I think all you LURKERS who don't comment (or tag on words-of-the-damned.bs) should do so. I shifted to LJ not because of the anti-spam comments function but because it's more user-friendly. So do comment/tag, okay?
Comment Responses:
@Shaun: I didn't want a direct attack on the main character in the first part-chapter. That's why the delivery boy wasn't evil. It isn't even 1 chapter yet 0.o I'm not publishing this in chapter format. Instead, it will be more or less like a serialised manga where parts are posted and then compiled and edited into a collection of pieces.
Start:
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And with that, she put down the phone.
Liz Chu had been my best friend since primary school. We'd been in the same class since primary 3. I still remember that incident that brought us closer together.
It happened when we were in Primary 6. I was always the odd one out. Those questions which the teachers asked always seemed to be really easy. I would always be the one to spot errors and correct mistakes in my classmates' work. Were they ever grateful? No.
I was like a superhero. Always there to save the day, but subject to negative remarks otherwise. They were glad to get those marks which by right belonged to me during the tests, because I put in the effort to help them revise. Even at Primary 3, three years earlier, when others were concentrating on playing their precious "Npets" or "Magescape" games, I was busy doing work. Strange thing was, no matter how much I read, I never had to wear glasses. Not even when I used to read while jumping on the trampoline, when Mom bought one during her period of exercise fanaticism.
It happened sometime that year. There was this guy I always used to help with English. He was 14, a China boy sent here to study. He never liked me, but always accepted my help in English. Then, one day, he asked me to help him after lunch. I didn't see this request as weird, because most people asked me for help after school. What I forgot was that it was never him who asked me this. He always used to ask for help during recess, since he couldn't finish his homework at home. He said he was pretty embarrassed about a piece of work he'd been having trouble with, and he didn't bother to elaborate. And I didn't ask.
After lunch, he and I were in the library. All of a sudden, everybody seemed to get up and leave. I looked around and they were all single-mindedly heading for the door. I thought it strange that they would line up in queues and leave in an orderly manner. Then, I looked at the boy.
He seemed to be smiling a little. I asked him if he thought anything was strange, and he replied in Chinese, "No, perfectly fine." He showed me the piece of work he said he was embarrassed about. He had every right to be embarrassed about not being able to do it. I went through something almost the same with him a few days ago. Jeez. I had just set to work correcting his mistakes when he began to smile.
I didn't think there was anything wrong. Then his smile widened, and he laughed. I asked him what was wrong, and he replied in Chinese, "No, nothing's wrong." He pointed to a question he said he didn't know, and when I looked up his face was inches from mine. He was leering like a wolf. A coloured wolf.
"EEEEEEEE!"
That wasn't me. Liz stood just outside the library door. The shriek startled the boy. He stared fiercely at her. I think it was my imagination, but I can remember this vividly. I thought, for a second, he shimmered. I saw him lunge at Liz, and remember thinking that I should go and help Liz. Then, I blacked out.
Liz told me what happened. The boy seemed possessed, like something had taken over his mind. He jumped at Liz with his arms outstretched, and he looked like he wanted to strip her. He knocked her to the ground and was just beginning to take off her top when something happened. He just stopped like that, and didn't move. He got up and started humming "Breaking The Habit" by Linkin Park. At that time I used to like to sing that song, but after hearing what happened, I have never sung the song again. He dropped to the floor and started doing pushups until his face turned red, all the time humming, and he didn't stop until he collapsed. And then he was still humming breathlessly. It was only when I woke up that he stopped.
Liz and I were both traumatised by this. It was unimaginable to us at that time that someone from our school would try to eat us (which is what we agreed would have happened back then, it just seemed like that). Our school counsellor eventually did manage to convince us that it was safe to go to class again, that we wouldn't be eaten. The two of us, both near-victims of being eaten, stuck together closely after that, so that we'd never be alone. Since that incident, the two of us have always been terrified of what would happened if we were separated forever. I felt it, and I knew she felt it.
After our PSLE was over, we (secretly of course) did something I had only heard about in books about English schoolboys: We each cut our palms with a little knife, clasped hands, and swore that we would never be apart, lest something evil this way came. We were, in essence, sisters.
And now we were going to be pulled apart by fate. Somehow, deep in my heart, I knew I had to turn down the invitation. If my best friend and god-sister couldn't go to Higher Calling, I wouldn't either. It was a matter of friendship.
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Mom and I had a good, long talk. About this whole affair. Mom brought up the fact that the Higher Calling Institute was a respected, successful college which would guarantee my success. I remember hearing about the 5Cs: Cash, Car, Condo, Credit Card and Country Club. Those things, I learned in Literature. Then Mom proceeded to tell me about her earlier life. As a dancer in a club, and as a meat-seller later, after the Government shut down the bar-tops. I wondered how someone as demure, as unscarred, as her could have been a butcher. She said she never had the chance to go to college, that she was not naturally gifted like I was. That she could only afford our lifestyle because she married Dad. She said I shouldn't have to stoop to the same level that she did. I think she didn't think I heard it, but I heard her say "literally" and wondered what she meant.
I cried, but that changed nothing. I was still determined to reject the offer to go to Higher Calling. Any school that hadn't been tried and tested in the local context, anyway, had no guaranteed success. I brought up the point that the school had so far only been proven in Europe, America and Japan. I mentioned that these countries had a vastly different value system, mindset etc from us. I think I was exploiting my intellect to confuse poor Mom, but I didn't care then. I just knew that if Liz didn't go, I wouldn't go no matter what, and I was determined to follow my course of action. In the end, Mom just nodded silently. I pitied her, but I knew this had to be done.
After that, I walked Boxer. He seemed to be his old self again after that scare, and he was happily bouncing around when I took him to the park. Seeing him suddenly reminded me of that scary boy in P6. Above all else, I thought he resembled a dog the most that time. Maybe that was why I got the sensation he wanted to eat us.
"Woof! Woof! Rrrow!"
"Oh dear, Boxer, leave that poor thing alone."
A little black cat was just barely out of Boxer's reach. It was lying in the bushes sleeping, and Boxer must have disturbed it. The little cat hissed and scratched, and Boxer strained at the end of his leash to bite it. I picked him up quickly before he could get hurt. This little thing was vicious. I hurried away just in time to see the cat curl up and go back to sleep.
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The Open House was the day after I received my package. It was not a very crowded open house. Only the selected were there. I noticed that nobody else I knew was there. I was special, it seemed, among my circle of friends. There was a list of CCAs available there, as well as the previous achievements of Higher Calling Central's other branches. The star-shaped logo of Higher Calling Central was all over the place. It represented excellence in its students, in Intellectual, Moral, Affective, Leadership and Emotional development. It looked a little creepy. The two points placed at the top were slightly longer than the rest, to emphasise Intellect and Leadership. It looked like something one would see in a horror movie.
An announcement boomed through the courtyard where the open house was being held.
"May all of our priviliged students please report to the Auditorium? Our staff will guide you there. Please follow them."
From nowhere, it seemed, emerged several red-clad members of the staff. All of them looked under the age of 30. Again, another reason to doubt the effectiveness of learning here. Younger teachers wouldn't know as much, I assumed, and would have less experience teaching. One more reason not to enroll in Higher Calling.
The Auditorium was impressive. It could seat around 400 at once, and there were exactly 200 of us. The grand scale of the Auditorium was matched by the biggest stage I had ever seen. It looked like you could place an SBS bus there and still have room for an elephant. And as if to attempt to prove that point, our future principal went up to speak.
He was a rotund man, appearing around 50 years of age. He looked like he had spent too much time in front of the desk and dining table and not enough in the outdoors. He was short, slightly shorter than my pathetic 1.58 metres, and Chinese. That was puzzling. Wasn't Dr Gabriel Jon Caucasian?
The fat man spoke. "Greetings, students, I am Dr Gabriel Jon's assistant, Han Zhao Huang. I am in charge here."
There was a chorus of questions. A guy shouted, "Where's Dr Jon?"
"Dr Jon cannot be present everywhere now. He is cullently in Europe on business. He weer nod be coming to Singapore."
Then, Mr Han proceeded to speak. His articulation was terrible.
"Dear studends, we are here today to well come you into our farmelly. Me and Dr Jon. You are the top twee percend of studend flom our own lesearch and govermend dehda. Today I am talging to you so you weer encourahge to join us."
I had the distinct impression that he was from China. His accent sounded vaguely similar to that of that boy who attacked me in P6.
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End, for now. Once again, comment please.
Labels: Higher Calling
