We were friends for one period. Outside of that badminton class, we were nothing but strangers.
“Good morning,” he trudged into the classroom with his sagged pants, earrings, and faint smell of tobacco.
“Yo! Look who showed up. So early today,” his friend fist bumped him as he passed by the rows of desks to his table.
“Right? Just on time for lunch,” he smirked frivolously.
“…excuse me,” I mumbled as I tried to bypass them.
“Sorry haha, you’re just too short,” his friend snickered.
“She’s such a teacher’s pet.”
“Such a tryhard.”
“Hahaha…”
I walked towards the cafeteria as their voices blended into the background of chattering.
Our life was like two parallel lines that should never have crossed. But when I moved back from California to Taiwan in middle school, I transferred to a middle school that has the specialized art program I was interested in. It wasn't my mom's fault; we couldn't have known that since we had just moved back. She was also very confused by the strange looks she had and awkward silences when people asked her where her daughter goes to school. We later found out that it was a school notorious for problem students.
I don't remember how it exactly started. But he somehow became the one person I played badminton with in that class.
“I bet you can’t win me,” he grinned provocatively.
“Well, you never know if you don’t try,” I replied.
“I’m so scared,” He whined with an exaggerated expression to annoy me and returned a short, high shot; the easiest ones to smash down.
I seized the opportunity. And the shuttle came down hitting his face.
“Ouch! That hurts!” he covered his eyes and squatted down.
“Are you okay?!” I dropped my racket and went beside him swiftly.
“Ha! Got you!”
“…drama queen,” I rolled my eyes.
Our friendship was built on an unspoken understanding- his not telling, and my not asking. We were masters of obliviousness, expertly ignoring our stark differences as that was the only way that we could be friends. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We would be friends. Badminton friends. For an hour. He developed a rule for himself that he's not allowed to do smash hits on me. And every time after class, he would go to the vending machine, and buy me chocolate bars and electrolyte drinks. And wouldn't let me pay him back.
"If you want to pay me back, then you should choose this class next semester too, so that we can play badminton together again."
"Pinky promise," I smiled.
One day after a late session of competition prep for my art portfolio, while I was walking to the MRT station, I saw a group of teenagers fighting in a narrow alley. It was pitch dark, but somehow, I still figured out his vague silhouette in the crowd. He was on the ground, taking fists and kicks raining down.
I froze.
"What are you looking at?" a teenager aggressively walked towards me.
I looked down on the ground, hurried my footsteps towards the MRT station.
Don’t look back. It's none of my business.
I grabbed onto my backpack straps tightly.
I felt his gaze follow me on the back of my head, all the way to the station.
I didn’t want to know who he was other than the person who I known him to be. I didn’t want to find out. I was too afraid to pop the bubble. I was afraid to lose him.
I was such a coward.
I never asked him what happened that day, and he never mentioned it. I averted my eyes over his bruises. And pretend that nothing ever happened. We played rounds and rounds of badminton matches. But I got suddenly annoyed by him always playing soft on me. I asked him to use smashes, to play me for real for once. He didn’t answer, but just patiently sent back the shuttle. I begged him. But he replied in his usual enigma smile. Then I got furious. I smashed the badminton shuttle towards him again and again. More and more aggressively.
“What do you want from me? Princess?” he said at last, with a tone I couldn’t comprehend.
I stopped. And I realized, I didn’t know what I wanted from him.
I wanted to go closer to him, but there’s an abyss so deep that I can't see the end in between us. And I know, I was trying to break the unspoken rule which is what’s keeping us from falling apart.
When I realized, my tears were flooding down.
I was such a coward.
I shortly learned from my dad that we will be moving to California again in the summer. Only that this time, there isn’t an end date.
On the last day of class before summer vacation, after class, he, as usual, bought me a bottle of electrolyte drink and a chocolate bar from the vending machine.
“So, I’ll see you next semester?” He smiled as he looked into my eyes.
His pupils were as clear as glazed glass.
I felt like screaming and exploding and running away at the exact same time.
I took a mouthful of the sweet and sour and salty electrolyte drink.
I swallowed.
I forced my face to squeeze into a convincing smile and looked into his eyes.
“See you next semester.”
I was such a coward.