiss. So they did. The memory of her last kiss, however, threw a wet blanket on this otherwise romantic moment, and left a sting in her stomach where butterflies should¡¯ve been.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Huh?¡± She didn¡¯t realise how wet her eyes got. ¡°Nothing, just¡­ ah, nothing. Forget about it.¡±


    ¡°Are you remembering some of your bad experiences?¡±


    Her silence answered his question.


    ¡°May I ask what happened?¡±


    She considered it, but, ¡°No.¡±


    The spontaneous streak led her to spend the night at his place. This was a step too far. Next morning, she rejected his offer for breakfast and ran home. Thank goodness the girl had enough independence to send herself to school and make breakfast, but not to wash her cutlery.


    Her scars were crying wolf. Jacob was one in sheep¡¯s clothing. If she believed him, she would fall for his trap and get eaten. She will hate herself for repeating history and blame herself for the next two decades. She will regret ever dare dreaming of having anything more than a retail job and a bratty daughter.


    This degree of kindness was impossible for Fate. It was too good to be true; history taught her that. Fate was many things, but it was not inconsistent.


    And this wasn¡¯t even addressing the elephant in the room: Alicia.


    It took a day of radio silence to compose herself. To make it up to him (and keep the can of worms that were her emotions a secret), she accepted his job application as a taste-tester, and let him try her chocolate cake. In his words, it was like ¡°drinking maple syrup¡±. Too thick and too sweet. She noted that on her phone and made mental edits to the recipe. This time around, they watched a movie with their heads resting on each other.


    It took another week to announce him to the world. Gen teased her, comparing them to the lead couple in the drama she watched; she ignored this. Kelly encouraged her, reflecting her own experiences and giving advice on what made a successful relationship; she had heard it all before. Cheryl approved this, glad that she now had an extra pair of hands to manage Alicia; she absorbed this in her chest.


    Wei Xiang gave a smile of a proud father. ¡°Let him in, Serena. He is not him.¡±


    ¡°But what if he is?¡±


    ¡°That would count as a code red.¡±


    She hugged him and restocked her painkillers.


    It took yet another week to introduce him to Alicia. The plan was to invite him over for lunch and spend the afternoon baking a chocolate cake together. Kill two birds with one stone. She gave Alicia notice three days before, who, as expected, gave the cold shoulder.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Jacob came ten minutes early, thwarting Serena¡¯s plan to have Alicia greet him by the door. She rushed the girl off the couch and away from the TV to compensate, and gave a final reminder on displaying manners. Jacob, meanwhile, took in their humble home, which was much worse off than his.


    ¡°Alicia, this is Jacob. Jacob, this is my daughter, Alicia.¡± She gestured to them both.


    Nothing.


    ¡°Hi!¡± Jacob waved.


    Nothing.


    ¡°Ahem! We have a guest in the house!¡± Serena raised her voice.


    Alicia got up.


    ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to lock yourself in your room this time. It¡¯s rude. Come introduce yourself.¡±


    An insufferable eye-roll came from the girl. She spoke as if skim-reading a boring textbook, ¡°Hi my name is Alicia, your hair looks nice.¡± She yanked his hand and shook it.


    ¡°Sorry. She¡¯s in a bad mood.¡± Serena hid her face on his shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I understand.¡±


    Serena called everyone to the kitchen for a briefing. Today, they were going to make chocolate cake. She went through the recipe step by step, then assigned everyone a role. Jacob was in charge of making the batter, Alicia was in charge of frosting and toppings, and she was in charge of supervising them both.


    Jacob did his job the best he could, trying and failing to stop himself from dipping his fingers in the batter for a taste. Serena protested this, and his counter-argument was to feed her a taste too. It worked.


    Alicia stood at the back, eyes glued to her phone while she waited for her turn.


    Serena called the girl here, and gave her a taste. Alicia licked it, and commented it was, ¡°Nice.¡± , then got back on her phone. No further elaboration, no requests for seconds.


    Bad start. Serena needed to break the ice between them. She tried enticing the girl by sharing Jacob¡¯s favourite wonton noodle place. According to him, the cooking could rival their Malaysian counterpart. It got the girl to talk, but her phone stayed up.


    ¡°What¡¯s the address?¡±


    ¡°I can bring you there,¡± Serena said in a playful voice.


    ¡°Kat can bring me.¡±


    ¡°Tsk! Didn¡¯t I tell you to stop hanging out with her? She¡¯s a bad influence!¡±


    Another eye-roll.


    ¡°Stop rolling your eyes at me! Especially in front of a guest.¡±


    Jacob brought her back right before she disappeared into anger.


    ¡°It¡¯s in Chinatown.¡± He said.


    They finished the batter and passed it to the girl. It was Alicia¡¯s turn. Similar to the cookies, the girl went overboard with the chocolate chips, covering every inch of it in brown. Serena had to stop her before it ruined the entire cake, but she was glad it kept Alicia engaged. It seemed the magnetism of good pastry overpowered her stubborness.


    Serena placed it in the oven, and Alicia sat way too close to it while gaming.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stare at it, come to the living room and chat.¡±


    Alicia did not budge.


    ¡°Alicia! Not in front of a guest!¡± She leaned in and whispered, ¡°Do you want him to think there¡¯s something wrong with you?¡±


    Alicia turned her body away.


    Jacob waited for them at the couch, searching the channels for a good show to put on. Serena couldn¡¯t keep him waiting for long before he grew suspicious, and if he saw Alicia like this¡­


    Since Alicia¡¯s eyes were also on her phone, Serena could play it off as a gaming addiction. Or, she could say she tasked the girl to watch the cookies, and play this off as her obedience.


    Jacob came to check on them. She went with the gaming addiction excuse.


    After Jacob left, she dragged the girl into her room, and demanded they end this cold war. It was unbecoming of a family, her family, to behave like this.


    ¡°We are going to have a proper conversation. Now!¡± She crossed her arms. ¡°What do you think about Jacob?¡±


    Alicia turned away.


    ¡°Enough of this nonsense! We are going to talk with each other like how normal parents talk to their children!¡± She turned Alicia back around. ¡°Explain yourself.¡±


    Nothing.


    ¡°I¡¯m not doing this, Alicia. I¡¯m sick of it. This is the last time we will ever deal with this. If you still wanna be stubborn, then I give up. Either we talk now, or we will never talk again.¡±


    She saw a slight flinch from Alicia.


    ¡°I won¡¯t ask about your O¡¯Levels. I won¡¯t remind you to study, or brush your teeth, or anything. We¡¯ll just do our own things and not bother each other. Sounds good?¡±


    Alicia looked at her for a split second.


    ¡°What do you want me to say?¡± Serena knew what Alicia wanted her to say. Alicia wanted her to apologise for the Motel 91 incident. Simple as that. But Serena couldn¡¯t do it.


    Every time the words came to mind, a visceral reaction followed, where every fibre in her body worked in harmony to block those words, those thoughtcrimes, from ever coming out.


    Because why should she? She was the mother. The parent. The leader. Since day one, everything she did was for Alicia, and nothing else. That night, she gave up sleep, endured the migraines and aching bones just to set Alicia on the straight path.


    It wasn¡¯t wrong. It was noble. It simply went awry. If Alicia didn¡¯t run, she would have nothing to apologise for. But because of the girl¡¯s foolishness, she had to get on her knees and beg the emperor for forgiveness?


    She had to apologise for her foolishness?


    Fine. If it¡¯ll get her to talk again.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll say it.¡± She gritted teeth, balled fists. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for bringing you to Motel 91 and¡­ ditching you there with the junkies. I was wrong.¡± Each deep breath made the apology easier to vomit out. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t do anything reckless or drastic like that again, okay?¡±


    Alicia looked at her, or rather in her general direction. She seemed to undergo the same struggle of forcing words out of her mouth.


    ¡°Jacob is nice.¡± She said, ¡°He¡¯s¡­nice.¡±


    Serena hugged her, letting out a breath she held for a month.


    The cold war had ended.

 Tony

    Alicia didn¡¯t want to admit it, but she had to: Jacob was nice. That man did no wrong, nor did he seem capable to. The way he lit her mother up like a Christmas tree, regressing her back into a giggling child. It reminded her of the times she giggled with her mother in the same way. Over melting ice-cream, over rollercoasters, and over trying new food.


    She missed it.


    She missed it so much that, for a moment, she allowed herself to forget about ¡®anymore¡¯. About her drug dealer mother. About Dad being left stranded out there.


    And like Dad, her mother left her stranded too. She said it herself, ¡°We¡¯ll just do our own things and not bother each other.¡± She would play Cyber-Strikers and eat tacos with Kat, while her mother giggled with Jacob until they got married.


    Jacob would become her new father, her new Dad. Meanwhile, her old Dad, her true Dad, would be forgotten by time, as if he never existed.


    Not on her watch.


    She had learnt quite a bit about the commentor. His name was Tony, and he had a pet corgi. Her school had held a million school assemblies warning them about scams, scams, scams¡­ Said warning forced its way into her memory.


    One, a scam requires immediate payment. Two, a scam requests personal information. Three, a scam demands secrecy. Four, if it¡¯s too good to be true, it is.


    But the school never taught the latter; how to tell if something wasn¡¯t a scam. Alicia, however, felt confident to determine that herself.


    First, she had to determine that Tony was indeed the man in his posts. So, she asked him to send a photo of himself. He did. But a scammer could¡¯ve reused pre-existing photos of Tony, or any photo on the web. However, if she asked Tony for a ridiculous photo, like placing a spoon on his head, she could verify his identity to be genuine.


    He declined and instead offered to send a photo of himself with his corgi. That photo was terrible: out-of-focus, weird angle, and visible finger in the frame. No one would post such a photo on their social media. But just to double check, Alicia browsed through his posts again, reverse image-searched it, and cross-referenced both results with each other.


    Tony was indeed Tony.


    School reopened. One month flew by, just like that. Or more accurately, three weeks since Mrs Fei wasted her first. The teachers expected (demanded) them to be fully recharged and prepared for the final stretch.


    Mr Lee wasted no time asking for coursework submissions. He went down the attendance list, calling upon student after student to give their presentation. Luckily, because of the size of the class, Mr Lee couldn¡¯t get to everyone today, which gave those he hadn¡¯t called an extra week¡¯s time.


    Alicia had no intentions to catch up, nor could she. She hadn¡¯t done the interview yet.


    To add salt to injury, their prelims were coming in a month¡¯s time. The rehearsal for doomsday. And in another two months time; doomsday itself. The teachers kept their doors opened and offered to provide the students a listening ear for their troubles. Or better yet, they suggested paying the counsellor a visit.


    Everyone saw through this.


    The students who cracked cried in the safety of their cliques, hidden from the teachers. The students who were cracking hid their heads under the table and pretended to sleep. The students who didn¡¯t studied their hardest.


    Then there were Kat and Alicia, who neither cracked nor studied.


    With Tony¡¯s legitimacy verified, she now needed to verify that Tony was Dad. And to do that, she gave him a pop quiz on her mother and Dr Wang.


    Question one, ¡°Who is my mother?¡±


    Tony answered, ¡°Serena. I miss her so much, and I miss you too. I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t there to see you grow up.¡±


    She stopped herself from responding, and asked question two, ¡°Who is my mother¡¯s friend you were commenting about?¡±


    ¡°This sounds like an interrogation. Why don¡¯t we just catch up?¡±


    ¡°Answer my question.¡±


    ¡°Wei Xiang. He ended up going to med school and became a doctor. Did your mother tell you about him?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s my doctor.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see. That¡¯s good.¡±


    Question three: ¡°What do you know about the drugs?¡±


    Tony took much longer to reply, which would¡¯ve been suspicious if not for his answer. ¡°I always wondered if things would¡¯ve been different if I acted earlier.¡±


    ¡°Elaborate.¡± Alicia asked, heart pounding in her chest.


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    ¡°It¡¯s been so long, so some details may be fuzzy, but basically¡­ She got addicted, and I took too long to intervene. But thank god I wasn¡¯t too late, and I was able to get her into rehab. I think you should ask your mother about this, and not me.¡±


    ¡°Was she a drug dealer?¡±


    ¡°When you¡¯re addicted, you would do anything to get your next fix.¡±


    Fix what? Tony passed her pop quiz with flying colours, and as extra credit, demonstrated his fathering. It was like Kat¡¯s dad. An hour after they stopped chatting, he sent another text, which stuck in her head all night.


    ¡®I¡¯m proud of you.¡¯


    Jacob acted as if he lived here. Her mother invited him over at least once a week and always greeted him with a kiss. Yuck. He was her mother¡¯s biggest cheerleader and supported her in everything she did.


    He took everything she said seriously, even a throwaway comment about rocking a different hairstyle, and he wouldn¡¯t stop the cheerleading until her mother grew the confidence to follow through.


    The few times she¡¯d talk to him, or at least tried to, nothing worthwhile happened. He asked about her studies, gave advice on her studies, and wished her good luck for her studies, as everyone did for a Sec 4 student.


    Compared to hers, Jacob¡¯s house was a mess. Things everywhere, particles of dirt of god knows what pricking her feet, and¡­the toilet.


    It was as small as a prison cell, with exposed pipes overhead, loose hairs in the drain, and omnipresent wetness on the floor without any bathroom slippers to protect her feet from. Washing her hands in that toilet made them feel dirtier. Alicia never used it after that, instead opting to hold it until she got home.


    This alone would¡¯ve repelled her from ever visiting, if not for the tech. His computer reminded her of her classmate¡¯s, where everything on it ran smooth and crisp. Rainbow lights glowed off every piece of hardware. The computer mouse looked like a normal mouse which had melted to the left, making it oddly pleasant to hold. As her fingers brushed across it, she found three extra buttons along the edge. Cool, but excessive.


    Jacob and her mother sat on the couch watching TV, while she sat in his bedroom downloading and playing Cyber-Strikers. This revived the itch in her chest that begged for a computer herself.


    Jacob caught wind of this and promised to buy her one on the condition she gained her mother¡¯s approval.


    She sent Tony some of her letters, dying to hear his response. To the letter about tacos, he loved them too, but preferred a soft shell. To the letter about Cyber-Strikers, he never played it, but promised to try it. To the letter about autism, he heard no such thing from the gynecologist during her mother¡¯s pregnancy.


    He had an insane request. The only way which they could reunite was for him to take a flight to Singapore, but money was tight. The telltale sign of a scam was a request for money.


    The off-chance that Tony was Dad stopped her from blocking him outright. Rather, it pushed her to request further verification. She asked for a copy of her birth certificate, or any related medical documents about her, but he was absent for her birth; very likely.


    She asked for his personal information, but he was concerned that she was a scammer; very reasonable.


    She asked if her mother had any memorabilia of him, and he mentioned a necklace, but her mother might¡¯ve lost it; highly likely.


    With nothing left to ask, she called it a day.


    Zack had finished shedding his robot skin off. With a fire in his eyes, he conducted the art lessons, and even gave her homework to practice. Alicia only completed her drawing homework.


    Today¡¯s lesson was on two-point perspective. Zack drew the template and explained basic art theory, while Alicia thought about her grades. She didn¡¯t want to, but she couldn¡¯t help it.


    Her teachers always said that freedom laid past doomsday. After their exams, they could play all the video games they want and hang out to their heart¡¯s content.


    They were dead wrong.


    From the JC student himself, JC was secondary school but worse; more subjects and more exams. Polytechnic didn¡¯t fare any better with its GPA system. After that, university. After that, workforce. And work was forever.


    More, more, more. It never ends.


    How could anyone live like this? Just thinking about it made her want to meltdown. Zack viewed it as a hard pill to swallow.


    ¡°That¡¯s how life works. You gotta learn to live with it. It¡¯s not like you can just run away from it.¡±


    Except she could. Tony was more than happy to raise her, find her a better school, and get her an autism diagnosis once he had the money


    But they needed to reunite first, and Tony needed an air ticket. But what if he¡¯s a scammer? But he had already passed her verification checks, and it seemed unlikely a scammer would stay committed to one victim for this long. But if he was Dad, she would be making the worst mistake in her life to give this up. But if he wasn¡¯t, she would be making the worst mistake in her life to fall for this.


    She needed to know for sure.


    ¡°Who had the idea to have kids?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Her.¡±


    ¡°Did you want kids too?¡±


    ¡°Not at first.¡±


    ¡°Why did you name me Alicia?¡±


    ¡°We thought it sounded nice. You don¡¯t like it?¡±


    ¡°I do. And what about my Chinese name?¡±


    Tony took a second. ¡°It means happiness and joy.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± She had never told him it, because she rarely needed to. Her English named was all she needed ninety-nine percent of the time. Plus, her Chinese was god awful to begin with.


    Tony took a minute, presumably typing and deleting answers as he jogged his memory. At last, he typed, ¡°Xin Yi.¡±


    ¡°Not just the han-yu ping-yin. The word itself as well.¡±


    He got it right.


    At the stroke of midnight, Alicia tip-toed past her mother sleeping on the couch and stole her credit card from her wallet. She followed Tony¡¯s instructions to transfer the money, then tip-toed to place it back. As if nothing ever happened.


    Even if her mother knew, Alicia would be the least expected person she would suspect. By the time she caught on, Alicia would¡¯ve already been on a plane with Dad off to start her new life.


    Until then, Alicia continued to send her letters to Dad. He loved reading them.

 Weapon

    When Serena reached for her wallet over lunch break today, she noticed the credit card was back side up, revealing her CVC number for all to see. She flipped it back.


    It wasn¡¯t anything to fret over, yet she took time to wonder what led to this oversight? Also, her wallet sat in the middle of her handbag for all to take, rather than in its side pocket.


    The bakery soon replaced this wondering. With Jacob sticking around longer, and his avid love for cycling, she wondered if he could be their delivery-man. The role fitted like a glove, but it was a huge ask, and working with loved ones was often a recipe for disaster.


    In the end, she decided not to.


    Today was a slow day, which gave her enough downtime to play with the hamsters. She fed them a few seeds, and watched as held it with both arms, nibbling on it with their tiny mouths. It never failed to make her smile. Gen named the one she fed ¡®Sunflower¡¯, after its favourite seed. Gen named the rest of them, too.


    Cheryl came to watch, informing them that the company had paid them their salaries. Serena whipped her phone out to check, but only found one-fifth of it.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the rest of it?¡± She nudged Cheryl. ¡°I only got like one-fifth.¡±


    ¡°It should all be there. I got mine in full.¡± Cheryl said. Gen and Kelly supported this, too.


    Serena viewed her transaction history, and her face went white. Last midnight, a transfer of nine hundred dollars was made to somewhere in India. It took four-fifths of her salary to recuperate this loss.


    Yet there was nothing to recuperate the loss she would incur this month from the reduced salary. Fuck.


    ¡°Nevermind, I misread the account balance.¡± She lied and excused herself to the restroom to curse some more. Where the hell was her money?


    She called customer support for help. No, she had not given her credit card details to anyone recently; she protected it with her life. No, no one else could¡¯ve had access to her card; she refused to let anyone touch it, not even Wei Xiang. Yes, she remembered it clearly; she did not make this transfer.


    The bank informed her they¡¯d start an investigation on this matter, and advised her to freeze her card as a safety precaution. She did just that.


    Underneath her credit card in the next slot was the polaroid. She soaked it in, and wondered how to break the bad news.


    Then it hit her.


    She summoned Alicia into her room that night, working to make herself sound sterner. It silenced the girl¡¯s typical protests.


    ¡°I got my salary today.¡± She started, ¡°But when I checked my balance, I was nine hundred dollars short.¡±


    ¡°Turn the air purifier on.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it later. Pay attention! And look me in the eye, this is serious stuff. I checked my transaction¡¯s history, and turns out there was a transfer of nine hundred dollars from my account to India. Do you know anything about that?¡±


    She shook her head as if a lizard fell on it.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    She nodded, still trying to shake the lizard off.


    ¡°Because I¡¯m gonna call the police to report this, and whoever who did this will go to jail. Understand?¡±


    Alicia flinched, which told Serena all she needed to know. Silence stuck to them like glue, wads of it plugging their voice and holding them in place.


    The girl ping-ponged between wanting to say something, then deciding against it, before regretting not speaking up sooner. Her head bobbed to and fro on this fence.


    Serena waited. She refused to believe it from anyone but her. An eternity passed before Alicia mumbled something. From her lips, it seemed like she said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Why!¡± Though she still refused to believe it, she cried as if she had already did. ¡°Do you have any idea how bad this is? We¡¯re gonna have nothing to eat for this month! Why would you do this?¡±


    Another eternity passes. It took that long for a tear to roll down her face.


    ¡°Who did you transfer the money to? Why is it to India?¡±


    ¡°Dad is coming to Singapore tonight.¡±


    Everything in Serena stopped. Blood, pulse, sweat, voice, as if she was frozen in time.


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    ¡°I found him, and he already told me the true story of what happened!¡±


    Serena would never forget what Alicia said next.


    ¡°You are a drug dealer.¡±


    Her entire life flashed before her eyes. Every face she¡¯d ever seen stared back at her and said those five words at once from every place she¡¯d ever been in.


    He started the rumour amongst her class. Her classmates spread it to the entire school. Her teachers believed them, because a school was more credible than a single student; they will never admit they expelled her for this reason.


    It made abandoning her, rejecting her, and cutting ties with her the easiest thing in the world. In fact, it was harder not to, and only Wei Xiang chose the harder option.


    This turned Fate into her sworn nemesis. This turned her unemployable, poor, homeless, unmarried, lonely. This turned her daughter against her.


    At the precise moment when the light within Alicia¡¯s eyes went out, Serena saw that look. The pupil drowning the iris in its inky blackness until no light remained.


    Those eyes used to be something different ever since they first opened. It glimmered under the hospital lights, and took its first view of the world; her. It didn¡¯t understand who, why or what she was; it only knew she was safe. She was home. So, the baby closed those eyes as Serena held her, knowing it was safe in her arms to drift back to sleep.


    ¡°Congratulations, it¡¯s a girl.¡± A nurse told her, offering her tissues to wipe her tears, ¡°What will you name her?¡±


    Serena waited until those eyes opened again to decide. ¡°Xin Yi, and her English name will be Alicia.¡±


    Her dear Alicia.


    It came out of nowhere, and it came from everywhere. She didn¡¯t mean to, and she definitely did. She swiped her hand across Alicia¡¯s face, slapping that look out of her. Those were not her daughter¡¯s eyes.


    She never wanted Alicia to look at her again.


    ¡°You slapped me! You¡¯re my Mom!¡±


    Infants did not understood the concept of emotions, and what to feel under what circumstances. Hence, when they injured themselves, they looked to their mother for guidance. If their mother laughed, they did. If their mother cried, they did.


    Alicia looked at her mother and cried.


    ¡°Who told you that fucking nonsense? Who is this fucking idiot posing as him?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not posing! I verified his identity! He is real!¡±


    ¡°Give me your phone. Now.¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    Slapping didn¡¯t work, so Serena tried pinching the ear. She dragged Alicia to her room and threw her on the bed.


    ¡°Where is it?¡±


    Alicia said nothing. Fine by her.


    She grabbed the first thing on her desk and threw it on the floor. It was a pencil, and it snapped in two. Next, a calculator. Shards of electronics ricocheted off the floor the way porcelain plates would; a violent death. Next, a pen. A book. Another pencil. A desk shelf¡­


    Then she found it, hidden under her homework. After she tore said homework to shreds, she took that disgusting screen and threw it out the window.


    Alicia shrieked and tried pulling her away. Fine by her, she was just leaving. She dragged the girl to the couch and pinned her there.


    ¡°Who told you I was a drug dealer?¡±


    Alicia threw a tantrum, beating her own head again. Not on her watch. Serena held her hands back and leaned in closer.


    ¡°Who!¡±


    Alicia continued screaming and thrashing (or at least tried to) about. Not a word went in. Serena slapped her again, harder this time. It got her to stop.


    ¡°Who told you that nonsense?¡± She asked over and over, getting louder each time.


    ¡°You did.¡± Alicia said at last. ¡°You said you didn¡¯t do those things anymore! That means you did it before, and you didn¡¯t tell me! You liar!¡±


    She slapped her again. ¡°You dare call me a liar? When you stole your phone back without telling me, and now you¡¯re stealing my money! Where did you learn all this shit from, huh? It must be that Kat, right? You must¡¯ve learnt all these horrible things from her! And I told you, I told you to stay away from her, but no! You invite her over and cook her instant noodles! You call her every day and waste your entire June holidays playing games with her and now look at your grades! You really want to fail O¡¯Levels, don¡¯t you? You really hate going to uni, don¡¯t you? You just want to exit secondary school with nothing and just start working immediately! Uneducated, unqualified for any proper job, with no future! You really like working in a pet store, don¡¯t you?¡±


    She swallowed the gallons of saliva frothing in her mouth, and before Alicia even dared to cut an insolent word in, she continued.


    ¡°I gave up my life for you! I threw away med school for you! I could¡¯ve started a clinic like Wei Xiang, or worked in a hospital! I could¡¯ve got married, and then decide to have kids! That way, I¡¯ll know it isn¡¯t you! Maybe life wouldn¡¯t be so hard anymore! But I threw it away, and all I get is you calling me a drug dealer and a liar? Wipe that disgusting smile off your face.¡± She said that, despite knowing Alicia wasn¡¯t smiling. ¡°You think you can get anywhere without me? You think you can last a single day without me? Huh? Giving you a house to live in, a bed to sleep on, clothes to wear, wonton noodles to eat!¡±


    Alicia whimpered like an injured puppy.


    ¡°I should have never had you! And you should learn to respect the fucking woman who gave birth to you!¡±


    She Wasn¡¯t Done. She stormed out to the laundry rack and took a clothes hanger. Then, just as Alicia tried to run, she corner her back to the couch and beat her.


    Again, and again, and again¡­


    Old Serena went too soft on her; new Serena will not.

 Twelve

    Fire was the only word that could describe what Alicia felt. It burned the skin of her bottom off. As much as she crawled away, her mother was always one step ahead of her. There was nowhere to run.


    The clothes hanger had jagged edges from wear and tear, which tore the flesh underneath with the psychotic and animalistic hunger of a zombie.


    She forced herself under the dining table and shielded herself with the chairs, but that was useless. Her mother grabbed her collar and dragged her out across the furniture. Her hands and legs pin balled around the chair and table legs as she tried to grab onto them, leaving bumps and aches all over. Two chairs rammed her pointer together, and formed a pulse there that supplied pain, and not blood. A wooden corner sucker-punched her knee, locking it in that angle.


    ¡°St¡ªSt¡ªStop! Pl¡ªPlease!¡± She begged, but the crying made talking impossible.


    The second best word that could describe this was acid. Poison seeping into the already torn flesh, burning it from the inside out. It was a different burning from what she felt on her skin, which melted everything away as opposed to setting them ablaze. Alicia wished she had no body for her mother to cane, which might come true if her mother didn¡¯t stop soon.


    Her mother¡¯s stare hurt more. Eyes were the windows to the soul, except in her mother¡¯s case, there was nothing inside them. It was a bottomless void which the pupil fell through. Her mother lost herself in the zone, like Alicia when she came close to beating a high score in a game of Cyber-Strikers, where stopping took more effort than continuing. Except, her mother found no reason to stop.


    Her screaming, crying, and bleeding were not a reason to stop.


    In Singapore, this was discipline, not abuse.


    Hence, no one came to save her. The neighbours would think she was a bratty teenager who deserved it. The teachers would think of her grades and believed she deserved it. The classmates would sigh, shrug their shoulders and say, ¡°That¡¯s life.¡±


    Serena had beat her long enough for Alicia to accept this as reality. The questions in her mind evolved from, ¡°What is happening?¡± to ¡°Why is this happening?¡±


    After all these years of being called her daughter, her dear Alicia, her precious, her flesh and blood¡­ Mothers could do this to their daughters?


    Unless, of course, those were lies too. Lies beyond lies beyond lies. But no longer. Tonight, Alicia unravelled them all, and stared the truth in the face.


    Alicia was her mother¡¯s curse. The fire continued burning. The acid continued melting. But there was no skin left to burn or melt. Yet, it wouldn¡¯t stop.


    Her mother would never stop. Until, out of the blue, she did.


    Acid touched adrenaline, forming a chemical reaction only visible to Alicia¡¯s body, and not her eyes.


    The reaction exploded at the centre of her chest and left her heart as black as charcoal. The nuclear fallout spread radioactive poison to every corner of her being. It poisoned the water inside her, and traces of it could be found in her tears, sweat, and saliva, which tasted sweet.


    Sweet as vengeance.


    Stop crying. She was not an infant; she knew how she should feel under this circumstance. The correct emotion was anger, not sadness. She forced herself to feel that way whilst inspecting the damage.


    Red lines ran across her skin, as if left by a rabid cat. When touched, it left a smudge of red on her fingers.


    Sitting hurts. Walking hurts. Underwear hurts. Shorts hurts. School skirt hurts. Leaving it alone hurts. Touching it hurts, and the hurt didn¡¯t stop there. An odd spot on her forearm was sore, and she couldn¡¯t raise that hand without it aching. Her right leg couldn¡¯t walk, leaving her with a limp. That pointer was still pulsing, and it couldn¡¯t grip a pen, nor tap a phone screen (not that she had one anymore). Her cheeks were bright red.


    But she had FCE today, and Mr Lee will ask her to present. Fuck you, Mr Lee.


    Only Kat noticed her sorry state, and she rushed to prop her up. Ironically, the size difference between them made just carrying her easier. But neither of them thought to do that.


    Words. She had to speak words. With her mouth, and her throat. But the words wouldn¡¯t come. She just had that wincing-in-pain look on her face. Kat had to guess her way to the answer with an endless series of yes-or-no questions.


    Eventually, Kat reached the answer. Now, she just needed to reach a response.


    ¡°You¡¯re not mad at me or anything, right? You¡¯re just going non-verbal?¡±


    She tilted her head.


    ¡°It¡¯s an autism thing. Like, you shut down and go quiet when you¡¯re stressed or overwhelmed. It¡¯s that, right? And not you being pissed at me or whatever?¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°Okay, good, just had to make sure.¡±


    Kat tried asking what happened, but the yes-or-no routine didn¡¯t get her anywhere. They took their seats in class and waited for Mr Lee to arrive. Kat suggested the period excuse to help bail Alicia from the presentation, but Alicia couldn¡¯t muster the voice to pull it off.


    Before they had time to come up with Plan B, Mr Lee called on her. She limped to the front of the class (No one noticed, or maybe they did, but said nothing), and stood still.


    Their stares cut deep, especially when it was the look. Especially when it happened now. She just limped her way out of class.


    Fuck Mr Lee and whatever protests he had against that.


    Kat chased after her and led her to the canteen, empty at this time of day. She bought two cups of lemon tea, slid one to her, and continued the questions.


    This was when Alicia realised she could type her thoughts out. She wrote the entire story on Kat¡¯s phone before taking a sip of her lemon tea.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Icy-cold, sour-y goodness. Just what she needed right now.


    Kat scrunched her nose. Alicia gave a you-see-what-i-mean look, only to realise Kat did not.


    ¡°You stole nine hundred dollars from your mom? That¡¯s like¡ªI mean your mom isn¡¯t rich, right? So this is like what¡ªhalf her salary?¡±


    ¡°Approximately four-fifths.¡± Alicia corrected.


    ¡°No wonder she went batshit crazy over you.¡±


    Alicia frowned at this. Of all people, Kat should understand. Kat should take her side.


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna need to have a serious talk with her to figure y¡¯all shit out. This isn¡¯t healthy.¡±


    Alicia slammed her cup on the table. The acoustics of the canteen amplified it until it grew loud enough to be threatening.


    ¡°What? You don¡¯t like lemon tea? Are you mad at me?¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll buy you iced milo next time. Can you take a few deep breaths and chill out? It¡¯s like¡ª¡± Kat flailed her hands, as if that explained anything.


    ¡®Why do you care about my mother? She¡¯s evil!¡¯ She typed in all caps to substitute shouting.


    ¡°What!¡± Kat scoffed, ¡°Says the girl who stole almost a thousand dollars from her! She¡¯s your Mom! It¡¯s not like you¡¯re stealing from Mr Lee or something. That, I¡¯ll understand, but not this! What the hell, man?¡±


    ¡®She¡¯s evil! She caned me! Why don¡¯t you care about me!¡¯


    ¡°Of course I care about you. Bitch, I carried you to class and bailed you out! But what you did was fucked up man! You can¡¯t do that to your Mom!¡± The way Kat said it, was how people said ¡®God¡¯ in church.


    ¡®I¡¯m going to see my Dad tonight, and if he¡¯s real, I¡¯ll fly off with him. Can you help me collect my homework, in case I come back?¡¯


    ¡°What do you mean, if he¡¯s real? What if he¡¯s not?¡±


    Alicia took the phone, and stared at the blinking cursor, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Good question. She set the phone aside, and honed her thoughts in.


    What¡¯s plan B? What¡¯s option two? Where else could she go? Kat¡¯s place; no. Zack¡¯s place; no. A hotel; she had no money. Unless there was someone who¡¯d help her with it.


    Dania.


    Bingo! ¡®There is someone at Motel 91 I can call who could help me. I¡¯ll go stay with them instead.¡¯


    ¡°Where the fuck have you been meeting all these people? Is she real?¡±


    She nodded. Unlike Tony, she saw her in real life before.


    ¡°You¡¯re seriously just going to leave your Mom like that?¡±


    Alicia banged the table. ¡®Stop siding with her!¡¯


    ¡°Dude, she gave birth to you! She¡¯s gonna care about you until the day she dies. You might as well care about her back! I mean, she won¡¯t cut you out of the group, or call you fat, or tell you to go kill yourself! Come on! Just talk to her, and figure things out. She¡¯s not evil, she¡¯s just a boomer who doesn¡¯t understand shit about us.¡±


    ¡®No. I¡¯m leaving tonight.¡¯


    ¡°Don¡¯t turn your back on family! Cause then you have no more fucking backs left.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what the school counselor said.¡±


    She stormed off, as much as she could on a limp. They didn¡¯t talk anymore after that.


    It took some hesitation before she felt safe to tell him the story on pencil and paper. His reaction to it, though robotic, was much better. He only cared about logistics. Who was Tony? Was he credible? Was her verification checks credible? What¡¯s Plan B? Who¡¯s Dania, and was she credible? What¡¯s Plan C?


    She had no answers.


    ¡°Did you even plan this out?¡±


    She shook her head.


    He sighed. ¡°You can¡¯t do something like this without any planning. What if she catches you, or you run out of money out there? You¡¯re gonna come running back home? Do you know how much worse things will be if that happens?¡±


    She didn¡¯t dare to imagine it.


    ¡°Alicia. Can you at least plan things out before you do anything? I don¡¯t want this to backfire on you.¡±


    ¡®No! I have to leave now! She beat me!¡¯ She underlined and circled ¡®now¡¯ several times.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that easy to just run away! You think I¡¯d still be here if it was?¡±


    ¡®I don¡¯t care!¡¯


    ¡°Fine. Then I¡¯m coming with you.¡±


    She blinked at him.


    ¡°When are you leaving? I¡¯ll meet you downstairs.¡±


    ¡®10¡¯ She wrote without thought. ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to end up like me.¡±


    The sacred promise. Every fibre of her vibrated like a guitar string.


    She shook her head.


    ¡°No, I want to, and I already have an escape plan in case yours doesn¡¯t work out. I have money saved up, I can pack up all my things in under ten minutes, and I can sneak out of the house through my window. I have practiced this before. I know what I¡¯m doing.¡±


    ¡®Why do you want to run away?¡¯


    ¡°Alicia¡­ I haven¡¯t played badminton in over a year. I skipped all the sessions to spend more time on studying.¡±


    ¡®Then what about the bruises on your back?¡¯


    ¡°You still don¡¯t know where they came from?¡± He looked away.


    She did. She just needed an extra second to get there.


    She nodded. Thank you.


    Tuition ended, and Zack went home. Six hours until ten. Alicia started counting.


    Hour one. She inspected her bruises again. She tried touching it, scratching it, picking it¡­ It all hurt the same. She snuck into her mother¡¯s room and stole the box of plasters, as well as her toothbrush and toothpaste. The plasters weren¡¯t long enough to cover the entire injury, nor seemed sufficient for its severity. She considered pasting several in a line, but that seemed wasteful, so she let it be.


    Hour two. She dragged the luggage bag out and began packing. She needed to cram her entire livelihood into this and her school bag. Anything that wasn¡¯t in here was as good as dead. She started with the essentials first: phone, charger, Kat¡¯s headphones, a plush (it hurt to leave the rest behind), toothbrush and toothpaste, hair-ties, pads¡­


    She took out the inessentials from her school bag: Pencil case, textbooks, files, worksheets¡­ She kept the slip of paper in her pocket. The remaining space, she stuffed as much of her clothes as possible in descending order starting from her favourites. In the end, she could only fit five complete outfits.


    Hour three. She spied on her mother baking away in the kitchen, with her annoying music blasting at maximum volume. This track was worse than the others, because it was a children¡¯s song; one about mothers. Parents sung it to their children to instil respect and gratitude. Her mother cared so little that the hypocrisy didn¡¯t phase her. It was just a casual Friday for her to mercilessly beat her daughter, then pat herself on the back for a job well done as she baked her cookies or whatever.


    Well, if she didn¡¯t care how hurt Alicia felt, then she wouldn¡¯t care if Alicia was here at all. In fact, she regretted having Alicia. She said so herself. It made sense why her mother was never proud of her now.


    Hour four. She laid in her bed and swore to herself she wouldn¡¯t let her mother get away so easily. The poison in her mind told her so. She fantasised about all the devastating lines she would leave her mother that¡¯d stick with her as much as ¡®anymore¡¯ did Alicia. Something like ¡°I don¡¯t love you!¡± or ¡°No one will hire a drug dealer as a doctor!¡± or ¡°I wish you were never my mother!¡±. It had to hit a nerve, and Alicia knew her mother¡¯s well. She swore to herself again, and again:


    She will not get away with this.


    She will not get away with this.


    She will not get away with this.


    Hour five. She gripped luggage bag in her hands and rehearsed the choreography in her mind. She¡¯d open the door, then make a beeline dash to the front door. Her mother will be hot on her tail, and she would swing her school bag around and slam it in her face. Then, it was off to Dad¡¯s, or Dania¡¯s.


    Hour six, the parts of her that hadn¡¯t been poisoned fought back for control. They pleaded her to end this madness, and simply behave. Stop herself, and behave. Be a good girl. Be a good student. Study for O¡¯Levels, and go to uni. No one will cane her if she simply did that.


    But she fought that rash, and forced herself to do the opposite. .


    Then, the clock struck ten.

 Code Red

    The music, set at maximum volume, was in a heated debate with Serena. The music argued she was a good mother who tried her best, and like all humans, failed sometimes. But she argued otherwise: she had no idea what she was doing.


    She brought up her first piece of evidence, Wei Xiang. What would he say about this? ¡®How could you do this? You¡¯re acting like your own parents. Didn¡¯t I already tell you to get help, or go to therapy? And you wonder why Alicia hates you? You¡¯re dooming Alicia to end up like you if you keep this up!¡¯


    The music had no rebuttal to this. Serena won the debate. She promised herself to keep this from him, to spare him from disappointment, and herself from his nagging.


    Instead, she mixed batter like her life depended on it, as if it was a rubber that could erase it all away if she rubbed hard enough. Her hands, still in clenched fists, stung. Her ears, still enduring deafening volumes of sound, rang. Her mind, still racing with a million thoughts, tightened.


    It would take a few weeks for Alicia¡¯s bruises to heal, and forever for Serena¡¯s. Blood only clotted broken skin, not broken hearts.


    It had been ten minutes, but the trance hadn¡¯t arrived. She stared closer, and mixed faster, erased harder. She added an egg in it, as if that made a difference. She watched the yolk swirl around the batter before it disappeared into the abyss.


    But the world was still here.


    The song ended and looped again. The batter sat in the oven. Nothing left for her hands to do. She buried herself with pillows on the couch, trying to escape via sleep, and for a moment, considered using it to suffocate herself.


    When she got up, she realised she had fallen asleep. The sky was black, the front door was open (did she forget to lock it?), and a luggage bag sat beside it. Who was going on holiday?


    Then it hit her.


    She had never woken up faster. She ran to it and saw Alicia cowering behind, tying her shoelaces. Before the girl could tie the last knot, Serena shut the door on her.


    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Fuck you.¡±


    Despite being a head shorter, Alicia towered over her. ¡°I¡¯m going to fetch Dad from the airport! And he will tell me the true story.¡±


    ¡°Alicia! How are you so stupid? Don¡¯t you know you sent money to a scammer?¡±


    ¡°I verified his identity. How would a scammer know my Chinese name?¡±


    ¡°Maybe he did a background check on you, or on me! It¡¯s not like you¡¯re hiding it!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t put it in my profile when I made my account.¡±


    ¡°So? He could¡¯ve got your name from a million other places! Your other accounts? Your school? Or even on my accounts? And knowing your Chinese name proves nothing!¡±


    Alicia lost her words, and resorted to screaming until she found them again. She headed for the door.


    Serena dragged her back in, ¡°Please. Don¡¯t do this! You promised you will never end up like me. Alicia, if you do this¡ªyou will regret it! This will stick to you for the rest of your life! Trust me! Don¡¯t be so stupid!¡±


    ¡°No! I don¡¯t trust you, or anything you say! You lie about everything! And- and I feel terrible whenever I¡¯m with you. You make me feel like there¡¯s always something wrong with me! And even when I¡¯m behaving and listening to what you say, I still feel bad. In fact, I feel even worse! But you don¡¯t care how I feel! You only want me to behave!¡± She took a moment to catch her breath.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to behave anymore. I¡¯m too lazy for that.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Alicia struck her knees and sent her to the floor.. ¡°And there is nothing wrong with me! I have autism, and that means I¡¯m different. In a good way! Mm!¡±


    Alicia stormed out and never looked back.


    But she won¡¯t let her. She propped herself up and limped right after her. The lift closed its doors on her, leaving her with an impossible dilemma: wait for the next one? Or take the stairs?


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    She took the stairs.


    Her legs squeezed themselves dry of energy like wet towels, using up all they had to reach the first floor. Despite the empty tank, she still continued brisk-walking (it was all she could manage) after Alicia. She only needed to search the nearby train and bus stop. Alicia couldn¡¯t get anywhere without public transport.


    But she couldn¡¯t check both ends of her neighbourhood at once.


    She called for help. ¡°Code red.¡± He answered.


    While waiting, she checked the bus stop. No Alicia. Maybe she already took the bus? She speed-read the board and all the stations all the buses stopped like a memory champion read a deck of cards, and concluded¡­ nothing. This information was useless to her.


    ¡°ALICIA!¡± She screamed into the sky, and her legs went.


    They snapped like toothpicks, sending her to the bench. She fought through it, and stood up again. Grave mistake. They snapped harder, then went invalid. Now, only her ankles were left to support her, and they inevitably failed. One twisted to the left, and toppled her over like a Jenga tower. The blocks crashed against the side-walk.


    Wei Xiang arrived far too late. The train or bus Alicia was waiting for would¡¯ve been long gone by now. Still, they checked the train station, just in case. No Alicia.


    ¡°Where do you think Alicia could¡¯ve gone?¡± Wei Xiang asked, as they rushed back to the car.


    She broke her own promise and told him of the scammer and Alicia¡¯s stupidity. It only gave him a million questions she couldn¡¯t bring herself to answer.


    If not for Alicia, he would¡¯ve kept pushing until she answered all of them. They recruited Carrie¡¯s help with a quick detour to his place and headed off to the airport.


    They did the same song and dance at the airport: running down every alley. Asking every person she met. Screaming Alicia¡¯s name like a lunatic.


    A nearby trolley bumped her feet, and she rammed it back with the other trolleys. But this trolley refused to budge. The wheels refused to roll. It would rather sit here and be a nuisance to everyone else, because it thought itself to be above them. Like an emperor that expected everyone to make way and kneel whenever he walked. Who did this trolley think it was?


    ¡°Just move!¡± She scolded the trolley and resorted to yanking it. This was less effective and only poured salt on her aching muscles. Then she tried beating it into submission, which only hurt her. She was losing¡­ to a trolley. It left her screaming.


    At last, a police officer on patrol came to her rescue. He parked the trolley with ease. Of course, the trolley only moved when it wasn¡¯t her pushing it.


    He gestured to the handle, and its handy infographic that explained how it was used. Press down to move the trolley. Release to brake. Do not push the trolley whilst braked.


    ¡°Why not!¡± She barked.


    ¡°It helps the trolley to brake more easily, especially when carrying heavy luggage. You may damage it if you continue to use it like this. I would be happy to help push the trolley for you. Which gate are you heading to?¡±


    ¡°No, thanks.¡± The crowd stared at her, then shook their heads to themselves and ticked the ¡®Public Nuisance¡¯ box off their list of inconveniences they¡¯d encounter at the airport. She cowered back to Wei Xiang and Carrie.


    No Alicia.


    It was the couple who had to lead her back to the car, drive her to the police station, and make the report on her behalf. They reheated leftover wonton noodles to ensure she had dinner and offered her the guest room for the night.


    They set the air-conditioner, told her where the restroom was, offered a glass of water by the nightstand, and wished her good night. Well, Carrie did; Wei Xiang still wanted to cry.


    People at their age processed the present by recounting the past. On the day itself, he was asleep when the birth happened. He woke up hours later, after Alicia had already opened her eyes, defined Serena as home, and made herself cosy in her little blanket.


    He went back to sleep after introducing himself and feeling her tiny cheeks.


    Serena stayed up all night teaching Alicia about the outside world. It was filled with heartaches, betrayals, and injustices that would drive anyone insane. But as long as they were together, they could survive it all. No one else and nothing else mattered, only they did.


    It was just them in this world. It will always be just them in this world.


    But now it was just her, crashing at her friend¡¯s place like her uni days. And it was just her, in the outside world, all alone. Alicia¡¯s entire life flashed before their eyes like a short film, emphasizing that which had and hadn¡¯t changed about her. The chubby cheeks, girly screaming, and hand-flapping never changed. The ambitions to be an astronaut, obsession with Neptune (she learned that it rained diamonds there), and the dutiful daughter in her did.


    The film was inconclusive and left them to craft the ending themselves. The ones Serena crafted were morbid and depressing. Alicia died of hunger, thirst, overdose, misery. Alicia died from a gang of junkies, a car accident, the scammer, Fate.


    It broke them.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand.¡± Wei Xiang said, ¡°Why would Alicia do something so extreme? What happened?¡±


    Serena looked away, which gave her away.


    He saw right through it, and returned to his million questions. ¡°So you said she met this scammer that pretended to be him, and then what? How did you find out about it? Did you look through her phone again?¡±


    ¡°No! In fact, she even stole it back, thinking I didn¡¯t notice.¡±


    ¡°Then? What happened next?¡±


    She waffled, which only grew his curiosity in the bad way. He asked again with a tone colder than the air-conditioner and stressed it could help them find Alicia.


    She told him everything, from the cold war to the caning, all for Alicia¡¯s sake, and watched as his face searched for a reaction, which was what she predicted: disappointment.


    Blood did not clot broken hearts, but shame did.


    Serena could feel it with every pulse that followed that look he gave her. The look that inspired him to stage the intervention and drag her to rehab, kicking and screaming. The look that got him to search her room like a detective for any hidden product every week she was there.


    She predicted he was already planning his second intervention, and was proven right the next morning. After a second search of the airport, he brought her to the therapist he¡¯d been nagging at her to call, and urged her to take it seriously.


    There was no kicking and screaming this time. Only silence.

 Thats Life

    ¡°And there is nothing wrong with me! I have autism, and that means I¡¯m different. In a good way! Mm!¡± Alicia stormed out, and never looked back.


    Even now, a part of her still hoped. It hoped that Serena would fall to her knees and say, ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯ Then, with the power of a hug, they would move on. They would talk, and Serena would learn what autism was, why she had it, and paid for her diagnosis.


    It would open her third eye, and she would see her daughter in a brand new light. Her daughter wasn¡¯t a failure, she was just different. With this epiphany, she would change. Slowly, but surely, Serena would stop asking her to look people in the eye, stop stopping her from flapping her hands, and cooked tacos with her.


    Everything would go back to normal. Back to when it was just them.


    Slowly, but surely, this part of her shrank.


    As promised, Zack was at the void deck, waiting for her. He was napping against his backpack, which looked like a sleeping bag for giants.


    She nudged him, wiping her tears away as he came to. He slung his backpack on and stood up with his eyes closed, as if his body awoke a second faster than his mind.


    He only spoke when his eyes opened. ¡°What are the directions to Motel 91?¡±


    Alicia borrowed his phone and keyed their destination into the GPS. Two hours away, with both bus and train transfers along the way. He committed the route to memory, and they set off.


    Alicia tried texting Tony on the train, and his response confirmed her worst fears, or rather, his lack of it. Tony had blocked her and deleted his account, as if he never existed to begin with.


    Ironically, this was the biggest similarity he shared with Dad.


    She only thought of Dr Wang now. He, like all adults, would take Serena¡¯s side. They¡¯d pat each other¡¯s backs for trying their best, and complain about their insolent children like they did about a shelf they struggled to assemble.


    They¡¯ve followed every step on the manual. Provide them food, water and shelter. Teach them to strive for perfect grades and avoid the screens. Scold them for misbehaving, then scold them harder if they continued misbehaving; rinse and repeat. So why aren¡¯t their children walking, talking and acting exactly the way they wanted them to?


    Are they lousy at assembling shelves, or did they buy a lousy shelf?


    Her classmates wouldn¡¯t fare better. Sure, they wouldn¡¯t blame her, but they wouldn¡¯t offer support either. They¡¯d pat each other¡¯s backs for hanging in there, shrug their shoulders and say, ¡°That¡¯s life.¡± Like a prisoner did about their abusive warden.


    What could they do about it? Stage a riot, or plan a break-out? Please, this isn¡¯t an action movie. This is Singapore. Children get caned if they don¡¯t listen. Prisoners get beaten if they looked at the warden funny.


    That¡¯s life.


    When she ran from Motel 91, she ended up having a meltdown and flailing like a dead fish, breathing their gasps of air. Now, as ran to Motel 91, she did the exact opposite.


    She did nothing.


    Said nothing, moved nothing, responded to nothing. A non-living thing that had two legs and a audio sensor. The legs moved it forward, whilst the audio sensor received commands from Zack. Turn left, watch out for the ledge, cross the street, wait for bus 89¡­


    Just like Zack¡¯s initial robotic state.


    ¡°How are you doing?¡± Zack asked.


    The non-living thing did not have a speaker unit.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. It¡¯ll be rough for the first few weeks, but after we figure things out¡­ We¡¯ll be okay. It will all be over. We won¡¯t have to even think about it anymore. We can move on.¡±


    Zack was so naive.


    ¡°We¡¯ll work there for a few years, save up a bunch of money, and buy a house, or rent it if buying is too expensive. And then we¡¯ll live together happily. You know?¡±


    She didn¡¯t.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°I¡¯m so glad I don¡¯t have to do this alone¡­¡± His voice shook. ¡°Thank you Alicia. So, so much. And I¡¯ll make sure that you never have to do any of this alone, too. Okay?¡±


    She nodded. Okay.


    They boarded the bus. What lengths would Serena go to track her down? How far will this news spread? How fast? Will the police be involved? The police¡­ She had to hide from the police, like some kind of fugitive. In the movies and shows she¡¯d watched, these fugitives forged new passports, flew to a new country, and lived under a new name. That was impossible without her passport.


    In the more violent movies she didn¡¯t dare to watch but couldn¡¯t bear to look away from, the fugitives snuck past the border through various means. In a truck, on a boat, in a shipping container¡­ Oh god, was that her fate?


    These thoughts came at her like a bucket of iced water. But unlike a bucket of iced water, the chill wouldn¡¯t leave her, nor will the water dry. Only she will numb as she adapted to this.


    That¡¯s life.


    They alighted from the bus, and she found herself back at that carpark. An afterimage of herself back then spawned from her memory, and ran past her. Zack confronted the lone staff by the concierge while Alicia rested in the lounge.


    He came back with Dania, who looked identical to her former self. Same hijab, same uniform, same make-up. Zack handled everything like a pro, as if he¡¯d practice for this: briefing the staff on their plight, striking a deal with the manager to earn their stay, and promising they¡¯d get out of their hair in six months¡¯ time.


    He needed Dania to go the extra mile, assigning herself to take care of them, to convince the manager.


    Dania led them past the corridors, which Alicia expected to be filled with junkies but wasn¡¯t, to their rooms. According to Dania, they crowded around the motel, and never inside it. The manager made sure of that.


    They set their luggage bags on the bed and followed Dania back to the concierge to join her clones for supper. Their stomachs rumbled at this, accepting the offer before their mouths could decline.


    The group went to their usual spot and ordered a table full of Prata and iced milo. Alicia and Zack ate as if it was their first ever meal in millenium.


    As they ate, the staff bombarded them with questions: Sayang, are you okay? Are you hurt? Did your parents beat you? Do you need plasters? Do you want to eat more? You two should eat more; you¡¯re both so skinny! Are you two dating¡­


    Zack did all the answering.


    After supper (dinner, in their case), they returned to their room at the corner of the top floor. It could not fit two people. Zack flicked the light on, painting the room golden-yellow. It revealed the two beds, separated by nothing but a little nightstand, which sported mattresses that felt rock solid compared to hers at home.


    The ceiling fan wobbled so much she didn¡¯t dare to set it at its maximum speed. It did nothing to help resuscitate the air in the room. Tucked in the corner was a table big enough for a single textbook. On it, a pamphlet introduced the guest to the motel and its limited amenities, most notably amongst them the single bar of Wi-Fi.


    Alicia took her shoes off and headed into the toilet. She came out screaming, wiping off the vile, wet thing on her feet and wishing to chop it off. Recognising what it was only made it worse; a cockroach. It laid on the floor, flailing its legs as madly as Alicia did as she bumped into the TV and tripped onto the bed. Zack killed with a slipper, grabbed it with a tissue, and flushed it down the toilet.


    No, no, no, no, no! She was not living here. This disgusting, cramped, suffocating prison cell! She had another meltdown.


    ¡°Woah, woah, calm down!¡± Zack rushed to her aid, though was unsure of what to do. ¡°It¡¯s okay, it¡¯s okay. We can clean it.¡±


    She continued screaming, unable to get the cockroach out of her mind. Worse yet, her morbid imagination poured salt to the wound, and forced her to picture the vile thing crawling all over her. She wanted to chop her foot off.


    It made her cry again, because what else could she do? Zack hovered his hand over her shoulder, as if stopped by a force-field from patting it.


    ¡°Can I¡ªUm¡­¡±


    She nodded, disabling the force-field. His hand made contact, which she took as permission to reciprocate by lying on his shoulder.


    ¡°I want to go home!¡± She cried out.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it after a few weeks.¡±


    Was that supposed to be a good thing?


    ¡°I¡¯ll go clean the toilet tomorrow and kill any more cockroaches I find.¡±


    She slapped the mattress as if it was responsible. This was antithetical to how the world worked. Mattresses were supposed to be comfortable, toilets were supposed to have dry floors, overhead lights were supposed to be white. She felt allergic to everything.


    ¡°And um¡­ Alicia. I know tonight has been stressful but¡­ I just¡ªCan I say something?¡±


    She nodded.


    He beat around the bush, tripped over his words, doing anything in his power to delay the actual news. This informed Alicia of the news ahead of time. ¡°I like you¡­ too.¡±


    She never thought she was the kind of girl to receive confessions, hence, she never prepared for them. But she had no mood to triple-check her words to ensure she pulled this off right.


    ¡°Okay. We can be boyfriend and girlfriend.¡±


    ¡°I¡ªUh¡ªHuh? Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She yawned, paying attention to her sleep at last.


    ¡°Can I¡ªCan I hold your hand?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Woah, really?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He approached her hand as if it was radioactive, taking forever to make contact. But once he did, a jolt of electricity seized him up, and gave him an uncontrollable need to shower.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna go take a shower. Ok, bye.¡± He said in one breath, and disappeared into the dirty bathroom. Alicia laid down, and reluctantly slept on the mattress she was allergic to. Covered in sweat, bruises, and dirt.


    That¡¯s life.

 Sewage

    The ¡®office¡¯, if Serena could call it that, that Wei Xiang brought her to did not inspire confidence. It was in a similar run-down mall overdue for demolition, tucked in a corner and cloaked in darkness.


    Why did Wei Xiang only befriend fellow failing healthcare practitioners?


    The banner above had the therapist¡¯s name, Dr Ling, written in cursive, floating on a low-resolution image of a water lily. It seemed like the type that glowed, despite it not doing so


    The ¡®office¡¯ had two rooms. The first, a receptionist desk with no receptionist and a single couch across it. Wei Xiang sat there, still glaring at her.


    The second, the therapy room itself, which was a stark improvement. A lamp in the corner embraced the walls with a soft yellow tint, like the sun on the days it spared mercy. The couch shared the same eye-candy tessellation with the rug.


    Dr Ling offered her a cup of tea, which aroma reminded her of home. She had the exact flavor and brand in her cabinets. The man had good taste in tea.


    Clothes too. The simple tee and jacket fit him so perfectly that Serena couldn¡¯t picture him wearing anything else. After a brief exchange of tea brands, they got right down to business.


    The first word brought her to tears, while the rest kept them flowing. Events were told out of order, in broken sentences and stuttered words.


    His words, soft and slow, embraced her like a kitten. They were the last thing she¡¯d ever expected to hear. They were the only thing she¡¯d ever wished to hear. Something warm, something kind, something motherly.


    A single ray of light, in a soft yellow tint, fell on her.


    With that, he asked his first question. It brought her to silence.


    ¡°What would you say to Alicia instead if you had a second chance?¡±


    Something warm, something kind, something motherly. Such as¡­


    No. She shook her head. Alicia cannot ever hear any of this. Even if she was a million miles away, she couldn¡¯t risk it. If Alicia did, she would¡­


    But that was precisely what Alicia needed to hear all along, wasn¡¯t it? The answer was already within her all along.


    God, she hated therapy.


    The first person to know Alicia was missing was Mr Lee. She was due for an FCE presentation today that would count towards her final O¡¯Level grade. As if Serena didn¡¯t know that.


    A morbid thought came to her: what if Alicia skipped her O¡¯Levels?


    She lied, saying Alicia ran a high fever, and needed the week to recover. She promised she¡¯d keep the girl on top of her studies and revision, and hung up.


    Wei Xiang spent all day printing missing posters at his clinic with Carre, while she stapled them on every surface she could find. As she did this, she brainstormed on the next spot to send the search party (herself, Wei Xiang and Carrie) after.


    A mastermind would drive across the border into Malaysia; the much bigger country to hide in. But Alicia was no mastermind. She was a child.


    Where would a child go? A child would only go to places she¡¯d heard of before, and Alicia had heard of homeless shelters from school. But Carrie had been calling those one after another, to no avail.


    The second, third and fourth person to know Alicia was missing was her colleagues. She broke the news over lunch and hexed the table with a curse of silence. Even Cheryl, the serial interrupter, dared not say a word. Perhaps because she was a fellow mother.


    Without hesitation, Kelly placed the bakery on hiatus.


    Gen offered to ask her circles if they¡¯d seen anything.


    Cheryl offered nothing. In fact, she couldn¡¯t wait to move on, but lingered out of basic human decency. Serena took several weeks off of work and headed home early. Everyone prayed for Alicia.


    She didn¡¯t need to cook the girl dinner. She didn¡¯t need to knock on her door. She didn¡¯t need to leave cookies Alicia wouldn¡¯t touch by her door. She only needed to do the chores.


    But she couldn¡¯t under deafening silence. Only the TV helped to drown it out; Serena left it on all night. She watched it without watching it, thought without thinking, and slept without sleeping.


    It all went static.


    Except a recording of that night. So, she watched it, because that was easier than not watching TV. The ray of light from Dr Ling faded away. It showed her that the void she was in wasn¡¯t black, but dark.


    It hurt more to know that.


    God, she hated therapy.


    The fifth person to know Alicia was missing was Jacob. She summarized it all in one long text, and demanded some time off from their relationship. He respected it.


    It was morning when she found the strength to move again. Wei Xiang knocked with the same irritability as an alarm clock. He brought breakfast, but she was in no mood to eat. She still had the coffee, though.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    He suggested they search through the motels and hotels across the country. They were the second refuge of the homeless, after social services. They started at none other than Motel 91. No matter how much she cried and pleaded, the staff offered no help.


    Worse, the woman who helped her track Alicia down and had the gall to claim she abused Alicia was off-duty today. Everyone left either forgot about the incident, or wasn¡¯t there to witness it.


    She switched tactics. If the motel wouldn¡¯t search for Alicia, she¡¯d do it herself. She¡¯d stay a night and inspect every room on her own. But Wei Xiang stopped her.


    ¡°What incident?¡± He raised a brow.


    She expected this to break her even further. But no, this only flared her cheeks red hot. She expected Wei Xiang to give the disappointed look. But no, he only sighed. He had already got used to the new Serena; the failed mother.


    Her justification for it was piss poor, she knew that. But she gave it anyway, because saving some face was better than none. It didn¡¯t work.


    ¡°They already said she isn¡¯t here, and I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll let you search every room like that, either.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care! I¡¯m checking in! Are you coming with or not?¡±


    Serena was one shout or cry away from being kicked out by security.


    ¡°Alicia can¡¯t even afford to stay here! She gave all the money to the scammer. And even if she can, I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll let her. Their policy must¡¯ve changed since¡ªyou know.¡±


    Her sixth sense beeped like a metal detector, growing louder the further into the lobby she went.


    Beeping, beeping, beeping¡­


    ¡°Plus, we have other spots to search too. We can¡¯t spend all our time here.¡± Wei Xiang added.


    ¡°I know she¡¯s here!¡± She stared him down. ¡°I know Alicia better than anyone. She wouldn¡¯t know where to go, or what to do, so she will only follow suggestions she heard from other people!¡±


    Wei Xiang conceded and switched sides. ¡°Can we walk one loop around?¡± He asked the staff. They obliged.


    Serena knocked on doors like the police, holding up a photo of Alicia on her phone; rinse and repeat for every floor. Nothing. She would¡¯ve suspected them of lying if not for common sense.


    The rooms on the top floor were unused. A peek through the window showed no traces of a guest inside. Next, she checked the amenities. It alone transformed the motel she knew into one she didn¡¯t. A swimming pool (albeit a small and dirty one), a restaurant (more like a cafe), and couches everywhere. It seemed business was good since she left.


    Beeping, beeping, beeping¡­


    Only the kitchen and the staffrooms remained. She tried sneaking into said kitchen and almost knocked into a waiter carrying piping hot coffee. The doors behind him stayed open long enough for her to scan the kitchen inside. Nothing.


    She sat by the lounge and watched the concierge attending to all the guests like a lion watched a zebra in the grass, waiting for her chance to strike. As the concierge staff closest to her turned their back to call someone from the staffroom, she snuck past their gaze, only to meet the manager¡¯s once again.


    They called security.


    Wei Xiang suggested they searched through other motels, but she had one last idea. She ran to the back alleys she was all too familiar with. There, a group of junkies with tattoos vandalising their skin stared at her. One of them pulled out a packet of white powder, business as per usual.


    It felt like ants crawling all over her veins.


    Wei Xiang yanked her away so hard that she almost tripped.


    ¡°No!¡± He roared, ¡°Alicia¡¯s not here! We¡¯re looking elsewhere! Get back in the car now!¡±


    Serena drove off. She knew Alicia better than anyone, and she knew nothing.


    They only had the bandwidth to check three motels with equal scrutiny, and half-assing their searches could backfire on them. Hence, they called it a day and headed back home.


    The force of stomach acid pushed against the power of procrastination; an immovable object against an unstoppable force. Her stomach acid won by a hair; just enough to bring her to the kitchen, and nothing else. The easiest thing to cook was rice and egg, hence it became her dinner.


    It tasted like nothing, which was fine with her; her tongue was in no mood to taste. By the third bite, she already felt like throwing up, but she powered through. It was better than stomach acid.


    Procrastination, however, won in the battle for chores against her pet peeve for unclean floors. She laid on the couch, put the TV on, and hid in a pillow.


    Everything plugged into her and played tug-of-war with everything else for power; they refused to share. The friction from all the pulling baked her head like an oven. They pulled until the rope snapped.


    The power went out. Everything shut down one after another until not even static remained. A complete blackout. Every switch in the power box refused to flick back on, no matter how hard she pulled the switch.


    She overloaded.


    Rest was the most important thing she needed. But her sudden idea was more important. So much so that it won against procrastination by a landslide.


    She dragged herself off the couch and into Alicia¡¯s room to search. For what? Who knows? The top few cabinet drawers were empty. Arranging Alicia¡¯s plush toys together revealed one missing from the set. On the table, her math textbook had its cover page and plastic wrap torn out, perhaps from Alicia using it as a punching bag.


    The idea was another dead-end.


    She slept in the girl¡¯s bed at night. The mattress still had her scent, though it grew fainter every hour. Every time she cleaned her room, Alicia drop everything she was doing to mess it up again. Unfolding her blanket, lining her plush toys on top of it in a circle, and taking attendance to ensure none went missing.


    After primary school, this behaviour went from cute to concerning. But Alicia never grew out of it.


    Yet, she¡¯d rather abandon all of them than live another day with her? Unbelievable! In a fit of rage, Serena threw her pillow at the window, just like how she threw Alicia¡¯s phone.


    A second idea came to her.


    She took the lift down, ran to the carpark, and stood at the exact spot where she could see Alicia¡¯s window. A rough calculation built on a poor understanding of physics told her that Alicia¡¯s phone would land on either the grass or the drain beside the sidewalk.


    She searched the grass first. Shining her phone at every blade, she found branches, litter and a coil of dog poop camouflaged in the green like a landmine. No phone.


    She searched the drain next. The contents within it were more vile. A rat scurried past the light so fast that Serena wasn¡¯t sure if it was a rat. The mere sight of sewage water made her heave and cough. From a bystander¡¯s perspective, she must¡¯ve appeared insane.


    Luckily, her insane antics ended on the two-third mark across the drain, as something peculiar sat underneath a pile of leaves. Using a loose brach, she flicked said leaves away and determined it to be a screen.


    A phone screen.


    One stick could fish the device up, but not out of the drain. About the half-way mark, it would topple off the stick and land face first into the vile liquid, splashing some on her hand.


    The stick wasn¡¯t working. She tossed it away, and prepared herself for the unthinkable. One hand was a worthy sacrifice for one clue. She rolled up her sleeves, held her breath, and dipped that hand in. It remained submerged until it had a firm grasp of the phone before it resurfaced.


    Her fingers rested on every button and pressed them as fast as they could. In one second, Serena went from surrendering after learning Alicia¡¯s phone was defunct to seeing the light as the low battery symbol flashed on the screen.


    Gagging, she ran back home to charge it.

 Eight Hours

    Alicia needed to go home. She sprung out of bed at dawn, having only slept an hour, grabbed her luggage and burst out of her room.


    She can¡¯t go home. Her bruised bottom proved it. Her clothes still brushed it in all the wrong ways, leaving an omnipresent sting that she had got used to. Though she could feel it clotting. She traced the arc of the moon with her eyes and counted the stars.


    She used to stare the full moon with Serena. Nothing of significance happened on those nights. No exchanges of vulnerability or empathy happened as they stared. It didn¡¯t last long either; only ten minutes at most.


    She thought very little of it then. She couldn¡¯t stop thinking about it now. Below her, Dania strolled through the carpark with her fellow chatterboxes, giggling and laughing at each other.


    Alicia looked at Zack, sleeping in a starfish posture, and reminded herself that she was his girlfriend now. That man was her boyfriend, and she was his girlfriend. Whatever that meant. But at least she knew this:


    She can¡¯t go home.


    Zack woke up with the sun. He showered and double-checked it for cockroaches before she did. Right as they set off to the main lobby, he asked, ¡°Can I hold your hand?¡±


    No one had ever asked that before.


    ¡°Sure.¡± She said.


    Her hand recoiled at first before burrowing into his. On top of that, their fingers intertwined. No one had held her hand like this before.


    His hand, soft as a cloud, felt like a heated massage to her¡¯s. The heat, though comfortable, caused both palms to sweat.


    Still, she kept her hand around his, because they were boyfriend and girlfriend. Holding hands was what boyfriends and girlfriends did.


    This was new.


    They let go when they had breakfast. Biriyani rice. Rice was not breakfast food. She didn¡¯t have a cup of milo either. Food without milo was not breakfast, it was a meal. With great reluctance, she ate it, and powered through how off the food tasted, how off her full stomach felt. But there was nothing wrong with her food or her digestion.


    Dania came after they finished eating and returned to hand-holding. Her look was foreign, but Alicia guessed it to be positive.  Dania got down to business. After some back-and-forth with her manager, they decided the couple needed to work at the motel to earn their stay. Alicia and Zack will become motel staff and earn a salary like everyone else.


    Alicia and Zack agreed to this. They planned to work together, until they outlined the jobs they liked and disliked.


    Alicia disliked guests. She¡¯d rather die than talk to them. She preferred working alone in the background, away from everyone. In a weird turn of events, Zack claimed he liked guests and would die if he had no one to socialise with. This was antithetical to the Zack she recognised.


    But Zack said he had always been a social butterfly who had its wings damaged by his mother. In her absence, however, the butterfly could fly again.


    ¡°But I want you to work with me!¡± Alicia huffed. ¡°We¡¯re in a romantic relationship!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I can¡¯t take it if I don¡¯t talk to anyone all day.¡±


    ¡°You can talk to me.¡±


    ¡°Well, besides you. I¡¯ll get bored with talking to the same person all day. You know?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    Zack raised a brow. ¡°What do you mean, you don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Why would you get bored by that? I talk with Kat all the time at school and I¡¯m not bored. Unless I¡¯m boring to talk to?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not.¡±


    ¡°So, why would you get bored?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know how¡ªNevermind. Let¡¯s just work different jobs. We will still meet each other when we eat and sleep.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± She crossed her arms.


    She couldn¡¯t explain it. He didn¡¯t understand it. No one noticed it.


    Zack worked at the concierge. Alicia worked at the cafe as a waiter. Her supervisor briefed her on the menu and table numbers while her head felt off. It hit her; she hadn¡¯t tied her hair. But her hair ties were back in her room, and she¡¯d doubt the supervisor would let her.


    For eight hours today, her head felt off.


    She had thought to describe this off feeling to Serena several times, but could never find the right words for it. Hence, she never got around to it. The best word she had was ¡®distress¡¯, which she learnt from her research into autism. ¡®Disruptions in their routines could lead to distress and possibly cause meltdowns.¡¯


    But ¡®distress¡¯ wasn¡¯t accurate; not even close. Distress described the feeling of falling behind on homework or missing a bus. This off feeling was worse.


    It also worsened.


    She hallucinated faults in everything. Biriyani, a perfectly normal food, tasted weird. Waiting tables, a perfectly normal job, felt like a waste of time. Untied hair, a perfectly normal state for hair to be in, felt messy. Her lack of explanation made her doubt the emotion altogether.


    Maybe it didn¡¯t exist, and she was imagining things. Maybe this was her faul. Maybe she just needed to grow up.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Either way, she had eight hours of spare time to host this debate. Eight hours. A third of the day, whilst another third was spent sleeping, leaving her with a third remaining. That cut her time in half for her to study¡ªNo, she didn¡¯t need to study or revise anymore, because she stopped going to school.


    No school. No school uniform with the itchy tag she kept forgetting to cut off. No sandwich during recess. No Kat. No Cyber-Strikers. No O¡¯Levels. No FCE coursework. No stationery. No worksheets. No files. No bags. No Vinn¡­This was good news, right?


    No school holidays either; this wasn¡¯t relaxing. No TV. No phone. No tacos. No research for anything, let alone autism. No Dr Wang. No staying up and waking up late¡­


    There was only coffees and eggs to serve.


    Her breathing sped up, and Alicia came close to another meltdown. Where was Zack? Where was Dania? How long had it been?


    She checked the clock; one hour. Seven more to go, for five days a week, forever.


    Oh god.


    She served the coffee and ran to Zack and Dania. Dania offered the staffroom for her to hide. What was she doing? What was she doing? What was she doing? Serena was right; she was a child. Stubborn, immature and stupid. She needed to go home.


    Zack came in and sat next to her. She held him for dear life.


    ¡°I want to go home.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± He held her back. ¡°You¡¯ll adapt. You just need time.¡±


    ¡°Have you adapted?¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡± He shrugged and trailed off.


    ¡°How!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I just¡­ I don¡¯t know how to explain it.¡±


    She beat her own head once before Zack could stop her.


    Dania came in next. ¡°I need both of you to hide in here. Your mother is here and I¡¯ve asked the staff to cover for you. Don¡¯t move and stay quiet.¡± She placed a finger over her lip.


    Alicia and Zack covered their mouths.


    She could go home now. She just needed to walk out.


    Walk out. Stand up and open the door. Go home.


    She stayed plastered to Zack, as if he was the only source of fire in a harsh winter. Without him, she¡¯d freeze to death. Through the wall, she heard her mother crying, screaming, and pleading.


    Walk out now.


    Walk out now.


    Walk out now.


    After telling herself that a hundred times, someone knocked on the door. Dania poked her head out and gave them the all-clear. ¡°Okay, your mother is gone. You can go out now.¡± She checked her watch. ¡°It¡¯s also time for lunch, so go take a breather and eat. Do you want to join us?¡±


    Alicia shook her head. She didn¡¯t walk out, but she cried.


    For food, Dania discussed with the kitchen to give them a stove in the corner during off-peak hours; though they only had an hour. Dania advised them to use their salary to buy a portable stove and pot to cook in their room in the future.


    Zack had brought a few packets of instant noodles in his backpack, and used two of them for their lunch today. Though she hadn¡¯t cooked one before, she imagined it wouldn¡¯t be too different from Kat¡¯s pasta.


    She was right. With Zack¡¯s help and a chef¡¯s supervision, cooking went smoothly. They collected their noodles and took a seat at the corner table of the cafe.


    A thought struck her. She could get her hair tie now. Zack offered to do it for her, and came back with a bright pink hair tie.


    Colourful hair ties were for weekend outings, whilst colourless ones were for everyday use.


    ¡°Wrong colour.¡± She clicked her tongue. ¡°Can you get the black one?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m hungry. I¡¯ll get it later. Can¡¯t you just use the pink one?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s for when I go out, usually during the weekends.¡±


    ¡°Just use the pink one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get it myself.¡±


    When she returned, Zack had finished his noodles.


    She tied it in the exact centre of her head, and let out a relaxed sigh as her head returned to its correct state. It was like finally using the restroom after holding it through an exam.


    Only then could she eat lunch in peace if Zack weren¡¯t itching for a chat.


    ¡°How¡¯s the job?¡±


    ¡°Mm!¡± She stomped her foot.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m eating!¡±


    ¡°Ok¡­so how is it?¡±


    ¡°I Am Eating!¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t talk while you eat?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s distracting!¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay, sorry.¡± He sat back in silence.


    Only then could she eat lunch in peace if Dania didn¡¯t interrupt.


    ¡°Are you two okay?¡±


    She shrieked, and stormed off with her bowl, ¡°I¡¯m eating alone!¡±


    Only then could she eat lunch in peace.


    She got back to work afterwards. The numbering system for the tables clicked in her head: arranged in descending order from back to front relative from the kitchen. She understood some abbreviations of the and lingo used by the chefs.


    Then came the foot pain. A million pebbles pressed against her soles. They were dull, hence it didn¡¯t feel like a stab. Yet, they were heavy, so it still hurt. Back pain; it didn¡¯t hurt as much, but still contributed to the fatigue. Sore arms; they felt like string that were knotted beyond excess, which required an eternity to undo them one by one.


    Peak hour arrived next. Guests flooded everywhere, threatening to capsize the entire motel in queries and requests. All hands were on deck, cooking and serving at lightning speed.


    If food spilled, no one had time to clean it (unless a customer asked them to). If phones rang, no one had time to answer them. If things dropped, no one had time to pick them up.


    This poured salt and squeezed lime all over the pain, doubling it in severity. Thank god she only had two hours left. She spent those hours focused on only one thing; the next order. The next order. The next order.


    Peak hour ended as quickly as it began.


    As a gift to welcome her to the team, her supervisor gave the excess serving of Eggs Benedict from a wrong order earlier for free.


    She headed back to her room to find Zack already there, sketching. She sat next to him and watched as line after line brought a robot woman to life. The same woman she had seen ever since they started tuition.


    The coincidence made her chuckle.


    ¡°How was work?¡±


    ¡°Everything hurts.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, same.¡±


    ¡°The girl is a robot?¡± She pointed to the sketch.


    ¡°Yeah. I was practicing how to draw girls first, and then I added the robot stuff on top later.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a girl!¡± She chirped.


    ¡°Ok, I¡¯ll use you as my reference next.¡±


    ¡°Okay!¡±


    Maybe Alicia didn¡¯t need to go home. She could make do in the winter with a fire going.

 Special Needs

    The tech repair shop had good news and bad news. The good news: they booted the phone to life (she brought it here after charging it failed to work) and bypass the password. The bad news: they couldn¡¯t repair the scars disfiguring the screen.


    Not the cracked glass; that could be replaced.


    The screen. They came in colours of green, blue and purple, and etched deep into the motherboard underneath. Yet, it didn¡¯t obey the motherboard. It didn¡¯t move with the screen as Serena swiped and tapped, nor could it.


    No circuit or transmitter could budge it even by a pixel, because scars didn¡¯t move. That¡¯s how scars disfigure.


    Scars were also prone to infection, especially when left in sewage water for a few days. A rash of magenta pixels broke out everywhere, clinging onto the widgets like bubblegum. It slowed every response to a crawl, that is if they responded at all.


    The shopkeeper suggested she bought an upgrade and save herself the trouble.


    It didn¡¯t take long for this diseased screen to pop a vein in her head. She had to wait a second for every tap to be registered, only to discover the device had misunderstood her. Then, she had to wait another second to correct it, only for it to backfire.


    All she achieved was reading the full conversation between Alicia and the scammer. Hm? This was the account of her classmate. Had they turned to a life of scamming, or had a scammer hacked it?


    Either way, Alicia fell for it.


    Another vein popped when she read the scammer¡¯s lies. That¡¯s where it came from. One pathetic guy in India scamming a poor little girl. He had the gall to call Serena a drug dealer, and tell the girl he was proud of her.


    This bait would¡¯ve never worked if Serena herself told Alicia that more often.


    This was her fault. Everything was her fault.


    Dr Ling, in an unexpected turn, did not disagree with this sentiment, at least not immediately. She almost criticised him for not doing his job until he asked a question.


    Again, it silenced her.


    ¡°What is it like living a life where everything is your fault?¡±


    The longest silence followed. So long that she felt guilty for wasting his time.


    ¡°Do you have children?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Twin boys. In primary school.¡±


    At least he¡¯s a parent. But not a single parent. The silence continued.


    ¡°I¡­ It¡¯s sad. I guess.¡±


    He nodded.


    ¡°What is it like for Alicia to live a life knowing everything is your fault?¡±


    She knew ¡®your¡¯ referred to her in his question. But her mind preferred an alternative: What is it like for Alicia to live a life knowing everything is her fault? Then it was back to more silence.


    Serena told herself that the goal of finding Alicia made invading her privacy justified. The Notes app spared no effort to arrange Alicia¡¯s diary entries, as the scars had engulfed the options to do so. The scars also covered the left portion of the document, which she had to zoom and pinch past. It was like pulling on a rubber band, and the document snapped back to default size whenever she let go


    This back-and-forth drove her up the wall.


    It took much willpower to resist throwing this phone out the window again. After copying the letter onto the back of an envelope, she read it to herself:


    ¡®Why do people shake hands? I don¡¯t like touching random people¡¯s hands and feeling their palm sweat all over mine! Ew! Mom keeps forcing me to shake hands with everyone and it¡¯s disgusting! When we meet, can we not shake hands please?¡¯


    What was wrong with that girl? All this fuss over a mere handshake. No one else had issues with it, so why her?


    It wasn¡¯t just handshakes either. She also made a fuss over eye-contact, fish markets, normal markets, the MRT, cookies in the oven¡­


    Why would anyone think about this? Handshakes were handshakes, eye-contact was eye-contact, fish markets were fish markets¡­ What was there to think about?


    Weird.


    ¡®She thinks everything I do or don¡¯t do is weird. I hate her. What¡¯s so wrong about staring at cookies bake? I like to see the dough rise! The only time I¡¯m not weird is when I do exactly what she says¡­¡¯


    She blinked, then rebutted as if Alicia could hear it, ¡°No! But for forty-five minutes? How could you not¡ª¡± She smacked her head with moderate force.


    The girl¡¯s lack of common sense, complemented with the stubbornness to listen to anything unless it was explained in detail, made everyone¡¯s blood boil.


    It¡¯s like playing the why-game with an annoying kid. Why do people make eye-contact? It¡¯s respectful. Why is eye-contact respectful? It displays attentiveness. Why does it display attentiveness?


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Ugh.


    ¡®...only Kat doesn¡¯t think I¡¯m weird, and her parents don¡¯t think she¡¯s weird either. Maybe it¡¯s because she¡¯s autistic? Would Mom stop thinking I¡¯m weird if I was autistic? Or will she think I¡¯m even weirder? Do you think I¡¯m weird?¡¯


    Autism. So that¡¯s why Alicia shouted that. It didn¡¯t sound like a proper word to her.


    Kat. That friend she told Alicia to stay away from. But no, the girl became best friends with this bad influence. The idea to run away probably came from her.


    And the place to run to.


    She called Mr Lee for help. He scheduled a meeting between her and Kat tomorrow. It happened in the middle of class, where she had to watch as Mr Lee summoned her out. Everyone gossiped about it.


    Kat¡¯s posture alone confirmed her predictions on this bad apple. Arms crossed, eyes rolled, and zero greetings made. Alicia learnt it all from her.


    She felt pity for her parents. This child must be a nightmare to discipline. Or perhaps she ought to feel contempt, as this behaviour may come from a lack of parenting. Or perhaps she ought to stop judging, seeing that she fared worse than her parents; at least their daughter was still here.


    They talked in the empty canteen.


    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m¡ª¡±


    Kat headed to the drinks vendor to get herself a cup of lemonade. No prior notice, no polite apologies, no question of whether she wanted one too. Kids nowadays.


    She tried again, ¡°Hi, I¡¯m¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where Alicia is. It was a surprise to me too, okay? Why can¡¯t the both of you just talk to each other? All she told me was she was heading to the airport to meet her father. That¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°You¡ªOkay, then what did you say?¡±


    ¡°I told her not to turn her back on family. She didn¡¯t listen.¡±


    The filial piety contradicted everything else about Kat.


    ¡°Did she say anything before this?¡±


    ¡°She hates you. She thinks you don¡¯t listen to her, and she wants to stop masking her autism.¡±


    As suspected, Alicia learnt this nonsense from her nonsense friend. ¡°So you¡¯re the one who told her about this autism nonsense?¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± Kat rolled her eyes. ¡°If you want me to help you, I suggest you chill the fuck out with the ableism.¡±


    ¡°Why did you tell Alicia that stuff?¡±


    ¡°Stuff¡­ Did you even listen when Alicia talked to you about it?¡±


    ¡°Tsk! Are you this rude to everyone you meet?¡±


    ¡°Says the ableist.¡±


    ¡°What is A-blist?¡± Kids nowadays. ¡°I don¡¯t understand your teenage slang, okay?¡±


    Kat snickered, ¡°You seriously expect Alicia to like you when you call her nonsense? A-U-T-I-S-M. Fucking google it. Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s not a drug, I promise.¡± She smiled with the passive-aggressiveness the part-timers at the pet store did towards Cheryl when tolerating her sharp words.


    ¡°You say don¡¯t turn your back on family, yet this is how you treat your parents?¡±


    ¡°Oh no, I only treat ableists like you this way.¡± Another passive-aggressive smile.


    She shook her head and left in a huff. Kids nowadays.


    She googled ¡®autism¡¯ after punching her steering wheel like a punching bag and blowing her reddened knuckles, which hurt to the touch.


    A developmental condition? As if! Alicia was a perfectly fine and normal girl. Plus, there was no way Wei Xiang would miss it.


    Special needs were impossible to ignore. No one could overlook the weird look on their faces, in their postures, and their mannerisms. How they stared at all the wrong places, talked to no one but themselves, and the weird tics possessing their hands and legs. It was alien.


    One time, she met such a kid on the train. Not only was he playing music from his phone at maximum volume, he was also singing and dancing to it.


    Everyone saw the ¡®special needs¡¯ on him and hence extended their politeness to let him be. Even the mean-spirited folks kept their mockery to a whisper.


    Alicia was nothing like that.


    That was, unless she considered Alicia¡¯s first visit to the fish market. But the girl was Primary one; wasn¡¯t it just a childish fit? Better to consult the girl¡¯s doctor than try to be him.


    Wei Xiang and Carrie were more than happy to have her over for dinner, and their initial reactions agreed with her: Alicia was nothing like that.


    Then, the doctor in him took over. Did Alicia exhibit symptoms of this condition?


    Yes, Alicia checked a few boxes, as did every teenager on Earth. They all lacked the manners and respect for socializing. Their stubborness was the same as a ¡®rigid pattern of thinking¡¯. And who hadn¡¯t played with their pens out of boredom once or twice; which they called ¡®stimming¡¯.


    Paying thousands of dollars for a doctor to tell her what she already knew was the dumbest waste of money she could ever conceive of. Wei Xiang could do it for cheaper.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t my area of expertise, that¡¯s why I¡¯m asking you to find another clinic. They could catch things that you or Alicia may not even know about, and give Alicia the help she needs. If she¡¯s diagnosed, that is.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not!¡± Serena groaned. ¡°I know Alicia. She¡¯s my daughter! There¡¯s nothing wrong with my daughter! She¡¯s just going through her teenage phase. You said it yourself.¡±


    ¡°Where on earth did you hear me say there¡¯s something wrong with Alicia?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡ªAlicia doesn¡¯t need a doctor! She just needs to behave and listen to what I say!¡±


    ¡°What if she struggles to behave because she¡¯s autistic?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not!¡± Serena raised her voice. ¡°Stop looking at Alicia like that!¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Like¡ªlike she¡¯s some broken thing that needs to be fixed in rehab with all the medicine and the therapy and the whatever!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a drug addiction, Serena! Autism doesn¡¯t require a code red! And I never thought of you like that!¡±


    ¡°Bullshit. Do you know what it feels like to live everyday knowing it¡¯s all your fault?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to fix you, I was trying to save you! You know the difference, right?¡±


    She rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Right?¡±


    ¡°Thanks for dinner.¡± She left.


    She drove and drove without a destination, because that was preferable to driving home. The city whizzed past her, as did a thousand memories in a thousand fragments which played out of order. Only one question bound this chaos together, one that she asked herself this morning: What is it like for Alicia to live a life knowing everything is her fault?


    Her phone buzzed. A text from Cheryl.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re still taking time off, but meet me at the pet store tomorrow. I know where she is, I¡¯ll help you find her.¡±


    Serena drove back home.

 Date

    Alicia received her salary on her day off today, which always coincided with Zack¡¯s. After rent, she had a few irresponsible hundred of dollars to her name. The bright orange notes were like trays filled with hot coffee. One slip was all it took to burn herself.


    Zack treated his salary more matter-of-fact-ly and suggested they buy groceries. But who in the right mind would trust Alicia to buy groceries? The girl who couldn¡¯t discern the ripeness of an apple.


    Whenever they left the motel, Dania tagged along to look after them. Zack hit it off with her after learning about their shared appreciation for animation. They discussed the work of artists they both liked, and introduced those the other hadn¡¯t heard of.


    Alicia watched them from behind whilst calculating the groceries they needed for the month. One packet of instant noodles equated to one meal, which came in packets of six. They cooked two meals a day (Dania bought them breakfast, and the kitchen offered free cups of milo), which meant they¡¯d finish a packet of six in three days. A month would require ten packets.


    Ten?


    On top of those ten packets, she also needed to consider their toppings. Eggs, vegetables, meat¡­ How many carrots were in five hundred grams of carrot? It gave her a migraine.


    ¡°What shows do you watch?¡± Dania asked. Zack was buying apples; he knew how to discern its ripeness.


    ¡°I don¡¯t watch shows.¡± She said.


    The conversation died after that.


    Zack surfaced an oversight in her planning when he returned. She had calculated the amount of groceries they needed, but hadn¡¯t discerned what they were and where to buy it. The labels identifying everything by name would¡¯ve been helpful, if not for the fact that she recognised food by taste instead of name. Serena always filled the gap.


    She recognised only one name. The name of the vegetable that made her throw up without fail: celery. She avoided it like the plague.


    In the end, she picked a few at random and hoped for the best. It was only when Dania helped her calculate the groceries by the checkout could Alicia let her breath go. She could buy groceries.


    Zack gasped with the excitement of a child seeing their favourite dinosaur. After they packed everything into plastic bags, he dragged them to a poster that caught his eye. It showed a robot with an uncanny expression that creeped her out.


    It advertised a new art exhibition featuring some of his favourite artists, and a panel discussion on the use of artificial intelligence in art. There was also exclusive merchandise to be sold at the gift shop. He had to go!


    Before he ran to the motel, he only got to visit these once in a blue-moon: when his mother¡¯s schedule kept her out of the house all day, and he could afford the ticket fee with his savings (or the exhibition was free), and he found an ironclad alibi to explain his disappearance.


    Even when he did, the paranoia of being caught by her or his relatives (her spies) prevented him from enjoying the exhibit in peace. But now, he could.


    ¡°It¡¯s nearby too!¡± He showed the address on his phone. A ten-minute walk.


    Alicia read the bottom of the flyer. Admission ticket, 25 dollars; expensive. Even if they had the money, they shouldn¡¯t spend it. They needed to save as much as possible, just in case¡­


    ¡°Alicia. You don¡¯t have to worry anymore. Your mother isn¡¯t spying on you around the corner. All of that is in the past now. Now, we can enjoy things like this in peace.¡± He smiled from ear to ear. ¡°Not just art exhibits, but things that you want to do as well! It¡¯s our second chance. Remember that.¡±


    ¡°I have to stand for eight hours everyday until I get a headache! That is not better!¡±


    He folded his arms. ¡°Well, the exhibition is gonna close soon. I¡¯ll use my salary to go attend, and you can save yours.¡±


    Their lives were on thin ice. One slip was all it took to hit rock bottom. Overspending by accident, running out of groceries, not paying rent, underperforming at work, the manager changing his mind on a whim¡­


    Serena did this everyday?


    Zack spent his off-days getting to know the entire staff, from the concierge to the kitchen. Then, he¡¯d come back and give her the highlights: Nadia writes poetry in her spare time. Chef Ahmad lost a finger in a childhood accident. Karim, their manager, had a baby last year; he¡¯s overwhelmed by it.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Alicia spent her off-days in bed, wondering when the ceiling fan would drop. She held her plush toy close to her chest, and watched the blades spin, spin, spin¡­ Zack always invited her to things, like window-shopping or taking a walk, and she always declined.


    He¡¯d look all guilty and explain how his mother never allowed him to enjoy window-shopping or walking before. But he had a second chance.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been where you¡¯re at¡­ and taking a walk always helped. Without my parents knowing, obviously.¡±


    She still declined.


    It¡¯s been so long since she had researched tacos she forgot their recipes. Not that anyone cared anyway. Not that anyone asked her about it (except Kat, but that¡¯s beside the point). Not that she could cook it.


    She could¡¯ve if she remembered to buy the ingredients earlier when they got groceries, but she was too busy thinking about how Serena did this every week.


    Zack returned with a different offer. ¡°Let¡¯s go on a date. I¡¯ve never¡ªHave you gone on a date before?¡±


    Her understanding of dates came from movies. Candlelight dinners, picnics, or long walks on the beach; it always ended in a kiss. Only couples did that, whilst everyone else dreamt of doing that. Except, she wasn¡¯t everyone else anymore; she was the couple.


    She would not let exhaustion prevent her from being a girlfriend, so she accepted.


    ¡°Dania offered to pay for the movie tickets. We won¡¯t be wasting money, don¡¯t worry. The movie¡¯s 3D animated!¡± He chirped.


    Knowing that this was a date, Dania trailed two steps behind in silence.


    Zack had a bounce to his walk as he rattled off about the director¡¯s previous works, and the inspirations he gathered from that man. One hand gestured, whilst the other held hers as tightly as he was excited.


    All she understood from that rant was ¡°Favourite director.¡± Context filled the gaps, resulting in, ¡°Zack aspires to be like his favourite director.¡± To that, she  ought to respond with something supportive.


    Something girlfriend-ish. ¡°I know you¡¯ll get there in the future.¡±


    ¡°I guess so¡­¡± They bought their tickets (Dania waited outside) and took their seats. Zack lifted the cup holder between their seats so they could glue themselves together.


    The warmth was comforting for only ten minutes before it got humid. Right as she tried to separate herself, Zack placed his hand around her back and squeezed her in. It rubbed her skin the wrong way, akin to how handshakes made her feel. She excused herself to the toilet.


    This was new and weird.


    She pulled the cup-holder back down when she returned. After the movie, he ranted about the movie for eternity, interspersed with questions on her thoughts.


    But she had zero thoughts on the movie. ¡°It was nice. The animations were pretty.¡±


    Zack stared at her, wide-eyed. This meant people wanted her to carry on talking.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any other thoughts on the movie.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s it?¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°Ok¡­ Cool.¡±


    The conversation died after that. They strolled about silently for a minute, deciding which store to window-shop in with their eyes.


    She asked if he liked tacos; he shrugged. She asked if he know how to cook one; he shrugged. She asked if he¡¯d like to learn to cook one; he shrugged.


    ¡°What do you wanna do now?¡± He asked afterwards.


    It was her turn to lead.


    She blanked. She had ideas plagiarised from the movies, but she disliked them. A candlelight dinner was just a dinner in darker lighting, a picnic was just a meal, but eaten outside, vulnerable to the elements, and a walk along the beach would be fun if not for the texture of sand.


    The ideas she liked, meanwhile, weren¡¯t date ideas: cooking tacos, playing Cyber-Strikers, researching topics for fun trivia.


    So, what now?


    The ticking clock on the remaining hours of their day off and on Zack¡¯s patience did not help with the brainstorming. She suggested they return to their room and research something. Find interesting trivia together.


    Zack gave that look. He was not like Kat, even if he was her boyfriend. She suggested a more palatable option before he could disagree; ice-cream.


    They bought ice-cream and had it together on the way back. The sun set in the distance, painting the sky a brilliant orange and melting their ice-cream faster than they could eat it.


    There weren¡¯t enough tissues in the world to keep the chocolate from running all over their hands and onto the floor. It also wasn¡¯t enough to wipe the tears from their laughter.


    It made no sense, but melting ice-cream was the funniest thing they¡¯ve ever seen. The laughter only distracted them from eating, allowing more ice-cream to slip through their hands. Acknowledging this, they hurried one another to eat, which only induced more laughter.


    It was a vicious cycle.


    After they finished it and washed their hands, they huddled together on the bed whilst Zack sketched. They both agreed to do this again next week. Zack suggested they visited a museum. Alicia thought of cooking tacos together, but suggested they take a chance at the motel swimming pool.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to swim.¡± He confessed, ¡°No one taught me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, my mother taught me how to swim.¡±


    ¡°Tsk.¡± He turned away.


    ¡°Did I say something wrong?¡±


    ¡°Can you stop bringing up your mother or my mother? We¡¯ve already been here a few weeks. Why are you still clinging onto the past? Just move on.¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡± She turned away too.


    ¡°I¡¯m not blaming you! It¡¯s just¡ªIf you stopped thinking about it, maybe you¡¯ll enjoy things here more and appreciate what you have, instead of being depressed all day. You might feel better.¡±


    ¡°I miss her.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t. It¡¯ll only make you feel worse.


    The conversation died after that. The date didn¡¯t end in a kiss. The fire grew weaker.

 Abuse

    Serena found herself hidden in the staffroom after Cheryl had barked orders at the part-timers to work faster, and not let her catch them using their phones again. Otherwise, she¡¯d fire them.


    Cheryl kept eyeing the door as she spoke, as if sharing classified government documents: Zack ran away from home the same day and time as Alicia did, and she¡¯d like to lend her a helping hand in finding them.


    Feeling a loss for words and pressure to respond, she repeated everything Cheryl said as a question. Cheryl suggested they go over to hers and search for clues in Zack¡¯s room before doing the same in Alicia¡¯s.


    Serena agreed.


    Cheryl always decorated her house as if it was Chinese New Years. Everything in it was designed to maximize luck and minimize misfortune. Feng shui took priority over function. A giant ¡®fu¡¯ was plastered in the bedroom, and by the TV sat a mandarin orange plant.


    But once misfortune struck, Cheryl lost faith in these superstitions, and tore them all down. For better or worse, the house replaced its festive personality with another; a can of worms. The tiny bin in the corner overflowed with cardboard boxes and plastic bags sporting every food brand known to man, but that wasn¡¯t the worst part.


    The worst part was the cans of beer balanced on top of it.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you drank.¡± Had losing Zack reduce her to this, or reveal her to be this all along?


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    Sweat broke out as she stood by Zack¡¯s door, hesitant to enter. If only she had such self-control concerning Alicia¡¯s room. It annoyed Cheryl.


    ¡°Privacy?¡± Cheryl felt as offended by this as a teacher hearing foul language from their students. ¡°Privacy allowed them to run away from us, Serena! This is what happens when you don¡¯t keep tabs on your kid!¡± The sketchbook she threw almost hit Serena in the eye, if not for her quick reflexes. ¡°Look through that. See if there¡¯s anything useful.¡±


    The first page alone sent her jaw to the floor. It was a sketch of¡­ Alicia. Her ponytail, her uniform, her little habit of playing with pens. He captured everything with such detail that it warmed her eyes.


    ¡°Oh, my god! You never told me Zack was so talented at drawing!¡± Out of everything Cheryl boasted about, how did she leave this unmentioned? She had a Van Gogh in the making!


    ¡°Ugh!¡± Cheryl grunted, snatching the sketchbook from her hands. She tore it out, squeezed it into a lifeless ball, and threw it in the corner.


    Serena went white. ¡°Why did you do that?¡±


    ¡°I always told him to focus on his studies, and he never listens! No matter how much I try, Someone needs to beat some sense into that boy! And he¡¯s so clever, choosing to draw¡­ It¡¯s not like I can confiscate paper from him! He needs paper to study!¡± She tossed the sketchbook back to Serena and opened the second can.


    ¡°Calm down! I mean¡­ Zack could use his drawings to get into a good school through DSA. And even if he can¡¯t, it¡¯s still an impressive talent.¡±


    Serena flipped through the other pages, which held previous versions of the Alicia sketch. The trial and error he went to capture the girl¡¯s features.


    ¡°Talent¡­? You think this talent can earn any money in the future? Serena, this weak-minded attitude of your¡¯s is exactly your problem! You Are Too Soft On Her!¡± She wagged a finger.


    She excused herself to the couch while Cheryl continued searching. Cheryl didn¡¯t notice, nor did she notice her missing husband. Above the TV laid something that no Singaporean family was complete without; a cane.


    Did it hurt more or less than the clothes hanger?


    Dr Ling¡¯s stance on it was¡­ well, he didn¡¯t have one. Contrary to her expectations, the discussion was not clear-cut, and she wasn¡¯t the villain for doing that to Alicia.


    The only clear-cut thing was how much his questions stunned her. Even if she could see it coming, she never saw it coming. It got under her skin. ¡°How did Alicia feel when you caned her?¡±


    Unlike his other questions, though, it wasn¡¯t the question itself that stunned her, but what came after. Alicia felt scared, hurt, guilty, obviously. Hence, she should¡¯ve never done it.


    But that was the point.


    Once a child felt scared, hurt and guilty, they will never repeat their mistake again. A child will never touch a boiling kettle again after it scalded his fingers. It was common sense.


    What¡¯s the problem?


    Cheryl joined her on the couch with a comically red face. At least she ran out of alcohol to drink. She passed her yet another sketchbook. ¡°Bottom left.¡±


    It was an address¡­ In Malaysia? A quick search showed the address belonging to a dingy motel.


    ¡°We leave tonight. Your car. Get home and start packing.¡±


    But Alicia was afraid of the MRT. How could she pull this off? Unless she wasn¡¯t alone. Unless she had an accomplice to help pull this off.


    ¡°Do you¡ª¡± She froze, unable to decide if hearing Cheryl¡¯s stance was useful or counter-productive. ¡°How often do you cane Zack?¡± She looked at the wooden stick.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Cheryl burst into tears without warning. She looked away, as if talking to someone else. ¡°Not nearly enough, clearly! I thought I had it all figured out! Where did he learn to get such guts to defy me? When I find him¡­ I¡¯m gonna¡ª¡±


    Looking back, Cheryl snapped out of her trance.


    Serena endured the stench to give her fellow mother a pat on the back. Their hearts broke together.


    ¡°What if¡­ Cheryl, I think¡­ maybe¡­ caning is the problem?¡± She winced. A million counter-arguments, all rational and self-evident, cropped up the moment these words left her mouth.


    Cheryl scoffed at this. ¡°It¡¯s how it¡¯s always been done, and look at us! We turned out fine!¡± They agreed to drive tomorrow morning to avoid traffic.


    Serena drove home, forced dinner down her throat, and opened the luggage bag. Cheryl had a point; they turned out fine. All the caning, and her arms and legs were still intact. While those who were never caned turned out worse; still stuck in the village planting and harvesting crops under the sun until retirement.


    What¡¯s the problem?


    Once their phones detected a dip in traffic, they set off. With their luggages in the trunk, phones in their pockets, and aluminum cans in the bin; Serena forbade any from entering the car.


    This would¡¯ve soured the mood, if not for their shared tastes in music. They filled the car with their high notes and voice cracks. Yet it wasn¡¯t enough to ward off the emotions. Soon, they found themselves back at square one; trying not to cry over their kids.


    ¡°You know, when I was looking through Zack¡¯s sketchbooks, I found a drawing of Alicia. I think he likes her.¡±


    Any parent in her shoes would forbid this. Yet, the hopeless romantic in her rooted for it. There was a unique kind or romance one could only experience in their teenage hood Serena wished Alicia would. But on the flip side, once said romance ended, there came a unique kind of pain she wished Alicia never experienced.


    She had mixed thoughts on this


    ¡°Ugh. That boy¡­ he only knows how to think about girls, girls, girls! If we find him, I¡¯ll handle it. Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    Hearing all this tied her stomach into knots. Perhaps she had taken Cheryl¡¯s advice too close to heart. But who was she to doubt Cheryl¡¯s advice, anyway? It made sense, whereas her approach drove her child away.


    Well, Cheryl¡¯s approach did too.


    The checkpoint officer inspected their luggages and passports, and she prayed he didn¡¯t ask about her red eyes.


    ¡°Have you ever ran away from home, when you were younger?¡± She asked Cheryl.


    ¡°Ha! I wasn¡¯t that brave.¡±


    ¡°I did with my ex at the time¡­So stupid.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s where Alicia got the idea from.¡±


    They laughed painfully.


    ¡°Even if I find her¡­ Alicia will never look at me the same way again.¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± Cheryl swatted. ¡°Don¡¯t concern yourself with all that. What¡¯s most important is we find them and get them back under control.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious, Cheryl. The way she looked at me¡­¡± More tears spilled. ¡°I was so angry¡­ I didn¡¯t even hold back.¡± She imagined the bruises she left on the girl.


    How could she not bleed from this?


    ¡°Ah, please. It¡¯s not as bad as you think. Plus, their bodies will heal. You¡¯re worrying over the wrong thing.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Something fell from her chest to her gut. ¡°How¡ªWhat¡ªHow hard did you cane Zack, then?¡±


    ¡°Not hard enough.¡±


    Her sweat chilled. ¡°How hard?¡±


    Cheryl noticed her face going white before she did. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°How hard?¡± She pulled over.


    ¡°What now? You¡¯re gonna give me some grand speech about how caning is wrong and we should treat our children with love and kindness and forgive everything they do, and let them do whatever they want! You are gonna give me parenting advice? Need I remind you that your daughter ran away from home because you can¡¯t control her?¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    She mustn¡¯t agree with Cheryl, but Cheryl had a point. What¡¯s the alternative to caning? A friendly talk over a tray of chocolate chip cookies? She already tried that. In fact, she tried everything. Caning was the last resort. Having nine hundred dollars stolen from her demanded the last resort.


    What¡¯s the problem?


    ¡°I was kind enough to help you find Alicia! And this is how you¡¯re gonna treat me? My son is in JC! My son scored the top of his cohort! My son is a talented artist! What has Alicia ever done with her life?¡±


    The something in her gut snapped everything inside her. ¡°Get out of my fucking car.¡±


    ¡°You dare stand in the way of a mother finding her boy?¡± Maternal instincts. Its raw power combined with a woman of steel like Cheryl made her unstoppable.


    But Serena had it too. ¡°Out!¡± She screamed.


    Cheryl clicked her seatbelt off and struck.


    Before Serena could react, she found herself back home plastered against the wall as Ma held a stick in her hands, inching closer and closer. As a girl turning eleven, she could see that death was imminent. As a woman turning forty, she could see that it was a weak stick.


    Death still felt imminent. It will never stop feeling imminent.


    That¡¯s the problem.


    She shrieked like a girl turning eleven, blocked, and struck back with the strength of a woman turning fort,y channelling maternal instinct.


    ¡°Get out!¡± she repeated.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll find him myself, and if I do, I¡¯m not returning Alicia back to you. She can rot all by herself!¡± Cheryl took her luggage and stormed off.


    Serena closed the trunk and drove off.


    Her colleague. No, her manager. No, her fellow mother. All the advice she took¡­ No wonder Alicia ran away.


    She read everything Cheryl said with new eyes as she waited for the concierge: ban all technology, only use tough love, and always be in charge.


    No record of them. Cheryl was wrong. Fuck!


    She punched her steering wheel, cried some more, and drove home. A familiar sign caught her eye an hour in on the way back. It pointed left; to a road that deviated from the highway into the forests.


    That road, which the sign pointed to, led to the village. It led to home.

 Honeymoon

    Alicia didn¡¯t know what started it, only when it did; the hair tie. Zack kept bringing her the wrong one, and today was the final straw. Colourless for everyday use, colourful for outings. How hard was that to understand? He wouldn¡¯t need to if he simply stopped taking it for her, that busybody.


    It was her hair tie. Leave it alone.


    Zack thought otherwise, and found her ungrateful for his efforts of sparing her a cold lunch. Efforts she never asked for. Efforts that backfired, making her life unnecessarily difficult.


    A cold lunch didn¡¯t bother her though. Why couldn¡¯t he understand that the colour mattered? Why couldn¡¯t she find the words to explain why it mattered?


    ¡°Forget it, just take it yourself! Everytime I try to do something nice, you just hate it, for whatever funny reason you come up with that day!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t come up with those reasons on that day! I came up with it long before that! And I had my hair ties neatly arranged in my drawer when I was at home, but there¡¯s no space to arrange it here because your clothes take up so much space!¡±


    ¡°Stop talking about your home, or my home! We are not there! It¡¯s been one-or-two months already, stop bringing it up!¡±


    ¡°But I¡ªMmm!¡± She could say something, but why bother? He wouldn¡¯t listen. Whatever!


    Zack stormed out the room. He spent the night having supper with Dania and her friends. She spent the night watching them take off from the corridor railing. If they ate tacos, she would¡¯ve joined with no hesitation.


    From that day on, Zack no longer helped Alicia take her hair ties.


    They couldn¡¯t live at the motel forever. The manager will reach his last straw one day. They needed a plan B. But, Zack was uninterested in forming one. He trusted his friendships with the staff to stand the test of time. Plan B was all up to her.


    Step one of Plan B was to get jobs outside the motel that paid more and demanded less from her body. She¡¯d rather die than spend every night with crippling feet pain. Researching for jobs would¡¯ve been easy if she had a phone to research with. Or, if Zack agreed to the idea and helped research for her.


    Without it, all she could do was think until her head hurt.


    She didn¡¯t know when it started, but Zack kept his eyes glued to the phone whenever they went grocery shopping. Dania did too, calling her family from Indonesia.


    Zack, meanwhile, oogled at art. He would find one that caught his fancy, then tug her arm hard enough to annoy her, and ask her to notice it; some artist jargon she didn¡¯t understand or care about. Annoyed by her lack of enthusiasm (even though he started it), and showed it to Dania instead.


    He was never annoyed with Dania¡¯s reactions.


    Whenever she consulted him on what groceries he¡¯d prefer, she either had to repeat it until he heard her, or rephrase it until he answered anything besides, ¡°Anything.¡±


    Then, at checkout, she had to double-check the cart to weed out the random packs of sweet or bars of chocolate he tossed in behind her back, and troubled Dania to return it.


    He insisted to keep the chocolate for her¡­ She didn¡¯t know what he meant to say by pointing to his gut. But she knew he did this nonsense all the time! Turning everything into some stupid guessing game instead of just talking!


    Just say ¡®period¡¯, and no, she didn¡¯t need chocolate for it! Why would she like that?


    Just say ¡®kiss¡¯, and no, she did not want his mouth, where he eats, on her face. Why did couples do that?


    Just say ¡®talk more often¡¯ and provide her a list of things to talk about instead of ¡®socialise¡¯, whatever that meant. And no, she did not want to do that with everyone in the motel. Why would anyone?


    From that day on, she refused to talk to him whenever he was on his phone.


    Dania was interested in Plan B, and offered the helping hand Zack refused to. She gave a brief and confusing explanation of the job selection process, from application to interview, and tasked her with something painfully adult: make a resume.


    Though, the simplicity of it sparked suspicion. The list of all her achievements, work experience, and a self-summary took less than fifteen minutes to write out.


    Surely, she was missing something, like her classmates who realised the question on the back page of their exam papers too late. But no, her list gained Dania¡¯s approval. She helped Alicia digitize and store it on her phone.


    Dania also offered her phone to let Alicia research. It rehydrated Alicia, and brought some colour back into the world. Things were no longer off. After she copied some taco recipes to paper, she got to job-hunting.


    Here came the reason why this was an adult responsibility. What did any of this mean? She read so much, yet understood so little. Supposedly, they described the company, the job, and employee perks. It meant nothing to her.


    She didn¡¯t understand why Zack never came to her bed. Even when she didn¡¯t go over, he wouldn¡¯t take the initiative to come over. Was going over a job unique to her, the girlfriend?


    Also, he kept requesting to touch her. To feel her hair, to hug her in random times throughout the day, and to hold her hand for as long as humanly possible; the exchanging of sweat didn¡¯t phase him. Yet, she never requested a single touch from him. Was requesting touch a job unique to him, the boyfriend?


    When the totals were tallied, the job of a girlfriend outweighed the boyfriend¡¯s. She had to tolerate his sweaty palms, his obtuse body, and his smell 24/7. While he got have a laugh with everyone and visit the art exhibitions of his dreams.


    He got to talk about art all he wanted, yet she hadn¡¯t shared one word about tacos or autism or anything. Not fair.


    She tried tipping the scales. ¡°Do you like tacos?¡±


    ¡°I guess? It tastes okay.¡±


    She quoted him, ¡°But tacos are important.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    Forget it.


    ¡°Do you play Cyber-Strikers?¡±


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Ew, no. That game is just a rip-off of another game! I tried it once¡­ It¡¯s so unbalanced, and so buggy.¡±


    ¡°Mmm! I want you to be interested in what I¡¯m interested in! And you should, because that is your job as a boyfriend! It¡¯s not fair!¡±


    ¡°Huh? What¡¯s not fair? That I don¡¯t like some trashy rip-off game?¡±


    Forget it. God, she missed Kat¡­ and Minty¡­ and oddly, her classmates that never spoke to her. At least they all played Cyber-Strikers.


    If he didn¡¯t want to come over, neither did she.


    From that day on, she stopped watching him sketch at night.


    It took Dania until now to notice the discord. She pulled her aside one day, asking for details. Alicia shared everything, and by the end, she found herself dying to punch something, or someone.


    Dania calmed her down with a few deep breaths before she offered her two cents: This was normal. It happened after the end of the honeymoon period. Now came the real test of the relationship.


    But she had told him about the hair ties multiple times; Zack didn¡¯t listen. He didn¡¯t understand why the colour mattered, and she couldn¡¯t explain it.


    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t he think the colour matters?¡±


    ¡°Because he¡ªI don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Ask.¡±


    Right after they clocked off, she pulled Zack into their room and turned on the standing fan. After their complaints about the ceiling fan, the staff brought that in as a substitute.


    ¡°We need to talk. Why don¡¯t you understand the colour of my hair ties matter?¡± She asked.


    He took a moment to adjust before explaining that it was merely the colour. The hair tie worked the same regardless of it. She mentioned the off feeling, only explaining how bad it was, rather than what it was.


    ¡°Fine. Sorry. Then how come you don¡¯t get why art is important?¡± He retorted.


    Art was just pretty pictures to her, which pleased the eye as much as snacked pleased the mouth. What more was there to it? Zack was on the verge of combusting. He went on another rant, but this time, she understood; art to him was what tacos were to her. Guilt ensued. She promised to pay greater attention to his art, but it exhausted her.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired from doing all these things to be a good girlfriend. And you don¡¯t do as much work as I do! It¡¯s not fair!¡± She followed.


    He disagreed. He bent over backwards to be a good boyfriend. Prioritizing her emotions over his, throwing every gesture of romance on the wall to see what stuck, and trying to lift her out of depression.


    Oh. She didn¡¯t know that. Also, what emotions?


    He refused to share, because it only made things worse. This was antithetical to communicating. Alicia insisted on an answer.


    ¡°Fine! Just¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ Maybe I also miss my mom sometimes.¡± He mumbled, ¡°But I shouldn¡¯t, obviously.¡±


    Oh. She didn¡¯t know that.


    An idea came to her. One so outlandish, so far-fetched that any sane person would discard it. But she couldn¡¯t. ¡°What if we communicated with¡­ them.¡±


    He laughed. Of course he¡¯d shut it down without thought.


    ¡°This is why I didn¡¯t wanna bring it up! It makes us wanna go home and abandon all logic! Because oh¡­ it¡¯s my mom! I love her so much!¡± He mocked in a sing-soing voice.


    ¡°I do!¡±


    ¡°Well she doesn¡¯t!¡±


    He was wrong. Serena loved her. She loved Serena. It was just the two of them in this world, that¡¯s how it worked; no matter how many worlds stood between them.


    A paperclip was always attracted to a magnet, and Alicia will forever be Serena¡¯s paper clip. They will forever attract, as per the laws of physics.


    So how could Serena beat her as hard as she loved her? How could a daughter make sense of this?


    She couldn¡¯t wait for Zack to be convinced any longer. ¡°I think I¡¯m going home.¡±


    Alicia zipped her luggage bag open. There were three reasons she knew this was the right choice. One, she wanted to give Serena a second chance. Two, she hadn¡¯t apologised for stealing nine hundred dollars from her. Three, the laws of physics.


    Zack stood in the way of the closet, ¡°This is why I don¡¯t want to talk about it! This is what happens when we communicate!¡± It was his turn to convince: he offered to draw her again.


    Again? He had never did that before. Alicia chalked it up to a verbal error, and remained unconvinced. ¡°I need to get my clothes. Move.¡±


    ¡°What about us?¡± He held her hand. His didn¡¯t feel warm anymore. The fire went out.


    If she went home, she¡¯d likely get her phone back, or a new phone altogether. They could call.


    ¡°We won¡¯t last if we go long distance!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only two hours away by MRT.¡±


    He hugged her, and reminded her of the horror again, and again, and again. The memories squeezed the life out of her head. ¡°Look, I¡¯ve been there before. I know how you feel. You think oh, she¡¯s your Mom! She loves you! If you just talk to her, and tell her how she¡¯s hurting you, she will stop! Right? WRONG! It¡¯s a lie! If they can bear to beat you, they will never feel bad for beating you. If you go home¡­ the caning will never end. Never.¡±


    Zack removed his shirt and pointed to his back. Faint red lines all across it, ¡°Look! Look at it! One stroke every single day! Some of them haven¡¯t even healed yet!¡± He turned around, ¡°Don¡¯t end up like me. He placed a hand over his heart, and the tears rolled.


    It was the first time he saw Zack cry.


    ¡°Alicia. I love you.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± It made her cry.


    He hugged her again. Tighter. ¡°You saved my life!¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Can I tell you something I¡¯ve never told anyone else?¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Where was this going?


    ¡°Um¡­ firstly, trigger warning, ha-ha¡­¡± His laughter was like broken glass, ¡°I¡­ uh¡­ before my mom got me to become your tutor, I¡ªum¡­¡±


    Every fibre of him started trembling; an earthquake incarnate. He trembled so much he couldn¡¯t speak. The next minute were just filler words as he tried and failed to compose himself several times,


    ¡°I tried to kill myself.¡±


    What could Alicia say to that?


    ¡°And I¡­ helped you?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I saw you with your friend, and the two of you¡ªI just couldn¡¯t let someone as cheerful as you end up like me. So I just thought¡­ I¡¯ll just stay here for a while¡­ see if your Mom actually sucks¡­ and if she is, help you stay happy with my escape plan.¡±


    ¡°What plan?¡±


    He took out a second sketchbook from his closet. This wasn¡¯t filled with sketches, but bulletpoints and diagrams. ¡°I have been planning this since Sec 1 You gave me the guts to finally pull it off. And it¡¯s not perfect, I¡¯m not that smart, but¡­ We¡¯re doing fine here. Better than I ever expected, in fact! You knowing Dania made everything a lot easier.¡±


    She still shook her head, Serena didn¡¯t beat her half as hard as that. Serena didn¡¯t even have a cane. It was a mistake.


    Zack shut that down too. He claimed Serena did it on purpose to force obedience, respect, and gratitude onto her. It was impossible to cane a child by accident.


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand¡­¡± She pulled the suitcase to her.


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t understand!¡± He shoved it away.


    She pulled it back, he pulled it away. The tug-of-war went on until Zack took a more drastic measure. He towered over her, and repelled her to the wall.


    His eyes went black. ¡°I¡¯m doing this for your own good! I¡¯m protecting you, you idiot! Stop being so stubborn!¡± He raised a hand.


    Not again. She blocked her face with every part of her body as winter froze over, but nothing happened. Through her hands, she saw Zack put his hand down. It took a moment before she felt safe to do the same.


    ¡°Was that on purpose?¡± She asked, shaking a little.


    ¡°No.¡± He mumbled, and brought her luggage to her. She resumed packing. He didn¡¯t stop her.


    This was new, and weird, and painful.

 Mahjong

    Serena turned left down that familiar road once again. Past the long stretches of farmland, and longer stretches of trees. During a game of hide and seek within these stretches, a falling durian missed her head by an inch. She took it home afterwards and ate it for petty vengeance.


    Oh, how she missed it when life¡¯s biggest threat was falling durians.


    After those stretches came the lone houses; scattered by the road and home to the mysterious. She would¡¯ve assumed the owners had passed if not for the fresh piles of laundry on the drying rack. Her old friends, the imaginative rascals, believed that anything but humans lived there. They merely posed as humans to conceal their true nature. It made for enticing ghost stories to exchange at school.


    Oh, how she missed it when life¡¯s biggest mystery was the owner of that house next to the run-down basketball court.


    Then civilisation returned as she entered the village. She blared her horn, and a few stray dogs made a mad dash for the bushes on either side of the road. She¡¯ll never understand how some people could go about their lives disliking them. Every one of them was the same; a giant baby who wanted food and a playmate. She¡¯d doubt if Alicia was hers if the girl hadn¡¯t inherited her love for dogs.


    Oh, how she missed it when life¡¯s biggest joy was scratching a dog¡¯s belly and seeing its back leg kick wildly in bliss.


    Oh, how she missed home.


    She parked by her old house, and her old friends assaulted her with a series of bear hugs. After Ma and Pa had passed, their friends moved in to look after it, and kept the light on for her every Chinese New Year¡¯s.


    This impromptu visit brought them over the moon. They invited her to lunch with the excitement of an Alicia in primary school and bust out the mahjong table. In a village as small as hers, there were only three things one did for entertainment: mahjong, karaoke, and gossip.


    The third was everyone¡¯s favourite.


    They caught her up with everything as if she had to cram it for an exam. This neighbour next door passed away, that neighbour next door got married to a westerner. This neighbour down the street moved out, that neighbour down the street was now in a wheelchair after a motorcycle accident.


    She caught them up with everything: She met a new man, but nothing¡¯s serious just yet. Alicia was taking O¡¯Levels this year, and she¡¯s woefully unprepared. She started a bakery with a colleague, and it¡¯s going well.


    Joining their lunch below the table was Pineapple, the latest stray dog to seek refuge here. They gave him all the chicken bones a dog could ever dream of.


    It was quite the feat that the old gang could keep the house functioning over all these years and upgrade it to keep with the times. Her old bedroom was now a computer room, filled with those gaming computers with the rainbow lights Alicia wished for. The TV had a resolution high enough to not hurt the eye, and internet access; it was better than her TV! Most importantly, they replaced the claustrophobic dog crates with a chain of linked fences that could stretch as wide as the dog needed.


    Either out of sentimentality or oversight, some parts of the house remained unchanged. The ceiling fan, eroded to an ugly brown, still spun so slowly it held no purpose. The toilet still had a faulty lever, and still needed to be flushed with a full bucket of water.


    Insects were still omni-present, and the bug zapper still sat on the top of the fridge. One time, her brother zapped a large beetle and somehow set it ablaze. He cheered as if he scored free ice-cream.


    Speaking of the devil, its bell echoed in the distance, and one of the gang had already left the table. He didn¡¯t ask anyone what flavours they wanted; he didn¡¯t need to.


    Each with an ice-cream and tissue in hand, they dumped out the mahjong tiles and shuffled them. Alicia tried playing once, but she preferred stacking them into pyramids and towers. The clacking thud they made always made her flinch.


    It didn¡¯t take long for them to address the elephant in the room: where¡¯s Alicia?


    Serena told the story again. They played a few rounds as they absorbed the news, until one thought of something to say, ¡°Like mother, like daughter.¡± He laughed.


    That was Ah Kang, the wannabe comedian. She smacked him until he apologised. The rest of the table said what she¡¯d already heard a million times from Wei Xiang and Dr Ling.


    Next to contribute something new was Ah Xing. She aged like fine wine. She was the rebel amongst the women in the village. It was rebellious to not want children here. ¡°At least you went looking for her.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess.¡± It still felt like it happened yesterday. ¡°You know¡­ that¡¯s the worst part about it! They didn¡¯t even look for me! If they tried to but couldn¡¯t find me, then that¡¯s a different story, but¡­¡± she groaned.


    ¡°We went looking for you. Your siblings too. We searched everywhere, even the train station.¡± The last one at the table to speak was Ah Bai, who left the village, but returned to look after his aging parents.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°Thanks¡­ and sorry.¡±


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s okay. We were all young and stupid, and your parents were crazy!.¡±


    ¡°Now I¡¯m old and stupid.¡±


    ¡°Clearly.¡± Ah Kang joked. She smacked him again.


    They continued playing. Pineapple sat underneath them, and everyone took turns scratching his belly when they took breaks. Because she played the least, she played the poorest, and only won twice today.


    After dinner, they folded up the mahjong table and bust out the karaoke machine. They sang songs, and reminisced about all the previous times they heard it.


    Serena sang these songs in her car every day to work. They sang it in their living room. None of them were tired of it. Alicia would never understand true music like this.


    After their voices went hoarse, they went for supper. Alicia never grew hungry past nine, and hence never experienced the joy of supper; a pity. They ate the unhealthiest burgers known to mankind, flooding in oil and salt, then promised themselves to exercise tomorrow to lose the calories.


    No one would exercise tomorrow.


    As they threw the packaging away, Ah Bai noticed a red spot on Pineapple¡¯s stomach. On closer inspection, it appeared to be a mosquito bite. He reached for the mosquito repellent, only for Serena to swipe it away.


    Human mosquito repellent were harmful to dogs, idiot. Just leave it be and ensure Pineapple doesn¡¯t scratch it. It will heal on its own.


    ¡°How do you know this stuff, anyway?¡± Ah Bai sounded ticked off.


    ¡°Who are you kidding? This is Serena Liu Yi-Sheng  (doctor) you¡¯re taking to!¡± Ah Kang chimed in, licking grease off his fingers. ¡°Of course she knows dogs can¡¯t use mosquito repellent!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a doctor. I can¡¯t practise medicine.¡±


    ¡°You can practise on Pineapple!¡± He smirked.


    Ah Xing nudged Ah Kang, who had hit a soft spot. ¡°It¡¯s not the end of the world, Yi-Shan.¡± Easy for them to say. Mahjong, karaoke, and gossip were enough for them.


    To prove her point, she told them about Wei Xiang¡¯s clinic, and the reason behind the fight that drove Alicia away. She omitted it earlier to save face. Now, she couldn¡¯t care less.


    Silence ensued. Even Pineapple stopped barking at motorcyclists driving by. They¡¯ve ran out of things to say about this decades ago.


    ¡°At least you went looking for her.¡± Ah Xing repeated. ¡°Instead of falling into self-delusion!¡± She frowned.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah. Prepare yourself. Your crazy parents came up with some noble story of how they were ¡®letting you go¡¯ and ¡®letting you find your own path¡¯ ! They said it was all for your own good! Ugh!¡± Ah Kang and Ah Bai supported this notion of disgust.


    ¡°Huh, I didn¡¯t know that.¡±


    ¡°They told themselves this story until the very end. They said that you¡¯ll find your way back to them, and spent their last days waiting, waiting, waiting¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    They called it delusion, but Serena called it truth. It was crazy to spend the rest of your life in denial that they didn¡¯t love her because they gave up on her. But it was insane to believe they loved her because they gave up on her.


    Her parents were insane, and so was she that day. Like mother, like daughter.


    She drove back down the highway after a round of Kaya toast at the coffee shop next morning. She turned right and entered the heart of the forest. The rocky path made for a ride so bumpy she grew concerned for the state of her tyres; but she pressed on.


    Past the shack, up the slope, and right by the tree with a carving etched on the wood stood a broken fence. She killed the engine and yanked it open. The rocky path made every step a calculated risk, where one wrong move would send her into mud.


    After killing ten-or-so mosquitoes, and regretting not bringing mosquito repellent, she arrived. Before another tree with a carving sat two headstones.


    Still nervous, she stalled the inevitable by clearing the branches, leaves, and rocks off them, and washed it with a bottle of water. The nerves cleared once the water ran out.


    She cleared her throat, ¡°Ma. Pa. I¡¯m here.¡± Twenty years of distance sat on her lips, which trembled under its weight. ¡°You have a granddaughter. Alicia¡­ Yes, I kept the baby!¡±


    The bragging continued for as long as she could. Alicia¡¯s Sec 4. Alicia was out there in the real world, surviving all on her own. Alicia had the courage to run away, just like her. She started a bakery, and she intends to plagiarise every recipe Ma came up with, and give credit where credit¡¯s due; none was due. She has¡­she has amazing colleagues like Cher¡ªlike Kelly and Gen. And sure, she had achieved little, but who cares? They¡¯re dead. No one could hear their disappointments anymore!


    Take that!


    She reached for water, only to remember she wasted it all cleaning their dumb headstone.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you thought that was a good idea, and I can¡¯t believe it worked! I found my own path!¡± She chuckled, ¡°You have a pretty fucked up way of caring about people, you know that? Even if you love me, and even if it worked, it¡¯s still so¡ª¡±


    She shook her head. The pot calling the kettle black.


    ¡°Thanks, I guess.¡± That came out more sincere than expected. ¡°Siao! (Insane)¡±


    Serena promised herself to never be insane again.


    She drove back to the old house and tasked the group to cut out a dog cone for Pineapple from some spare cardboard. It ended up being a large circle, with a hole just big enough for Pineapple¡¯s head to fit through.


    With the makeshift cone on, Pineapple couldn¡¯t reach his mosquito bite. It worked for now. She instructed them to give it to any dog who scratched themselves too much.


    ¡°Yes, doctor.¡± Ah Kang joked. She didn¡¯t smack him.


    They played mahjong until her phone detected a dip in traffic, and she bid everyone farewell, promising to bring Alicia here when she finds her.


    It was midnight when she arrived back home, and the next morning when her grey life resumed.


    Until Alicia returned colour to it. Over the phone, the girl asked in a feeble voice, ¡°Mom¡­ Can you come pick me up? I want to go home.¡±

 Two of Us

    Alicia finished packing. She set the luggage back by the lounge and bid all the staff farewell. Dania took it the hardest and made her triple-check that her mom wouldn¡¯t abuse her again. Still, she kept her door open, offering her place to stay if she triple-checked wrong.


    Alicia triple-checked.


    Zack sat by her luggage bag, as robotic as the day she met him. Somehow, this hurt more. Dania gave her a hug.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, sayang, it happens to all of us. You¡¯ll heal from this and come out stronger.¡± If she hadn¡¯t said that, Alicia could¡¯ve stopped herself from shedding tears.


    ¡°Go talk to him.¡± Dania insisted.


    Sitting an arm¡¯s length away, she said, ¡°We can still call when I get my phone back, and I can visit¡ª¡±


    ¡°You still wanna date me, and go long-distance. Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only an hour by MRT,¡± she mumbled.


    ¡°You still want to date?¡±


    She scratched her head. Does she?


    ¡°Alicia¡­ just go home. Don¡¯t worry about me. I¡ªIt doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s fine. Just go, okay? Good luck.¡± She could see his shoulders tense. That, she learnt, was how he hid the pain. ¡°And¡­ I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m an asshole.¡±


    ¡°So¡­¡± She rubbed her hands together, ¡°We aren¡¯t¡­ dating anymore? I¡¯m not your girlfriend anymore?¡±


    ¡°Of course not! Why would you wanna date me?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Okay.¡± This happened in the movies too. They called it a break-up. Makes sense, because she felt broken.


    Chef Ahmad rushed out of the kitchen with a tupperware of biryani and passed it to her. He prepared it the second he learnt she was leaving. He promised her this would be the biryani that changed her mind on biryani forever.


    Alicia doubted it.


    ¡°Bye.¡± She waved everyone goodbye.


    ¡°Mom¡­ can you come pick me up? I want to go home.¡±


    If Mom knew she lived with the junkies, Mom would die. So, she opted to meet her at the nearest MRT station instead; a ten-minute walk from here.


    When Mom arrived half-an-hour later, Alicia was no longer cold. They rushed into each other¡¯s arms and held each other. It was just them again. Sweat and tears drenched them both.


    The memory of Mom reading her a medical textbook as a bedtime story came to mind. Any word with more than three syllables made her laugh.


    ¡°I love you,¡± Mom cried out.


    ¡°I love you too,¡± Alicia cried out.


    Mom examined her like Dr Wang: was she hungry? Thirsty? Hurt anywhere? Feeling okay? Tired? Sick? Safe¡­


    The examination moved onto her lifestyle: did she eat enough? What did she eat? Was it healthy? Did she come across any danger? Did she come across anyone dangerous? If so, did they threaten you? Did they demand things from you? What things? Your things, your money, or worse, your body? Did she drink¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± She answered. That assured Mom for now.


    Afterwards, they got in the car and drove back home. Mom had her music on, but she didn¡¯t mind. In fact, this song was quite catchy.


    When she had a million things to say, there was nothing she could say that would be enough; not even close. This perfectionism left her speechless.


    So Mom started first. ¡°Where did you stay all this time?¡±


    The sixth sense tingled. ¡°Um¡­¡± She looked out the window and saw, ¡°A church. They took me in because they¡¯re like¡­ a charity place and stuff.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thank god you didn¡¯t stay at those dirty motels! Surrounded by all those junkies!¡± Mom shed more tears. ¡°I was so worried! Me and Wei Xiang searched everywhere!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for running away¡­ and I¡¯m sorry for stealing your money.¡± She looked at her shoes.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, I should¡¯ve been more understanding and listened to you more, and I¡¯m sorry for caning you. That was abuse. I will never cane you again.¡±


    She nodded. A small part of her doubted this.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Mom asked about the church. Luckily, Alicia needn¡¯t lie much to keep her cover story intact: she worked at the church to earn her living.


    Mom was impressed. ¡°So you bought your own groceries? Cooked your own food?¡±


    She nodded.


    Akin to the breakup, Alicia broke all over again.


    ¡°My dear Alicia¡¯s all grown up.¡± She ruffled her hair into a mess. Alicia left it messy for a while before retying it.


    ¡°This might sound like a weird question but¡­ Did you see Zack?¡±


    Again, the sixth sense tingled. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ okay. He¡¯s missing too, and Cheryl is looking for him, but she¡¯s a terrible mother!¡± Mom held the steering wheel in a death grip. ¡°I hope she goes to jail!¡±


    Alicia did too.


    They reached home. The first thing she did was to reunite her plush toy with its family, and hug every single one. She wormed about in her bed like a silly dog as the soft mattress embraced her.


    She would not miss the rock solid mattresses at Motel 91.


    Mom left her to readjust while she informed everyone of the good news. Dr Wang insisted on coming over for dinner. The second thing she did was to fix her math textbook using tape. She returned everything back to her drawers, which fit.


    She would not miss the tiny closet which Zack took up a half of.


    The last thing she did was to find her phone. Mom broke the bad news: it broke. But she soon replaced it with good news: she¡¯ll buy her a new one, alongside a laptop. She flapped her hands, but stopped herself before Mom could.


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s okay. There¡¯s nothing wrong with it.¡± Mom flapped her hands, too. ¡°Just maybe control it when you¡¯re at formal events.¡±


    She flapped her hands.


    Dr Wang hugged her the moment he exited the lift. He, the actual doctor, scheduled an immediate check-up tomorrow to ensure her well-being. He brought over the herbs she liked to smell.


    ¡°What did you cook out there?¡± He whispered, ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you only ate instant noodles.¡±


    ¡°I added vegetables!¡± She protested.


    Mom cooked wonton noodles. Yay! She wolfed it down, refusing to respond to what anyone said. But no one did. Conversation only returned after everyone finished their meals. They spent the night watching TV whilst interviewing her like journalists.


    The most amusing question came from Carrie: did you meet any cute boys out there?


    She answered no. Zack wasn¡¯t cute, he was handsome.


    After Dr Wang left, they went into Mom¡¯s bedroom. Mom turned the air refresher on and patted the space next to her. Alicia crawled there and rested on Mom¡¯s shoulder.


    Then, they communicated.


    ¡°Alicia, do you really want to know what happened to your father?¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°Okay.¡± Mom took a breather. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you the real story, from beginning to end.¡±


    She listened.


    Mom gave a quick recap and continued where she left off.


    After they ran away, Mom and Dad checked into Motel 91 (Alicia flinched at this). They begged and begged for the manager to spare mercy, and offered to work to earn their stay. At night, Dad explored the neighbourhood. He showed her what he found next morning. One day, the trivia he shared was a small packet of white powder.


    The powder hooked them, as did the money they earned from selling it. Rent cost peanuts, as did food and water. They spent the rest of it shopping to their hearts¡¯ content and buying more powder for next month.


    Then, the prices dropped. Meanwhile, their demand for it rose. They used more powder than they sold and yielded lesser profits. Rent was expensive again. Dad blamed her for it and punished her in unspeakable ways. Mom refused to elaborate on this.


    Dad also struck a partnership. A gang offered to take care of them if they helped them run ¡®errands¡¯. She begged him to reject it, but he didn¡¯t. Not even the positive pregnancy test was enough to change his mind.


    He ditched her for them and never looked back.


    The motel manager caught wind of this, and kicked her out, taking a hardline stance against junkie scum. If not for Dr Wang, she would¡¯ve died.


    After Alicia had absorbed the news, she hugged Mom again. If she knew this, she would¡¯ve never looked for him. That asshole. If he was her dad, then she didn¡¯t want one.


    She didn¡¯t need one. Mom was enough. But she might have one, anyway.


    ¡°Alicia, there¡¯s something else I want to talk to you about. Do you remember Jacob?¡±


    ¡°Your boyfriend?¡± She frowned.


    ¡°Alicia¡­ it¡¯s¡ªI don¡¯t know how to describe to you what it feels like to be single for forty years. But¡­ it¡¯s lonely, and I don¡¯t want to be lonely anymore. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I want to date again.¡±


    She pulled away. ¡°So Jacob is my new dad now?¡±


    ¡°No, he¡¯s not. Not unless we get married.¡±


    ¡°And will you marry him?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ll have to see in a few years. But by then, you would know him pretty well, and so will I. And if I want to, I¡¯ll talk to you about it, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay, so what is Jacob to me now?¡±


    ¡°Your mother¡¯s boyfriend. Is that okay?¡±


    She sat on it for a while. Mom having a Zack in her life¡­ (minus the almost slapping her part, presumably) That sounded amazing for her.


    ¡°Okay. You can date Jacob.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Then, the break-up hit her. Zack¡¯s not her boyfriend anymore. She¡¯s not his girlfriend anymore. No more cuddling while sketching. No more long-winded rants about art. No more instant noodles cooked together.


    He didn¡¯t even know the history of tacos.


    She wailed into Mom¡¯s chest, knowing Mom knew nothing about the cause for these tears. Mom held her as if she had just been born. ¡°Shh¡­ It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s just the two of us. Even if the entire world hates you and gossips about you behind their back¡­ You¡¯ll have me.¡±


    No matter what stood between them, she will always find her way back to Mom.


    Mom was her magnet, and she was her paperclip. And neither of them would ever defy the laws of physics again.


    ¡°Is there anything you wanna talk about? Let me know, and we can talk about it tomorrow.¡± Mom asked.


    ¡°I want a diagnosis for autism.¡±


    Alicia wept until she slept.

 Talk and Listen

    Serena  didn¡¯t know what she felt, only that the emotion possessed her. It threw her into the car and drove her to the MRT station at top speed.


    A part of her still doubted it. It held the crazy theory that the call was a prank or a scam. That voice vanished when she parked her car.


    The girl sat by the bench with two bags her size on either side, as if they were shielding her. She called out to her, to triple-check this was real.


    The girl answered. ¡°Mom!¡± This was real.


    They hugged for forever. It was just them again. Her dear Alicia is back home.


    The nights she spent reading the chapter on ¡®DNA¡¯ to Alicia for bedtime came to mind. The girl found all the long words funny, especially the pronunciation.


    Alicia¡¯s laughter was contagious, and it infected her the most.


    She inspected the girl like she inspected her car when it bumped into something, searching for a scratch whilst wishing there were none. But finding none only fuelled her paranoia that the scratch had somehow eluded her. The girl had no cuts, bruises, or wounds anywhere. She took it as a sign of her flawed vision, as opposed to a sign of the girl¡¯s safety.


    Something out there must¡¯ve hurt her baby. But where? And how badly? She asked Alicia all the questions she could conceive of, but the girl reported no injuries.


    Alicia, a girl of sixteen, had her face matured by puberty. But all Serena saw was her baby, a girl of one, with watermelon cheeks and gigantic eyes. She¡¯ll never stop seeing Alicia that way.


    They drove back home in silence. She had a million things to say, but couldn¡¯t put it into words. The only words she put together were questions. She asked them all.


    While Alicia reunited with her bedroom, she called everyone she knew with good news. Mr Lee was relieved, and expected Alicia to return to school in a few days¡¯ time. Wei Xiang insisted on coming over for dinner. Kelly put the bakery out of hiatus. Gen rejoiced. Jacob offered to come over. Cheryl¡ªAs much as she hated talking to her, the woman was still her manager.


    She prepared herself with a long sigh. ¡°Cheryl, I found Alicia. Zack wasn¡¯t there. I¡¯ll come back to work in¡ª¡±


    A man answered, ¡°Hi. Serena? This is Cheryl¡¯s husband. Cheryl is at the police station.¡±


    Contrary to her expectations, she didn¡¯t smile at this.


    But she did revel in it. ¡°Oh, what for?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s private.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Thank you.¡± She hung up.


    Wait, so who was the manager now? The company, for the first time in her life, made her day as opposed to ruining it: they offered her a promotion. More hours with more control, more responsibilities, and more pay.


    She accepted the position, and the responsibility of informing the staff about Cheryl.


    As Alicia ate her noodles with flapping hands and a bobbing head, she thought to ask further about Zack. If Cheryl was arrested, yet her husband answered the phone, it meant he was a fellow victim.


    He wasn¡¯t abusive.


    She turned to Alicia with the words ready in her mouth, but stopped herself. The girl looked like a rocket ready to take off. She got back to eating and noticed the difference it made to keep the noodles boiling for longer.


    Words are hard, and noodles are soft.


    The perfect timing of Alicia¡¯s reunion with Dr Ling¡¯s advice was eerie. Yesterday afternoon, Dr Ling asked this, ¡°What would you do if Alicia came back?¡±


    She dismissed it at first, a habit he was more than eager to address, and only contemplated it once their session was over. The conclusion she came to was this:


    Talk and listen.


    If Alicia returned, it meant she got a fresh start. And she swore not to ruin it. Hence, when Alicia did, she talked about the real story and listened to her autism diagnosis.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    First, she listened to Alicia explain autism. Seeing her quote the DSM-V was an unexpected but welcome flashback to when Wei Xiang taught her what he learnt a week before his exams as revision.


    Pieces of the puzzle fell into place as Alicia droned on. The hand flapping, her hatred towards the wet market and the MRT, the allergy to eye contact and basic manners, the lack of common sense; it wasn¡¯t on purpose. Her face grew red.


    ¡°So, that¡¯s because you¡¯re¡­ autistic?¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°Oh, okay. I kept thinking you were doing it on purpose to disobey me. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°I did not.¡±


    Next, she listened to how Alicia discovered this. The story destroyed the image of Kat in her head, and replaced it with one more charitable; a trustworthy friend who had Alicia¡¯s back. Still, it didn¡¯t excuse the rudeness, unless that was caused by her autism?


    ¡°Sounds like she¡¯s a good friend. Good¡­ spend more time with her. Just don¡¯t learn to speak like her.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I won¡¯t.¡±


    Alicia¡¯s request for a diagnosis was reasonable, if priced reasonably.


    ¡°Let me talk about it with Dr Wang first, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    Last, she listened to Alicia rant about tacos. It sounded like she was reading its encyclopaedia to her for bedtime. She covered its history, variants across different cultures, and recipes galore. She also begged her to cook one, but Serena wished to first try one.


    Dr Wang advocated for the diagnosis. Whatever the outcome was, it outweighed the latter option; letting the mystery linger. He gave the clinic his seal of approval. Though, the price¡­


    He offered to cover half of it for Alicia¡¯s sake.


    She broke the news to the employees over lunch a day later, as if announcing a death. The part-timers did their best to resist cheering. Gen was utterly speechless, while Kelly noted that her hunch she never dared to bring up had been proven right.


    The lunch table was quiet at first, taking a moment of silence for their friend, but then became livelier than ever before. Without being cut off by razor-sharp remarks, everyone spoke freely. It was as if a curse had been lifted.


    Kelly¡¯s ideas were all related to the bakery, and Gen the foodie were all ears. No one ignored those anymore. Thanks to Gen¡¯s word-of-mouth marketing, the bakery simply picked up where it left off.


    The part-timers, after learning her shared contempt for Cheryl, bonded with her over said gossip. They made countless jokes and insults over her dumb necklace, her dumb bragging, and her dumb ego. It seemed she had become their best friend. Despite this, she still enforced the rule of no phones during work.


    When Dr Ling learnt this, he was so overjoyed he disregarded therapy for a moment to bathe it in. She preferred this over therapy. But after the news had sunk in, he switched back to therapist mode.


    She assured him she would keep the promises she made in this room and strive towards being a better mother to Alicia. Not only that, she would also keep working on the bakery as it took off, and manage the pet store. First order of business; getting those stupid lights fixed.


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot.¡± He commented.


    She assured him she could juggle it all. She owed it to herself and Alicia to do so. To prove her point, she outlined her revised schedule for him: prepare Alicia for school, go to work, come home and cook dinner, have a talk with Alicia in her bedroom, complete chores, bake, and sleep. If she followed it to a T, she could score herself seven hours of sleep.


    ¡°But do you have to juggle it all alone? What about your doctor friend, or your boyfriend, or your colleagues, perhaps?¡±


    She swatted the suggestion away. They had busy schedules too. It was unfair to burden them like that. She¡¯d done more than enough of that for her lifetime.


    ¡°What makes you think it would be a burden on them to ask them for help?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯ve received more help in the past with taking care of Alicia or your daily affairs, would that have improved your relationship with Alicia?¡±


    Where was he going with this? ¡°I guess? Cause I¡¯ll have more time with her?¡±


    ¡°Do you think that could¡¯ve helped prevent Alicia from running away?¡±


    Stunned again, she nodded.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ I just already owe them so much¡­¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ they could¡¯ve spent their time doing anything else, but they wasted it on helping me. You know?¡±


    ¡°What makes helping you a waste of time?¡±


    Because she was a junkie; a lost cause. Anyone who offered help was beating a dead horse. But, another voice argued, maybe she wasn¡¯t that anymore.


    After the session, she made several calls. First, a futile plead to the company for lesser hours. Second, an idea to Kelly for hiring staff for more manpower. Third, to trouble Wei Xiang to let Alicia stay over a few days a week.


    No one (except the company) rejected her. No one (except the company) found it a burden.


    Another favour came to her the moment she hung up. She called him again¡ªawkward¡ªand asked, ¡°Do you have any book or papers on autism with you?¡±


    Yes, he had. He loaned a book to her.


    After dinner, Alicia swiped the tupperware of cookies from the fridge and waited by the couch. Serena joined her after clearing some junk mail, and the two spent the night watching a movie.


    The girl opened the container, grabbed a cookie, and took a bite. Crumbs fell all over her shirt. Serena wiped them off and offered the tupperware lid as a makeshift plate.


    ¡°How is it?¡±


    Alicia set the cookie on said lid so both hands were free to flap. ¡°I love it!¡±


    Serena felt her chest melt like warm butter. ¡°Ok. Good.¡± She ruffled her hair into a mess and took a cookie herself.


    After the movie was over and the cookies were finished, Alicia went to bed. Serena went to bed too, but not to sleep. Rather, she made herself cosy with the air refresher, some pillows, and spent the night reading the book she loaned.


    Or she would¡¯ve, if the book wasn¡¯t such a dry to read. She fell asleep after the first chapter.

 Retain

    White was all Alicia could see. Mom cooking breakfast was all Alicia could hear. Ugh, she missed Motel 91 already. Waking up with the sun, rather than before it, was a blessing she never learnt to appreciate until now.


    Muscle memory guided her through the motions: wearing her uniform, packing her bag, and sleeping on the couch until Mom finished cooking breakfast.


    She had breakfast while Mom tied her hair. When one yawned, the other followed seconds later. After she was done, they got into the car and drove off to school. It gave her ten more minutes of sleep.


    That made all the difference.


    Piano echoed throughout the canteen, coaxing her back to sleep a third time. When she woke up again, she identified the mysterious pianist to be Kat.


    She no longer felt sleepy.


    She ran to the piano bench and hugged her. Kat¡¯s reflexes struck, almost leaving her with a black eye.


    ¡°Fuck! Sorry! You scared me!¡± Kat apologised.


    ¡°I¡¯m back!¡± She cheered, flapping her hands.


    It took Kat a moment to recognise her. But once she did, she hugged her back. ¡°Oh, my god! What the fuck? How?¡±


    ¡°I returned home.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to give my mom a second chance, and we talked. So now, things are better between us.¡±


    ¡°Nice! See? I told you. Just talk, man.¡±


    She nodded. They hugged again. Alicia recapped her life at Motel 91, while Kat caught her up with class gossip: Kevin is now dating Ying Wen¡¯s friend, and that caused a rift in her circle. When her mom came to question her, everyone theorised about her disappearance. The consensus amongst the class was that she left because of O¡¯Levels stress or Vinn.


    She then recapped the talk she had with Mom, most notably her diagnosis session next week, while Kat recapped her own life: She exempted herself from FCE (Fuck the coursework), Minty is wearing the cone because of a rash, and the class invites her to play Cyber-Strikers when someone in their clique was on MC.


    She¡¯ll help get Alicia invited.


    They continued rejoicing until morning assembly.


    The teachers gave her a half-hearted welcome back to soften the blow on the homework she had accumulated, and how far she was behind from her peers.


    They encouraged her to work twice as hard to catch up. Doomsday was around the corner; literally. The teachers weren¡¯t crying wolf anymore. Ugh, she missed Motel 91 already.


    To her surprise, Faizah, William and Pav welcomed her back too. A classmate (besides Kat) not only noticed her return, but was also glad of it. She thanked them, sounding less sincere than she¡¯d hoped.


    And she used this as an opening. ¡°Would you like to play Cyber-Strikers with me and Kat?¡±


    ¡°Oh, we don¡¯t play that. Sorry.¡± They returned to their seats.


    At least she tried.


    As the boring classes droned on, Kat inquired about the only part of her story that intrigued her: Zack. It wasn¡¯t enough for her to mention their relationship. No, Kat demanded an extensive breakdown of every instance of romance which occurred.


    Kat was like a scientist conducting research on this newly discovered phenomenon.


    Alicia went along at first, reliving the butterflies in her stomach as she explained what butterflies in her stomach felt like. But when she neared the end, her enthusiasm faded.


    ¡°...and then we broke up.¡± The butterflies died.


    ¡°Oh, that sucks.¡± Kat went mute, scratching her head. ¡°Talk to Ying Wen about it? Since she also had a breakup? I don¡¯t know what to say.¡±


    She didn¡¯t either.


    They avoided this sour topic with another sour topic: homework. Kat had been collecting it for her, even doing some for her occasionally, and broke the news with no hesitation. ¡°Dude, you¡¯re fucked.¡±


    Alicia gulped.


    ¡°You have to do like five million revision papers for every single subject, and be done with your coursework.¡±


    She sighed.


    ¡°But fuck that shit. Just let them throw you in detention, and you can just skip.¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡±


    ¡°Also.¡± Kat leaned in and whispered, ¡°All the revision papers are the past year¡¯s papers, you can just find all the answers online.¡±


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    She would¡¯ve protested, claiming she needed them to revise. But with only a month left to doomsday, did it even matter? Rather than fretting over how to ace her O¡¯Levels, she fretted over how to deal with the fallout of failing them.


    Everyone would be upset, of course, but that wasn¡¯t the worst part. Students who failed O¡¯Levels had two options: either go to ITE (she heard from the grapevine it was a bad school, hence only failing students ended up there), or retain for a year and take O¡¯Levels again.


    All of this again. But that wasn¡¯t the worst part.


    The worst part was who her fellow failing students would be. The lazy. The rowdy. The delinquents; Vinn. O¡¯Levels again with Vinns as her classmates.


    Mom would be heartbroken.


    Then came Kat with the counter-argument: retaining was good. If she retained, she could reset the clock on doomsday. Kat was likely to fail O¡¯Levels too, which meant they could spend an extra year together. Plus, she could also exempt herself from FCE, and ignore her subjects that didn¡¯t fall into her L1R4 (the five out of eight subjects counted to her O¡¯Levels score) to throw off some dead weight.


    That sounded reasonable to her. But would it to Mom? Time for a second talk.


    But first, her grand reunion with Minty. He licked every corner of her face and refused to stop. Whenever she came closer, he primed himself with his back arched like a missile, ready to strike at any moment.


    When she stood up, he struck, running laps around them and jumping about. They decided to go to Alicia¡¯s, while Minty played. Kat¡¯s dad offered them a ride there and to take care of Minty. His car, in contrast to Mom¡¯s, felt like a Ferrari. Her favourite part of it was the touch-screen control panel. No clunky buttons.


    The two girls sat at the back, with Minty between them. As the car went over speed bumps and sharp turns, the dog stuck to its owner like dried glue.


    They arrived, and on the man¡¯s command, Minty crawled to the passenger¡¯s seat. Though it was unlikely, a part of her still wished Mom wasn¡¯t home.


    She wasn¡¯t. Kat flipped through the channels on the TV, complaining that there wasn¡¯t anything good on.


    Alicia took a box of cookies with no post-its on it (meaning it wasn¡¯t a customer¡¯s) and shared it with Kat. The taste made her stim in excitement.


    ¡°My Mom made these. She has her own bakery!¡± Alicia flaunted.


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you know how to cook?¡±


    ¡°I do now.¡±


    Alicia cooked the noodles, while Kat fried the eggs.


    After lunch, Kat settled on some cheesy romance movie. She watched it with one eye, whilst the other played Cyber-Strikers. Mom promised to buy her a new one on the day of her autism diagnosis. The anticipation was killing her.


    At the emotional climax of the movie, where the two leads kiss, Kat had to say, ¡°How did you get a boyfriend before, like half the people in class? That¡¯s crazy. I¡¯m jealous.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. Being a girlfriend is exhausting.¡± She shrugged.


    ¡°What? How?¡±


    ¡°You have to care about what he thinks, and force yourself to hold his hand or go on dates just to be a good girlfriend. I don¡¯t like it. I don¡¯t understand why people find it romantic.¡±


    The movie showed the two leads walking along the beach, ¡°How can you walk comfortably with sand on your bare feet? What if you step on a seashell?¡± Alicia complained.


    ¡°Hm. Interesting.¡± Kat said, ¡°Maybe you need to find a guy who likes tacos and Cyber-Strikers next time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather just discuss it with you.¡±


    Kat lost the round and passed the phone to Alicia. Alicia, who grew rusty after not playing for months, lost the round too. The lack of upgrades on Kat¡¯s Sniper only added salt to the wound.


    Kat stayed until evening, helping Alicia search and copy all the answers with minor changes to hide their blatant plagiarism.


    Mom came home, laughing and chatting with Jacob. Alicia¡¯s hair stood up as a reflex screamed at her to hide Kat away. But she restrained it, and helped Mom with her bags instead.


    Mom was surprised, yet not opposed to Kat¡¯s existence. She asked if Kat wanted to stay for dinner (Kat said yes), and cooked them egg fried rice. Alicia¡¯s hair stood back down.


    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± Kat whispered in her ear, pointing to Jacob.


    ¡°My Mom¡¯s boyfriend. She¡¯s considering dating again.¡±


    Kat blinked in confusion.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a Dad. He¡¯s an asshole.¡±


    ¡°What? You never told me that!¡±


    She could¡¯ve sworn she did, but she stood corrected.


    Jacob introduced himself to Kat, asked if Alicia remembered him, and sat on the couch. The two girls felt and fought against a pressure akin to gravity to initiate conversation with him. They sought refuge in Alicia¡¯s room.


    Dinner went well. Mom and Jacob chatted with each other, and was considerate to not include her until her plate was empty. Kat watched cute dog videos, drumming her hands as fast as the food was delicious.


    After they cleaned the plates, Mom offered Kat a ride home.


    She was stuck with Jacob for the next hour. Mom tasked them both to get along while jotting down customers¡¯ addresses on post-it notes.


    Jacob initiated conversation with the tiresome openers: How are your studies? Are you stressed for O¡¯Levels? Don¡¯t be. All the best!


    She answered with, ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Next, he played a game of twenty questions: Do you like cycling? Do you like baking? Do you like reading? Do you like movies (and if so, which ones)? Do you like music (and if so, which ones)...


    Alicia answered ¡°Yes,¡± and ¡°No,¡± accordingly


    ¡°So¡­ your mother is going to get you a new phone and laptop. That¡¯s exciting! Have you thought of which model you want yet?¡±


    ¡°I want the laptop with the rainbow lights, like your one.¡±


    ¡°A custom-built PC? Cool. What parts do you want?¡±


    She tilted her head.


    ¡°Here, let me show you.¡± He whipped out his phone and gave her a crash course on tech and custom-built PCs. The crash course opened her eyes to a whole world of unexplored knowledge. The anticipation for a new phone grew stronger.


    ¡°Can I research the PCs on your phone?¡± She asked sheepishly.


    ¡°Sure.¡± He hovered over her as she searched, chiming in with opinions and elaborations on what she found. This new world of rainbow lights and mechanical keyboards left her in awe. After the addresses were done, they took it to the couch and scrolled all night until she found her dream computer.


    It wasn¡¯t those with the rainbow lights (they were expensive and enormous), but a smaller one that could tilt its screen 360-degrees to be converted into a tablet. The price, according to Jacob, was also reasonable.


    Satisfied, Alicia searched for her dream phone next, which left her in a friendly debate with Jacob of Apple vs Android; her, the Apple defender. Mom came home and took her side until Jacob conceded.


    Jacob headed home for the night soon after, leaving Alicia eager to see him again tomorrow. Maybe having Jacob as her dad wasn¡¯t the worst thing in the entire world.


    They headed into Mom¡¯s bedroom for a second talk, where Alicia requested to be exempted from FCE and to retain. A flare of anger flashed across Mom¡¯s face, which left as soon as it came, like a shooting star.


    Mom took a deep breath before giving the counter-argument. They went back and forth until they reached a consensus: Alicia may retain, but she may not exempt herself from FCE, because it was a subject she excelled at. Mom would rather she ignored her weaker subjects instead.


    Alicia told the news to Kat tomorrow. They rejoiced with a game of Cyber-Strikers with their classmates in the computer lab. Kat got her invited.

 Autistic

    Kat, like Alicia, did not appreciate real music. But unlike the girl, Kat expressed that with the sharpness of Cheryl¡¯s tongue.


    ¡°This music sucks.¡± She said, folding her arms.


    Serena rolled her eyes and switched it off. How did her parents deal with her? Or was this product of neglect? Before the silence grew unbearable, she filled it with small talk.


    From Kat¡¯s brief answers, as if she wanted to get this conversation over with, she learnt that her mother was a pet groomer and her father a software developer. Kat herself had a pet dog and pet plants.


    She had never heard someone call a plant a pet before. Even in the village, the most passionate farmers referred to their crops as stocks.


    ¡°The village I came had stray dogs everywhere. They always came visiting my house through the back gate, and my mother always gave them our leftovers.¡±


    ¡°Aw!¡± Kat squealed.


    The ice between them broke. They spent the whole trip exchanging adorable tales of their dogs, alongside fun trivia about their species. The knowledge Kat had about these canines made her the perfect vet.


    ¡°Wow, you know a lot about animals. You should become a vet in the future.¡± She complimented.


    She drummed her fingers against her leg the way Alicia flapped her hands and said, ¡°Cool.¡±


    Kat looked out the window, ¡°Sorry for being a bitch last time.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°But what you said was shitty.¡±


    As if! Serena caught herself thinking, and calmed herself with her newfound life motto: listen. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Autism is not nonsense, asshole. It¡¯s who I am, and who Alicia is, well¡ªI¡¯m like 70% sure she¡¯s autistic, we¡¯ll see.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see. I¡¯m sorry. What makes you 70% sure? Alicia seems fine to me.¡± Even now, she still doubted all this autism stuff. Alicia, disabled? How could a mother believe that about her own child?


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s called masking. We pretend to look fine, so people like you stop bitching about us being ourselves. Also, you don¡¯t need to be brain-dead to be not fine. It just means we don¡¯t need a maid to follow us around 24/7.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Her face grew hot as she recalled the million times she told Alicia to stop flapping her hands. She moved on before the shame evolved into self-loathing.


    Upon question, Kat told the tale of her diagnosis. Catching it was the easy part, considering she spoke her first word at three years old. Handling it was the hard part. Her parents had to cycle through five asshole doctors, and go through countless fights over how to prepare her for primary school. That wasn¡¯t even starting on the panic attacks her father had whenever she disappeared to inspect an interesting plant in the soil.


    Things turned around when they got her a dog. Not even she could explain how a dog helped her talk. Her best guess was that she found giving him commands funny. Her parents noticed this, used the dog to bridge the gap between them, and the rest was history.


    ¡°Wow.¡± Serena was speechless. Whatever image she had left of Kat being the delinquent in the likes of Vinn flew out the window. Now, all she wanted was to meet the saints this girl had the fortune of calling her parents.


    After parking the car, she got to. Kat led her to the house, but didn¡¯t go in when her parents greeted them. She watered her plants first. The dog barked at her, baring teeth.


    The dogs in the village were scarier than this little fry.


    She stepped in with zero fear and shook Kat¡¯s parents¡¯ hands. They introduced themselves as Steph and Alex. Before she could introduce herself, Kat beat her to it. ¡°This is Alicia¡¯s mom. She gave me a ride back.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you.¡± She smiled. ¡°Your house looks really nice.¡± She looked around, noticing the gigantic TV and the second floor. Cushy tech jobs were no joke.


    They offered her a glass of water and chatted at the dining table. They congratulated her for getting Alicia back and thanked the girl for being a good friend. Serena did too with Kat, and she shared Alicia¡¯s upcoming autism diagnosis.


    They reacted as if she had got a promotion. ¡°I hope it goes well. We¡¯ll be happy to share what we have to help you, if you¡¯d like!¡±


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Oh no thanks¡ªWell, actually¡­ sure. I¡¯d appreciate that.¡± They exchanged numbers. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Thus, the sharing began. They exchanged stories about their daughters all night. For them, it was to exchange tips and tricks. For Serena, it was to clarify if Alicia¡¯s oddities were indeed coming from autism.


    One tip struck her: when Alicia¡¯s having a meltdown, Do Not restrain her from stimming. Her face grew hot again as she recalled herself doing just that.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know for sure,¡± they said. ¡°Either way, they¡¯re a part of who Alicia is.¡±


    She thanked them for the water, accepted a parenting book, and promised to keep in contact. As she walked out the door, she shared a quick word about her bakery. They promised to spread the word and place an order.


    Next week came in the blink of an eye, and demanded Serena do something she hadn¡¯t done since Alicia was in primary school; fetching her from school.


    The girl waved Kat and Minty goodbye and ran to the car with flapping hands. She looked forward to the new phone and laptop more than the diagnosis itself.


    The clinic was a needle in a haystack of offices. Even Dr Ling¡¯s clinic was more eye-catching than theirs with its banner. True to its name, this private clinic only had one discernable feature: its logo plastered on the glass door.


    They rang the doorbell, and the receptionist invited them in. He handed them some forms and surveys to fill out. Sitting beside them by the waiting area was a young boy driving a toy car across every surface he could reach. He rolled across the cushions without a care in the world, and when he bumped into them, his father dragged the boy away and apologised.


    An Indian woman whom everyone would picture when asked to imagine a therapist came out from a room, and lured the boy into it with a new toy car to begin his session of¡­ whatever it was they did here. If Alicia was autistic, must she come here weekly? She couldn¡¯t afford that.


    Another Indian woman, looking like the first woman¡¯s sister, brought them into a similar room with a glass of water a minute later.


    The biggest difference between this and Dr Ling¡¯s office was the size (the couches could seat five people) and the framed paintings on the wall. Alicia kept her gaze on them the entire session, as if trying to interpret them.


    The session started. For half an hour, the woman asked them questions, and they answered. At the end, she requested they return for three more sessions. One, a parent interview to understand Alicia¡¯s childhood. Two, an assessment for Alicia. Three, a diagnosis session to go through the report.


    Serena¡¯s payment covered all three of these sessions, thank god.


    What Alicia flapped hands all week for came next. The new phone and laptop. The girl dragged her to the shops, running up and down the aisles until she found her dream model.


    Nothing she or the salesman said could change the girl¡¯s mind. Alicia held them like diamonds, her eyes glowing with pure joy as she placed them on the counter. Her passionate explanation on the features of these devices outperformed every salesman in the store.


    They got back in the car and drove off for lunch before heading home. Alicia had the perfect spot; right around the corner. A taco place in its off-peak hours. Only two other customers shared the restaurant with them.


    ¡°I came here with Kat before!¡± She announced.


    The waiter handed them menus, and Serena skimmed through it. Her first reaction was a blank stare. Meh. ¡°Are tacos really that delicious? Isn¡¯t the salsa really spicy?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and no.¡±


    ¡°Ok¡­¡± Serena ordered Alicia¡¯s recommendation: grilled chicken tacos.


    Next came the complimentary nacho chips. They served it with salsa, which looked like ketchup with more texture, and guacomole, vomited up salad. She opted for salsa. Alicia did too, and prolonged the crunch of her bite as long as possible.


    Her hands and feet flailed about, imitating a fireworks show. She stuffed the rest of that chip in her face.


    Serena still had doubts, until she took a bite. Her eyes shot wide. Alicia wasn¡¯t exaggerating. The spice, in the perfect sweet spot. The crisp, as crispy as prawn crackers. Oh, my god. It sent her leaning back in her chair.


    ¡°Wow! This tastes amazing! How did you find this place?¡±


    ¡°I did a lot of research to find it!¡±


    Serena gave a thumbs up.


    The tacos came next, holding the same taste alongside the umami of chicken and sourness of lime. Perfection. They wolfed down their food, then ordered extra, then wolfed that down, then ordered extra again¡­


    Serena soon lost track of how much they spent. It came to bite her when she got the bill. It hurt, but it was worth it. They rubbed their stomachs like pregnant women, feeling a phantom weight kicking at their intestines.


    With a slight waddle, they got back to their car and drove back home.


    ¡°Can I learn to cook tacos? Pleeease¡­¡± Alicia begged.


    Serena chuckled, ¡°I have to learn it first, before I can teach you.¡±


    ¡°We can learn it together!¡±


    ¡°Okay, sure.¡±


    ¡°And after that, we will eat tacos for dinner forever!¡±


    ¡°What about wonton noodles?¡±


    ¡°Forever!¡± Alicia repeated in mock outrage.


    ¡°Okay, okay¡­ Forever.¡±


    Once she reached home, the food coma hit Serena faster than the awe she felt from Alicia¡¯s new devices. For the first time she could remember, she woke up feeling well-rested.


    The diagnosis session came a month later, and the woman broke the news over a glass of water: Alicia is autistic.