Maybe This Time

"Sally", the teacher called. I held my breath as I walked up to the raised platform where the teacher was standing, holding my maths yearly exam out in front of her. I could feel the eyes on the back of my head, silently watching, expectant and waiting. My heart was racing and I could hear the blood pulsing inside my head, pounding like a bass drum. I shakily and sat down.

I lifted the top right corner of my exam paper. 48 out of 80, 60%. My heart sank. Another borderline pass mark, another expected lecture from my overly expectant mother and possibly a harsh spanking from my short tempered father. The sounds of the classroom dimmed and the distinctive chatters of the model students faded into murmurs. I was numb. All I could think of was what was coming that afternoon: no supportive encouragements, no gentle words, nothing of that kind. Instead, I would get angry disapprovals, intimidating insults and relentless pain. Sometimes I wondered what life would be like if I had been born into a wealthy, caring family. Instead of the endless chores, spine-chilling winters and scorching summers and an empty stomach that never seems to stop protesting, would I possible have the luxuries of an air conditioned house, a fridge full of food and maids at my disposal?

The grotesque sounds of the teacher's manicured nails scratching the blackboard brought me back to reality. The intensity of the heat rose and the day wore on, pushing the temperature to just under 40 degrees, making my head feel feverish. Flies buzzed around the incandescent light bulbs.

***********

"Do you know that I work my ass off paying for your education? Is this how you repay me? With filthy results that barely pass?" I sat on a stool, focusing on the bricks of the wall in attempts to avoid eye contact. I glanced up.

"I do well in Science, dad. I often top the class. I’m just not good at maths; I don't understand numbers. My heart lies in Science; I love learning about life, the chemicals that are essential to our lives and our planet. Numbers don't make sense to me. Trust me, I really do try but I…." His hand was raised in the air, his face purple with rage. I gasped, closing my eyes, anticipating the impact of the smack.

***********

My head pulsed. My ears still rang from the impact of the blow. Feeling the cold concrete floor against my cheek, I opened my eyes, seeing my father's shoes slip out of reach of my peripheral vision. I winced as I tried to get up, a dull ache expanding inside my head. Forcing myself to ignore the pain, I urged my limbs to drag me up as a wave of dizziness hit me, slightly toppling my judgement.

I faced myself in the cracked mirror that hung on the beige wall with flakes of paint peeling off, alongside Chinese paper cuttings. I was definitely not the prettiest girl around. I examined my reflection and mentally insulted my appearance: blank eyes framed by lengthy eyelashes, a button nose, a small mouth curved in an annoyed fashion, hair pulled back in a quick messy bun. I couldn't take it anymore. Tears rolls freely down my cheeks and in a rush of fury, I stormed out of the house, slamming the door as hard as I could behind me.

"I hate you all!!!" I screamed before running out the rusted gates that bordered our run-down property. Warm tears blinded my vision. I didn't care where I was going, I just had to get away from them. Hatred filled my heart as I ran on, pushing myself to run faster, tiring my muscles and not allowing them to stop; I wanted to feel the pain.

Despite it being dusk, the afternoon heat still hung in the air. I tried to breathe, taking in lung-fulls of air but I couldn't, not with the smog that had infiltrated the skies. Slowing my pace, I walked on, taking in the polluted streets of Beijing. I collapsed under a towering willow by the river. Leaning against the thick trunk, I gazed up at the night sky, wishing I was anywhere but here, wishing I was born into another family, wishing I could live my dream of becoming a scientist, not the predetermined fate of a lawyer. I streak of light marked the black canvas and I made a wish. Maybe this time, it will really come true.