Chapter One: Time Surrendering

It was during one of those awkward preteen years, a fine line between innocence and maturity— something conveniently termed “middle school”— that I had met her. Her physical appearance went against everything I stood for, and just that was enough to give our impressions of each other a bad start.

There’s something that goes on during those middle school years that spreads like a plague—that very something, is ignorance. At the age of twelve, I thought I knew everything and anything. At the age of twelve, I thought 6-week relationships were lengthy and holding hands meant being in love. And at the age of twelve, I also entered my snobby “rebellious” stage before I could even stop to bring myself together. I’d like to say that it’s all worn off of me now, but I can’t be so sure.

And it was in English class that my teacher, Ms. Honeywell, made the best and worst decision of her life: redo seating arrangements for the entire class. I was, naturally, praying to get that lucky seat right behind the cute brown-haired boy who waved to me every morning during 10:05 passing period, but of course praying for these little things never really worked out.

“Selina, you’ll be sitting in the back row with…” Ms. Honeywell stalled, possibly trying to think of someone I wouldn’t end up passing notes or flirting with. I was pretty well known for that. And she had, initially, made a darn good choice, “…you can sit with Ella, dear.”

There was no way I was going to talk to that girl if my social reputation could help it.

“Ew,” I said to my friend next to me without hesitation, wrinkling my nose. Ella Chen was a major nobody. Social outcast was an understatement. Taking one look at the mousey boyish haircut and the baggy T-shirt and jeans, I slid into the seat beside her with great reluctance.

I stared down at my binder in silence. Today had not started off well. First, I had gotten a barely passing grade on my science test and now I was being separated from my talking buddy, Rainie, to be with…this tomboy. I gave Ella a long stare.

“H-Hello,” she muttered weakly, gazing awkwardly between me and her hands.

“Hi,” I nodded curtly at her and said no more. There wasn’t anything to talk to her about, anyway. It was clear that she needed a friend, but there was no way in hell that I’d sacrifice my social life for it.

But it was I, to my own great surprise, who’d started our first conversation and many conversations following that. And to think, it all started with my desperate need for a pencil to take a spelling test…

“Erm, my pencil ran out of lead, could I…?”

Ella had pushed a pencil to me before I could finish the sentence,

“Um, thanks?”

Conversations after that became a lot less awkward, but I didn’t forget to maintain my demeaning tone all for the sake of my so-called “middle school reputation”.

“Umm, why do you have pictures of these Asian girls all over your binder?” I pointed at the two girls on the front cover of a folder titled “MATH” in big letters.

“It’s IceFire. They’re a singing duo in Taiwan, and I’m a huge fan of them,” Ella smiled a little, eyes bright and voice proud.

“Lammeeee,” I deadpanned, taking out my makeup bag and pretending to sound uninterested. Ella’s face fell, but it spared me from social suicide on my part.

“No, they’re really cool. You should really listen to them!” Her voice wavered a bit and she forced a cheery smile, though her tone sounded slightly hurt. She began playing with the purple zipper on her binder anxiously.

“I barely have time to catch on with the American bands, much less do I have time to scour for Asian music groups,” I tried to explain, “plus, you see here, I actually have a life.”

“Ciao.” I waved the wand of my shimmery lip gloss in the air and walked out the classroom door.

At the door, however, I came across yet another social blunder, Danny—the school’s most socially awkward geek—who  held the door open for me and bowed slightly, “after the pretty Miss Selina Ren, my dear.”

“Danny, take your 17^th century politeness elsewhere and use it on someone of your species, why don’t you?” Rainie clucked, who was walking at my heels, rolled her eyes at the scene.

I gave Danny an apologetic smile and, linking arms with Rainie, strutted down the hallways, the synchronized tapping of our heels calling out our presence.

 

 

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Someone was angry. Actually, everyone was. And naturally, it was one of those pointless middle school fights, in which there was a y girl involved, a victim, a boyfriend, and a lunch table with a limited number of seats.

On that bright and mildly sunny day in October, I was that victim.

“Selina, Rainie told me that you like Alan,” the alpha of the group, Jolin, accused, folding her arms tightly across her chest as an attempt to a) make a gesture of anger and b) to accentuate her s, “how dare you like him when you knew we were an item!”

Jolin twisted her fingers together to indicate how close her relationship with Alan was.

“I didn’t say that,” I shook my head, desperately trying to defend myself.

Rainie gasped, her eyes wide, “but you did! You said so in English class the other day!”

Why that little scum of a b—

Well, it was true though. I had mentioned my tell-tale for that brown, scruffy-haired boy in English class who was also known as Alan Luo, conveniently the captain of the basketball team, most popular kid at school, and the potential boyfriend of queen-bee alpha— Jolin Tsai.

Throughout middle school, I was part of “the Lipsticks”, a clique consisting of five girls: Jolin (queen alpha), Rainie (her beta), Angela (gothic hipster), Elva (the pretty blonde sportsgirl) and me, Selina. This is precisely why I don’t want to remember those ridiculous middle school years, in which nothing mattered more than popularity, A-line clothing, and guys. I was a follower, brainless and as naïve as naivety could take me. I didn’t know what had gotten me into the conformist little cliques like those, but it had undoubtedly changed me.

Whatever happened, the limitations set upon being part of “the Lipsticks” had forced me to tuck away my gentle, sweet and optimistic mindset—in order to stay in the group and keep potential “wannabes” out of it, I had to be mean. And when I meant “mean”, I’m talking about just being plain y. I had to step on people wherever I went, flirt with guys to keep them interested, and stay away from anything group leader, Jolin Tsai, wanted.

And it was on that day, between a fight over an innocent school crush and my middle school reputation that I decided to seek out of that ridiculous social ladder forever. That was it. I was done and set on leaving.

But I can’t say that the tears were spared. If I wasn’t being melodramatic that day, I was definitely being emotional.

The world was a blur as I peeled through the crowd of onlookers, but I was headed somewhere. I wasn’t quite sure where that somewhere was, but it was definitely away from the flurry of that lunch room.

I slid into my seat in English class that day fuming. I was angry, confused, but worst of all, alone. Of all things, I had feared that the most.

Loneliness (noun): an unpleasant feeling in which a person experiences a strong sense of emptiness and solitude resulting from inadequate levels of social relationships.

It was never something that’d registered in my head before. The school videogame freak was a loner, the calculator geekfest Brian Liu was a loner, and Abbey Caravan who wore overalls, khaki pants, and neon yellow socks was a loner— but me, a loner? It couldn’t be, right?

And in the blur of nothingness ahead of me, I caught Ella staring at me in surprise. I felt , tainted to the core for showing my weak side. I was supposed to be Selina Ren, the bubbly fashionista, pampered with Chanel’s newest beauty fragrance and an assortment of this season’s lacey skirts.

But with my current condition (face streaked with a matte river of colors and loose strands of hair nearly flying out of my braids), keeping in check with my reputation was out of the question.

“What-t—?” I sobbed into my sleeve, fumbling awkwardly through my backpack in search of a tissue.

I blew my nose.

“I’m alone now,” I confessed forlornly to no one in particular. Whether I was asking for comfort or pity or just someone to prove me wrong, I did not know, “I hate this feeling…of not having a friend next to me. I feel…I dunno, insecure, I suppose…”

“That’s me every day,” Ella shrugged, dismissing my grievances nonchalantly.

But to my surprise, she had reached her hand out and was patting my head softly.

I turned, wide eyed and face still wet, to stare at her. If this was her idea of comforting someone, she was surely mistaken. What was I— her puppy? But somehow, amidst the tears and silly teenage angst, her gesture felt reassuring.

I blinked away some tears and took out another tissue, “D-Doesn’t it though, to have no friends?”

“Better no friends than fake ones.”

It was true. Talk about all those years of “friendship” with the Lipsticks and I still couldn’t find anyone amongst the group to confide in. And yet still, I had trusted too easily and spoke too honestly. Hence, today’s lunchtime disaster.

Ella’s comment was really convincing, but I didn’t even know why the heck I was taking her word for it. For one thing, I knew practically nothing about her.  Second, judging from her androgynous appearance and throaty voice, nobody even trusted her enough to befriend her.

But her genuine concern for me, despite my condescending attitude towards her earlier, was telling me otherwise.

I gave her a small smile, “T-Thanks.”

Ella gave me a slight smile in return.

“Sorry you had to see me be a crybaby,” I shook my head, “that was certainly embarrassing.”

“Not at all,” she gave me an encouraging push on the shoulder, “plus, everyone has their days.”

From that day on, I officially left the Lipsticks. Perhaps there were times they’d hint at me to go back to them, but those offers became insignificant. I found new people, discovered new interests that there was no time to turn back on something I barely called a loss.

I’d finally become Selina Ren, completely myself and no one else’s porcelain doll.

It was an irony of all ironies that day, for someone who mattered to me no more than last year’s algebra homework, to stumble into my life and remain constantly on my mind for the years to come. Ella became a best friend, a dear sister, an oxygen tank of life support.

And honestly, at the time, I couldn’t ask for more.

But it was only time that I’d grown to want things selfishly, and no matter its perfection, none of this was enough.

 

 

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