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Preview from chapter one
two
minutes
late
7:22 AM.
Thursday.
I wake to a text from Vic.
Good morning, it reads.
Good morning yourself, I reply. Ready?
Let's do this.
I smile a small smile. Let's have ourselves a good day, yeah?
Of course, she replies.
7:38 AM.
Breakfast is a lonely thing.
One piece of yesterday's bread roll, a cup of yoghurt (mandated by mother), a glass of orange juice.
I take my time eating; school won't start for an hour. Checking my phone reveals far too many social apps, needless ones for nothing but mindless entertainment. As if they're anything but a lonely, lifeless distraction.
No time like now to improve, I think to myself
With a long press of each fluorescent icon, my phone wipes itself of that facet of my online presence.
And I feel nothing.
The yoghurt I put back in the fridge, untouched.
7:52 AM.
I put enough effort into my appearance today.
More than enough, probably.
Even the boys at school will notice the makeup, at least a little bit.
Blonde hair that should be redyed at some point, lips that aren't visibly chapped anymore, a slightly oversized sweater.
It's fine. I shouldn't care so much. But I do.
7:56 AM.
The schoolbooks, each marked with my name in little square labels, go into my bag in a neat stack.
It's not like we ever use them, but it's good practice for the future, a future in which I do actually graduate and go to university.
Who knows? Maybe it'll happen. But at the current state of my grades, it's about a fifty-fifty chance.
I wish I was smart, like every other Asian I know.
7:59 AM.
I stand at the front door of the apartment, rocking slowly back and forth on the balls of my feet.
The place is empty; with Mother and Father at work like every morning, the only sound is of the air-conditioning unit.
I wait for the clock to strike eight, to allow myself to leave.
It's an odd tradition, maybe. But I'm an odd person.
I slip on my shoes and pull the door open as my watch ticks into the eighth hour. Or is it the ninth?
It's not something that matters.
8:10 AM.
Vic's white Honda pulls to the street curb, two minutes later than usual.
"Hi," she says shortly, as I close the passenger door behind me.