‘STEM girl, huh?’ She gives me a knowing wink that makes me grimace.
In Year Ten, we went through the obligatory skills evaluation to determine what coursework we would be most suited for. Boxing us in from the age of fifteen. So fifteen-year-old me was shitty at English and History and anything verbal, and was okay at maths and less okay but acceptable at science and technology. So not only am I a boring, stereotypical Asian nerd, I’m a mediocre one at best.
I’ve been dreading this next bit, where we have to select our HSC subjects and the pathways available. Pathways. What a ridiculous term. Because they don’t want to say they’ll help us actually get into a uni programme or show us what to do. It’s the educational equivalent of just showing us some overgrown jungle or the mouth of a cave and saying, ‘Off you go. We think this leads you to the responsible, fulfilling life that will testify to the success of the public education system. But we don’t know for sure—it’s not a road map or even a well-marked trail, it’s a pathway.’
I know some of the students are super ambitious and have high hopes and rosy dreams for their futures. Like Venti Coffee and her friends. And Lily will be like that when she gets to my age. She’s smart without trying and she has discipline and focus, not to mention that stubbornness to be better than everyone else at anything.
Meanwhile, my high school career has been just me trying to take classes I can survive and that will tick the boxes for me to get through the year.
‘How are you finding your classes this term?’ Miss Kennedy takes the printed schedule I was told to bring with me.
‘Um, they’re okay.’ But I can tell she’s not interested in how I’ve been finding Term 1 Stage 6 Chemistry at all. Instead, she pores over the schedule I’ve handed her, judging.
‘Advanced Maths, that’s good. Standard English.’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘Do you think you should be challenging yourself a bit more?’
My face goes hot. I’ve always flushed easily and am terrible at being put on the spot. ‘Well, ah, I have chemistry, economics and French, so that’s—ah—that’s the twelve units.’ I wonder why she’s questioning my schedule now, as it’s way past the point I can actually do anything about my classes. We’re already through most of first term.
‘I see.’ Miss Kennedy pushes her lips out so she looks like a beaky muppet. ‘You really need to push yourself harder, Anna. Next year is the HSC, and I don’t think I need to warn anyone about how tough it’s going to be.’
‘I—I know.’ My voice is shaky, and I swallow air.
‘What about extracurriculars?’
‘Um, I’m part of maths league?’
She crosses her arms. ‘Maths league meets only twice a term, and then there’s a single competition test. That’s not enough. What do you do after school? Any community service or volunteering? An after-school job?’
It’s like I’ve swallowed three-alarm chilli sauce. I push my glasses up against the bridge of my nose. ‘Um—I usually pick my brother up from school. And I help out at home.’ I know my face is the same shade as the fairy-floss paperclips on her desk. It sounds pathetic, I know. But she doesn’t know about everything else.
Miss Kennedy clucks her tongue with the disapproving tone that only adults know how to produce. ‘This is your second-to-last year, and if you don’t establish good study routines and habits, you’re going to find yourself grossly underprepared for next year. Find something you’re passionate about. Your subjects—they’re adequate, but you can be doing much more.’
‘Isn’t it too late to add anything to my load?’ Changes had to be finalised weeks ago, but I wonder if she can make an exception for me as the guidance counsellor.
‘I don’t mean literally, Anna.’ She’s looking at me like I’m a pitiful lamb for slaughter, smiling without teeth. ‘I’m just saying you need to start thinking long-term.’ She taps the side of her head with a lacquered nail.
Ugh. I hate this cryptic inspirational crap that adults always try to pull. I guess it also means I can’t change my schedule. Some ‘pathways’.
I don’t say this out loud. Instead, I mutter a simple ‘okay’, and take my schedule. I have to keep myself from balling it up into a thick paper pebble.
I’m halfway out the door when she calls my name. Her half-smile is an attempt to be mysterious. ‘It’s time for you to be extraordinary.’ She cocks her head towards the framed pastel print above her head that says that exact thing. She looks smug, like she’s the Dalai Lama bestowing actual wisdom, not just ripping off some print of pretty typography.
I grimace again and nod. Once outside, I crumple the offending schedule and chuck it into the nearest rubbish bin I can find. It pings against the sides too loudly, the paper taunting me with the same words already echoing in my brain.
Not enough.
3
Saam1
The bell rings and I bolt from my last class. I already have my books and everything I need from my locker, so I weave my way through the messy lines of students emerging from the hallway and am out the door.
I don’t have time to wait for the school bus so I rush to the public bus stop across the street and just manage to catch the driver’s eye as he’s closing the doors. He lets me on and I wave my pass before sinking into the first free seat.
The bus is mostly empty; I’ve beaten the usual school crowds. It’s a winding twenty-minute ride to Michael’s school, so I put on my Bluetooth headphones, a birthday present from last year when Ma had been in a good mood.
The poppy tune washes over me and I fall under its hypnotic spell. Lily says my taste in music is tragic. She listens to everything K-pop, as well as unknown bands and trendy indie artists on Spotify, while I listen to the charts. But I like thinking that someone as cool as TayTay can feel lost and out of place, just like me.
For this little moment, drumming my fingers on my thighs and trying to discreetly mouth the lyrics, I pretend like I’m a somewhat normal teenager. Nothing to worry about at home. No mum stuff. A normal teenager thinking about the school formal that I can never go to because Ma says no dates with boys. Or looking up the latest scoop with the Kardashians or Real Housewives, which I’ve never seen since we don’t have Foxtel. I could be daydreaming about kissing boys or sneaking out after dark, even though Ma said she would break my legs and kick me out of the house if I ever tried either of those, and I know she’s not joking.
I know Miss Kennedy would look upon these thoughts favourably in a well-rounded teen life. Exploring developmental boundaries, she’d call it.
In other words, normal.
I check my phone. Not much new since I’m not really on social media either, not compared to the other people my age. I have Instagram, but I don’t post and only occasionally like other people’s pics. I was on Snapchat when it was more of a thing, and didn’t see the point since I don’t have many contacts, and only used it to share silly things with Lily (and she claims she’s above all that). I have Facebook (who doesn’t?), but I only use it for Messenger.
There’s a saying in Cantonese that I quite like. If you say nothing, no one thinks you’re mute. That’s my social approach—nay, my life approach. If I don’t interact much, I won’t have to worry about what people are saying or thinking about me. I don’t have to deal with guys asking for nudes or all the account hacking and cyberbullying stuff that Ma is paranoid about because of what she reads in the Chinese newspaper.