Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Mr. Tan spends the next few minutes going through our project guidelines. At the end of each term, the school holds a project exhibition. Only the top projects are picked from each class and shown proudly inside the hall for parents and other students to admire. Each Purity group has to come up with a new game, including a concept, a cover, and a business plan. Despite myself, I’m really impressed by this. At Mingyang, the only projects we were ever assigned were your traditional science or history ones, but as Mr. Tan explains, the global gaming industry is, in fact, bigger than the movie industry, and it’s still not done expanding, so it makes sense for us to tackle this as a topic.

Well, I’m not complaining. By the time Mr. Tan is done with his talk and we break off into our respective groups, I’m raring to go. Seriously, I couldn’t come up with a better topic if I tried. I’m practically rubbing my palms with glee as Jonas and Peishan turn their chairs around so we’re facing one another.

“So,” Jonas says, grinning, “how awesome is this?”

Liam nods. “I think it’s the first time I’m actually excited about my term project.”

Only Peishan looks unimpressed. “I don’t really play games.”

I’m about to say something when Jonas says, “That’s fine. I’m a serious gamer. I’ve got this down pat. You guys just have to follow my lead.”

I stare at him. “Okaaay.”

Maybe that came out slightly more caustic than I expected, because a small frown crosses Jonas’s face for a second. Then he clears his throat and takes out an iPad from his bag. Right, I’d forgotten that Xingfa is so fancy that every student is lent a school-sanctioned iPad. The iPads have been programmed so that we’re unable to download any apps aside from the school-regulated ones. Jonas places his iPad on the table with an air of importance, opens up a drawing program, and begins sketching. I look at Peishan and Liam out of the corner of my eyes, waiting for either one to say something, but they both seem perfectly happy letting Jonas run the show, so I bite my lower lip and make myself stay silent as Jonas draws a quick sketch.

“So I’m thinking an FPS, right? That’s first-person shooter,” he adds in a tone so patronizing that my teeth clack together loudly.

“I knew that,” I snap.

Jonas raises an eyebrow in obvious disbelief, then shrugs and continues sketching. Liam meets my eye again, and this time, his thick brows knit together. Gah, well, I’m sorry some of us aren’t just going to stay silent while Jonas patronizes us.

After a painfully quiet minute, Jonas flips the iPad around and proudly shows us his sketch of the cover concept. “Ta-da!”

Oh god. It’s the most stereotypical sketch that has ever existed: a skinny woman standing with her back super arched, so that her super-round butt is more pronounced, looking over her shoulder at us so we’re treated to a view of her duck lips and the curve of a huge boob peeking out beyond one arm. I mean…need I say more? I can’t help the small scoff that escapes my mouth.

Jonas’s gaze snaps toward me. “You don’t look impressed, new kid.” There’s a challenging note in his voice, like he’s both amused and annoyed.

“Well…” I struggle to come up with the most diplomatic words. “Ah, your drawing skills are like, amazing, obviously. But the sketch itself…I think it’s kind of overdone? Plus, haven’t you heard about the whole Overwatch controversy with Tracer’s art design? Blizzard had to remove a photo of her doing this exact pose, because fans complained that it was overly sexualized and reduced her to nothing more than a sex symbol. And, let’s face it, it’s just a really lazy pose. It’s the most overused, obvious pose you can get for female characters.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I wish I could swallow them back. I didn’t mean to give a whole speech about it, but wow, I guess I had Feelings about the over-the-shoulder pose. But it’s not just that. It’s also the way that Jonas has taken the helm so quickly, dismissing the rest of us as mere peons, that’s rubbed me the wrong way.

For a moment, they all just stare at me. Then Jonas snorts and says, “Wow, okay, tell us how you really feel.”

It’s the smirk that does it. That and the snort. And what he said. It’s just so much. “Yeah, I will, actually,” I say. “And given that it’s supposed to be a group effort, you could, you know, consider working as a team rather than bossing us around?”

Jonas’s mouth drops open in mock surprise. “I would never think of bossing anyone around. I’m just taking the helm because I’m a gamer, so I have the most experience in this field.”

“I’m a gamer too,” I say, and it’s a testament to my patience that I don’t add, “asshole.”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “Candy Crush doesn’t count as a real game.”

I swear I’m this close to leaping across the table and throttling his little neck, but just then, I notice that Liam is glaring at me. When I meet his eye, he gives a small shake of his head. What is he, Jonas’s stooge? But then I see that Peishan is also glaring at me, and my anger crumbles into guilt. I’d assumed that since she’s a girl, she would also object to the art. I didn’t mean to start a fight with a group mate on what seems like a really important term project, and on my very first day at school, no less. Crap. I take a deep breath and lean back in my seat.

“Liam here used to game, but not anymore,” Jonas says, “and Peishan’s too busy studying, so I think it’s for the best if I’m team leader. Everyone agreed?”

No! my mind screams. But neither Peishan nor Liam says anything, and it hits me that maybe I’m the one being unreasonable. Maybe I’m the one being disruptive and they’re all annoyed at me, not Jonas. It’s an ugly feeling, twisting deep down in my guts. The bell rings then, and Mr. Tan tells everyone to return to their seats and prep for the next class.

We get a five-minute break between each class, so as soon as Mr. Tan leaves the classroom, I don’t spare anyone a single glance before leaping out from behind my desk and practically sprinting out. I can feel eyes skittering across my back like spiders. Outside the class, I brisk-walk to the bathroom, lock myself into the farthest cubicle, and sag against the wall with a bone-deep sigh. I rest my forehead against the cool tiled wall. My inner Mami screeches at me about how unhygienic doing that is, but I don’t have the strength to lift my head from the wall.

How in the world did I manage to tank my first-ever class so badly? I don’t get it. Where did I go wrong? I close my eyes and immediately, the excruciating scene replays in my mind. My voice echoes through my head.

It’s the most overused, obvious pose you can get for female characters. God, could I sound more pretentious? Why did I say that? Why couldn’t I have just said it in a more mature, palatable way, like “I think you could definitely come up with a better pose.” Or, better yet, why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut and follow Jonas’s lead? As Mr. Tan pointed out, Jonas killed it last term with his project, so he obviously knows what he’s doing. Why do I always have to act like I know better?

But even as I think that, a not-so-small part of me growls: Because I do. In this instance, I know I was in the right. I’m a gamer too, I keep up with gaming news, I know that the gaming industry needs to be more inclusive and start listening to everyone, not just hetero, cis male gamers.

And Jonas…

Ugh, he caught me so off guard. How the hell did things go south so quickly? I mean, right before the class, we were flirting with each other! He told me I was pretty, and I thought he was cute, and it was all exciting and fun, and then—what the hell happened? I should’ve backed off. No! I shouldn’t have backed off. At Mingyang, I wasn’t even considered one of the more outspoken pupils, because we were always encouraged to speak our minds.

Okay, so this cinches the deal. I can’t carry on at Xingfa. I’m gonna go home and tell Mami that I crashed and burned in the most horrific way possible and that she has to re-enroll me in Mingyang right away. I take a deep breath, then recall that the last thing I want to be doing is to take a deep inhale in a public restroom. Gah. Of course, as soon as I think about telling Mami to take me out of Xingfa because I made a fool of myself on not just my first day but my first class, I can already imagine her reaction.

Aduh, Kiki, I didn’t raise you to be a quitter. Or a loser. You were born to be a queen bee, my darling girl.

Then I’d be like: But Mami, these kids are so different. They’re not the kind of people I’m used to. They just want me to keep my head down and follow the rules.

Then Mami would be like: Well, there are two ways this could go. One, you could prove them wrong and show them that speaking up for your beliefs is important. Or two, they teach you some manners. Either way, it’s a win-win.

And I’d be like: For you, maybe. Grumble, grumble.

Damn it, even Imagination Kiki can’t win against Imagination Mami.

A bell rings, probably to signify the start of second period. I take another deep breath, remember belatedly again where I am, and lift my chin. I come out of the cubicle, smiling politely at a couple of girls who are washing their hands. They glance at me with some interest but don’t say anything before leaving.

That’s okay. I’m going to go out there and freaking slay. I check my reflection and nod to myself. That first class was just an anomaly. Now that I have a feel for the culture here and who to avoid (i.e., Jonas), the rest of the day will be fine. I’ll just keep my head down, stay away from Jonas, and maybe try to feel out which of the girls in my class are more approachable.

My newfound confidence is short lived. As soon as I get into class, I know I’ve made a huge error, because the classroom is deathly silent. The teacher is already there, and she stops talking mid-sentence when I step inside, which of course means that every student immediately turns to look at me. A few pairs of eyes roll. I can practically read their minds. Ugh, the new girl can’t even get it together to be on time.

The teacher, a rake-thin woman in her late thirties wearing a pencil skirt, gives me a cold glance. “Glad you could join us,” she says in a clipped voice. She glances at the clock. “Two minutes late. Go to your seat.” She turns to address the rest of the class. “Some of you had me in precalculus last year, but for those of you who don’t know, the rule is, if you’re more than three minutes late, you can’t attend my class. You’ll have to stand outside the whole period. I won’t have anyone disrespecting my time.”

Silence. I swear my seat is leagues away from me. Eyes follow me as I scamper toward it like a hunted hamster. Then I jump when the teacher suddenly barks, “Understand?”

As one, the class choruses, “Yes, Ms. Tian.”

I finally reach my seat and scramble into it. My heart may as well be a tennis ball caught in my throat. I clench my hands on my lap and find them so clammy that my fingers keep slipping. None of the teachers at Mingyang ever shouts. Is this what Mami was referring to when she waxed on and on about Asian discipline? I’ve seen the funny TikToks and all the memes about it. Some of my cousins have been kept in check with the dreaded feather duster or sandal, but Mami and Papi were more into ordering me to the “Thinking corner” or, at worst, grounding me, so I’ve always thought the memes were exaggerated. Having a teacher shout at an entire class like this is a whole different experience.

Ms. Tian gives a short nod and turns back to the front of the classroom. She gestures to the screen, on which are the words Calculus with Ms. Marie Tian. “As I was saying, calculus is very different from precalculus. Compared to precalc, this class is a lot harder. You’re going to need to pay full attention. Expect ten hours’ worth of homework every week.”

No one groans at this, which kind of blows my mind. At Mingyang, we would all throw our heads back and give the most dramatic groan whenever any teacher announced homework, though of course we’d do it. We just liked our teachers to know that they were ruining our lives. But none of my Xingfa classmates even sighs or shows any signs of annoyance. In fact, most of them are writing down everything Ms. Tian is saying. Maybe I should do the same?

“There will be a test every two weeks. If you fail more than two in a row, you will be taken out of this class and put in…” Ms. Tian waves her hand flippantly at the corridor. “Wisdom, or Charity,” she says with open derision.

Maybe I’m missing something. Why is she being so horrible about those two classes?

Sensing my confusion, Jonas whispers, “Those two are the bottom-tier classes. That’s where all the dumb kids go.”

I must have looked horrified, because he smirks and adds sarcastically, “But I’m sure you belong with us smart kids.”

Seriously? The classes are tiered? I can’t believe they do that, and also, which tier is my class in and how do I find out? Also, kind of ironic that the class named Wisdom is for “the dumb kids,” my mind titters at me nervously.

“Jonas Arifin!” Ms. Tian snaps, glaring at us. “Are we going to have a problem with you talking in class?”

Jonas quickly shakes his head. “No, Teacher. Sorry, Teacher,” he says without any trace of mockery.

Wow. I’ve never seen a student so quickly cowed before. Not to say that we were ever disrespectful at Mingyang, but our teachers were the kind that would be, like, “Stop it, you animals,” in a long-suffering way instead of actually snapping at us.

“And you?” Ms. Tian turns her terrifying attention to me.

“Uh.” I have no idea what to say. “No?”

“No, what?” Her voice is now dangerously low.

“No, Teacher,” Liam whispers under his breath.

Seriously? “No, Teacher,” I say.

She narrows her eyes at me for another second before nodding and turning back to the rest of the class. Oookay. I feel like I’m in some sort of high school boot camp. I sneak a glance at Liam, wondering if I should thank him, but he’s staring with rapt attention at the board. I should probably follow his lead.

For the rest of the class, I keep my head firmly down and my attention fully on taking in everything Ms. Tian says. Her class sounds like a real ass kicker, and by the time the period ends, we have an unbelievable amount of homework. Brutal, considering it’s the first day of the semester.

Fortunately, after our second class, it’s time for recess. Or maybe I should say unfortunately, because after the disaster that was my first two classes, I’m left with very little confidence. Me, the Fabulous and Marvelous Kiki Siregar, feeling unsure? Yep. And all it took was two classes at Xingfa.

Still, I rally. I’m sure this school isn’t as bad as my morning made it seem. I mean, there are people like Eleanor Roosevelt and George Clooney enrolled here, so how bad can it be? Eleanor Roosevelt is, as previously mentioned, a future conqueror of the world. Meanwhile, her brother is so incredibly nice. The way he treats and looks up to Sharlot would melt even the coldest heart. Of course, unfortunately, George is spending this semester in California on a study abroad program. He’s told everyone that it’s to further his studies in business management, but we all know it’s because he wants to be close to Sharlot.

I glance around the classroom as everybody stands, some of the students stretching. People start streaming out in pairs or bigger groups and everybody’s chatting and I feel so impossibly alone. Liam turns to me and looks like he’s about to say something, but Jonas leans back in his chair and says, “Well, you made quite the statement.” He’s still wearing that smirk, and I can’t decide if this is him trying to be friendly or just him being a jerk.

I have no idea how to respond to that, so I just shrug.

Liam gets up from his seat and says, “Take it easy,” as he leaves, and I have no idea if he was saying it to Jonas or to me.

Jonas gives me a once-over. “You have a really pretty smile. You should do it more often.”

“Excuse me?” I blurt out. Seriously? Did he really just tell me to smile?

“Okaaay. Don’t freak out, I was just trying to be nice.” He widens his eyes and looks over his shoulders like he’s expecting an audience. And, to my horror, there are a couple of guys who I’ve just now realized are waiting for Jonas. They both smirk and shake their heads. “Jesus,” Jonas mutters, shaking his head.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” he says to his friends, cocking his head toward the door, and the two guys follow him out of the classroom.

What just happened? I don’t get it. I thought it’s pretty much universally accepted that telling a girl to smile more is an asshole move. I’m still standing there, stunned, when Peishan, on her way toward the back door, leans close to me and mutters, “The fish rots from the head.”

“Sorry?”

She pauses, sighing like she’s annoyed that she has to explain something so obvious to me. “It’s a saying. If the head’s rotten, the rest of the body will follow suit. And Jonas is our head. He’s the class monitor, star tennis player, richest kid here, yada yada.”

“Uh. Right.” This is a lot of information, and I’m struggling to remember everything. I look at Peishan with hope. “Um, but you’re not…like, part of the Jonas fan club?”

She shrugs and adjusts her glasses. “I guess you could say I’m not part of the fish’s body.” She frowns. “Okay, the fish thing is a bad analogy, but let me stay with it. So, Jonas is the head and most of the other kids here are the body, and the body follows the head. I’m…” She waves her hands, trying to think of the right word.

“The sea turtle?” I suggest.

“Nah, that’s too cool for what I am. I’m more like the seaweed. Just hanging out in the background.”

I laugh, feeling much better than I have all morning. “That doesn’t sound so bad. I could be seaweed too.”

Instantly, Peishan’s eyebrows knit together. “No. You’re done for. You’re not even seaweed. You pissed Jonas off. I mean, that whole thing during the project discussion…” She sighs. “Yes, you’re right, that pose is overdone and clichéd, but you don’t just say that stuff to Jonas. You’re krill.”

“Krill?”

“Those little shrimp that fish eat.”

“I know what krill is. I just—”

She doesn’t wait for me to finish talking. She says, “Cool. Okay, see ya.” And with that, she walks off, leaving me alone in the classroom.

Outside, there are the distant, familiar sounds of students filing out of their classrooms, chatting and laughing easily. In here, there’s just me and my own heartbeat, thumping a manic, stressed-out rhythm in my ears. I make myself take a deep breath to slow down my rushing thoughts. Peishan must’ve been exaggerating. Yeah. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to me. I’m not krill. I’m not even seaweed! Back at Mingyang, I was, if not the fish’s head, then damn near to the head. I was at the very least the fish’s neck. Do fish have necks? Okay, the gills. I was definitely at least the gills.

This fish analogy sucks.

Okay, focus. So the morning hasn’t gone as well as I’d hoped. But not everything is lost. I can still come back from my bumpy start. I just need a strategy. A battle plan. Let’s see, I’ve tried going head-to-head with Jonas, which was apparently a really bad idea. Okay, from now on, I am ignoring Jonas. Nothing he says is going to get to me. Good plan.

With that, I stride out of the classroom and follow the last of the students streaming toward the cafeteria. Xingfa’s cafeteria is huge, about three times the size of Mingyang’s. The noise is overwhelming. Due to the school’s immense student population, recess time is staggered into three groups, but still, there are over a thousand pupils in the cafeteria, and all of them seem to be talking and shouting and laughing. There are over twenty different food stalls, each one boasting healthy, organic foods. I walk past the stalls, my mouth watering at the various foods on offer. There’s a nasi and mee goreng stall (fried rice and fried noodles), a nasi uduk stall (coconut rice), a Hokkien mee stall, and even a grilled cheese stall. It’s the first difference from Mingyang that I actually appreciate. At Mingyang, there’s just one serving station, and it rotates between hot dogs, pizza, and frozen nuggets.

I join the line at the soto ayam stall (Indonesian chicken soup). I’m scanning the menu when I hear the familiar sound of Jonas’s voice. Crap. I was so distracted by the food stalls that I completely forgot to look out for Jonas. But seriously, what are the odds that we’d be near each other in this vast food hall? Why, Universe? Why are you doing this to me? I manage to stop myself from turning toward the sound of his voice and, instead, look down at my phone and pray to the universe that he won’t notice I’m there. A subtle glance tells me that he’s in the grilled cheese line to my right. I turn to my left, hiding my face, but my ears are pricked, following his voice the same way that a rabbit listens for the sound of its predators.

“—for tonight?” one of his friends asks.

“Of course, bro,” Jonas says. “We’re going to dominate the Silmerrov Gulch! I bought a new skin—that limited-edition Goldwater Dragon one.”

It feels as though my skin has gotten too tight for my body. Because Silmerrov Gulch is one of the battle arenas in Warfront Heroes. Ugh, Jonas plays WH too.

“I even paid to change my handle so it goes with the new skin. I’m now—”

I don’t quite catch what his handle is.

“Cool,” Jonas’s friend says. “Yeah, I’ll add your new character to my Friends list. Anyway, you wouldn’t believe what happened today. Miss Teen Indonesia is the new girl in our class. Crazy hot.”

Jonas says, “Dude, what? Seriously? Which one is she?” There’s a pause as—I assume—he and his buddies spy on some girl. There’s a low whistle, then he says, “Yeah, I’d hit that.” Gross. The other guys laugh in agreement. “Man, how is this fair? Your class gets Miss Teen Indonesia and mine gets the crazy feminazi from hell. Bro, you should’ve seen this girl when we were talking about our term project, she was, like, ‘Ew, like, this is so gross, you guys.’ ”

Something inside me breaks, and before I can stop myself, I turn around and march toward Jonas. He’s only a few steps away from me, and all of a sudden, I find myself standing face-to-face with him. His face is frozen in a half-laugh, his eyes wide with surprise, and I don’t think I’ve hated a guy quite as much as I do him in this moment. Next to him, two guys with popped collars and manicured faces—trimmed eyebrows, ultra-moisturized skin—are snickering and elbowing each other.

“Shit,” one of them whispers, barely containing his laughter.

I ignore them all and stab a finger in front of Jonas’s stupid face. “For the record, you’re a misogynistic asshat and a little squealer who only dares to talk shit behind people’s backs. Next time you want to call me names, say it to my face.”

“Oooh,” one of his friends says, obviously delighted by this.

I shoot his friends a withering glare, and they both snap their mouths shut, looking cowed. I spin around and stalk off. Or try to, anyway. My legs are so trembly that walking is a real effort. I focus all my energy on moving my feet. Right foot, left foot, right foot. Keep going.

Behind me, I hear Jonas say, “See? What did I tell you? Crazy.”

More laughter. The students around me are either quietly staring or whispering behind their hands. Oh god, what have I done? Why did I do that? Krill can’t eat fish!

But you’re not krill,a small voice at the back of my mind pipes up.

No, you were a big fish in a small pond and now you’re suddenly in the ocean. You might as well be krill, and krill stay the hell away from the big fish. Don’t go right up to its mouth and announce their presence.

My breath releases in a shudder. This isn’t good. But I couldn’t just stand by as he called me a “crazy feminazi” to his friends. Except I’ve probably just proven him right. God, I really thought that my first day at school would’ve gone way better than this.

I end up spending the rest of recess in the bathroom, doing deep-breathing exercises in the cleanest cubicle I can find. I peel myself away from the bathroom only when the next bell rings. When I get to my seat, Liam leans over and says, “Hey, so I think you should—”

But the teacher strides in then, and it’s just as well, because I’ve had enough about what I should or shouldn’t be doing. I turn away from Liam pointedly and keep my gaze on my books.

The rest of the day isn’t much better, but at least I manage not to make any more of a spectacle of myself. I keep my head down and focus on writing everything my teachers say in my notebook. Two more classes, and finally, the day comes to an end. I stuff everything into my bag and keep my eyes down as I trudge out along with everyone else. Am I imagining it or are people glancing at me and then looking away as soon as our eyes meet? Whatever. I look down at my hands and realize I’m white-knuckling the shoulder strap. I force them to release their grip. I’m okay. I survived my first day. I’ll be fine.