the first bit of Y9
I tilted my head quizzically, a bemused smile playing on my lips. There’s a potted plant in the turtle pond! It’s one of those Ancient Greek looking pots that I could hide inside of, should the temptation ever arise (When’s the next summative again?). The serene pot looked oddly at home in the water, a crowd of turtles batting playfully at the porcelain.
I watched intently as one little turtle tried to climb onto the sand. With a Herculean effort, he pushed himself out of the water, hovering tentatively between land and water for a moment (This must be what it feels like to fly!), before tumbling backwards with a splash.
I laughed as he glanced at me, the shine of the water matching the spark in his eye.
the in between bits
I never thought I would cry because someone smiled.
I held the MTR handrail tightly, wandering eyes looking for a seat. Instead, I found myself staring at a little boy in a pram. Anyone else at school would have fidgeted and averted their eyes, but he looked right back. Waving his toy at me, he giggled, then laughed at his own squeaky cackle till he was breathless with mirth. A snort of laughter escaped me and his eyes sparkled, as if this was his intention the entire time. I wish I had some paper with me; I would have made a little crane for him to keep.
When they got off, he didn’t see me wave. Just before the doors closed, I caught his eye and he gave me a wave, a frantic wave, furrowing his brow in an expression at odds with his age. The doors shut him out and the indifferent train sped away.
I had to sit down. One blink, and the world went blurry, even though I’ve got my glasses on. It’s meant to be a happy day. Ocean park, end of Y9. Roller coasters, popcor—I sniffed. This is ridiculous, stop crying, why are you crying, ju-just stop. I bit my lip. The train seems darker, and I notice that I’m the only kid, no, teen, here.
I’m scared for him. One day, he’ll lose the innocent shine in his eyes, like the half faded reflection of the girl in the window looking back at me. I wish-I wish the train would stop.
The train kept on going.
the last bit of Y9
I don’t like spending the last day of school alone, but I still do, more out of habit than anything else. Before school, I sat on the table under the Banyan Tree, an unopened book waiting on my lap.
Finally, I got up, letting the book fall to the floor. There’s a brooding dramatism to that image, no? I laughed, wondering where I got that from. Walking around the Banyan Tree, I gathered the colorful leaves that peppered the floor, ripping them up into confetti. I love this smell, so much better than the sickly sweet cloud that chokes the changing rooms. This is simple and nice, but no one bothers to enjoy it.
Arranging them by color, I made a gradient strip of leaves on the table from spring green to autumn red. Shifting a leaf here, moving a leaf there, I found a little dragon in its place. A smile crept onto my face as I tried to fix the uneven legs and too long body unsuccessfully. Whatever, I love it like this.
After a moment, I got some more leaves, and spelt out a name for it: JEFF.
Jeff the Dragon!
I giggled a little, and I felt like a kid again, content with the most trivial joys. Jeff, Jefffff, Jeff the Dragon, it sounds so goofy.
When I got back at break, Jeff the Dragon was already disassembled by the wind. Despite myself, I felt a little twinge of disappointment. I rebuilt Jeff, but he wouldn’t look the same. To be sure, it would be a little disconcerting if he did, after being shifted by the wind.
To be sure, it would be a little disconcerting if we stayed the same, after being altered by time.
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