Deil’s first trip led to the washroom. Ey, his face looked like he was on the set of a horror film. As he washed the lower half of his face, the water swirled down the drain in light pink ribbons. Deil looked at himself in the mirror. His nose really wasn’t broken. Ever since childhood, it bled easily. A harder thump and he was dropping red roses everywhere.
He looked at his reflection and thought, Even with a broken nose, I’d still look dashing.
Deil smiled. A big chunk of his frustration melted with the brawl. That was one of the reasons why he fought so often. The adrenalin rush always helped. After, he either hurt too much to be angry or had already pumped his anger out on someone else.
Coming out of the school’s campus, Deil did not make his way home. His father… Deil didn’t want to meet him right now.
After three laps of meandering around the small plaza, Deil stopped his bike with one foot on the ground. He took his phone out of his pocket.
Through these last couple of months, after his deliberate run-in with Lennox and his boys, Deil got to be on better terms with Little Mo. After all, the boy not only helped him. That day, Little Mo did not leave all the way until the end, sticking around even though Lennox called him out for it.
“Shum Deil,” Little Mo greeted as he accepted the call.
“Why are you saying my name? It’s like I called myself,” said Deil.
Little Mo chuckled. “What’s up?”
“Come out and eat. I’m treating you to food.” Deil kicked a few pebbles on the ground, balancing atop his bike.
“On what occasion?” Little Mo sounded a bit perplexed.
“I don’t want to eat alone.”
“You know me,” the boy’s tone suddenly lifted, “I’m a man who’d never say no to free food. What are we eating?”
“Barbecue.”
Little Mo came up with a few decent places. “Where are you? Do you already know where you wanna eat?”
“Mnm,” Deil sounded. “I’m at the small plaza near the school.”
“The one with the ramps?” asked Little Mo. Of course, he knew which school Deil meant. It would be foolish to think he was referring to anything other than his current high school. Little Mo’s movements could be heard through the line. He was probably outside by now. “You’re not going home?”
Deil hummed in agreement to both questions.
“Then...” Little Mo dragged his voice out before continuing, “we’ll drink?”
Deil pushed off the sidewalk, rolling towards the west side of the plaza. Since Little Mo lived that way, he reckoned it was the best spot for the other to notice him.
After a beat, he replied, “We’ll drink.”
Emi waited for Sae in front of their apartment complex with a book opened in her lap. For every five complexes, there was a half encircled little park and playground with basic equipment for the use of families with little kids. A row of benches flanked the edge of the space with trees to provide shade in the summer. Emi sat on a swing studying, kicking back and forth a few steps.
When Sae wrote to her about a change in plans, she was already at the pancake place. Sae wrote, Sorry, something came up. I can’t leave now. Meet me at home?
Emi noticed Sae rounding the corner and waved at him. She waited for him to come to her before asking, “Where were you? I’ve been waiting here for twenty minutes.”
“Is that why you’re eating a popsicle?” Sae asked. “It’s November.”
Emi grinned, “I know.”
Sae asked, “Where’s mine?”
“Go to the store and buy one. There’s nothing for you here.”
“Stop studying and come with me then,” said Sae. “Why didn’t you go up?”
“I didn’t think you’d be so late.” Emi closed the book, jumped up and followed Sae to the convenience store. When they arrived, the cashier greeted them. Before the cashier could say anything else, Sae turned around and gently pushed Emi outside. He pointed to the glass door peppered with various stickers. “You can’t eat ice cream inside.”
Emi humphed, “Hmm.”
Three minutes later, Sae came out with a popsicle, the frozen-into-a-plastic-bag kind. He nudged Emi’s knee with it.
The little girl turned around and stood up from one of the chairs in front of the store. “What flavour?”
“Watermelon,” replied Sae.
“Ugh, that’s just plain sugary water. You know I don’t like that,” complained Emi.
“I know.” Sae tore the cap off and started sucking on the ice cream. “That’s why I bought it. This way, you won’t ask for any.”
Under the vibrant colours of dusk, they made their way back to the apartments. The ice cream was tasty and sweet, melting on Sae’s tongue, although the flavour of watermelon did get lost amidst all the sweetness.
Emi opened her mouth to say, “You are one stingy individual, Hoh Saering.”
“It’s just ice cream.” Sae felt the accusation unproved without actual facts.
“Mean when it comes to any type of sweets,” Emi continued, “You are like Winnie the Pooh with honey, but less kind and calculating. Where’s your pot, huh?”
Sae cracked up, holding the door with his shoulder for Emi in the lobby area. The lift was available, so they didn’t have to wait. “Dunno, I left it behind. What did you get?”
Emi had finished her popsicle while she waited. Now the middle of her lips was dyed faint purple. “Blueberry. Is my face blue somewhere?” She angled her chin towards Sae.
“Mnm, your mouth is a bit purple.”
“Huh,” Emi took out her phone to check it. She took three pictures sticking her tongue out. One of them had Sae in it as well. After slipping her phone back into her skirt pocket, she asked, “Why were you late then? Who were you with?”
“Shum Deil,” said Sae indifferently.
Emi yanked her head to the side so fast her neck almost cramped. “What? You were late because you were with the guy who broke your arm? Did you finally smack him?”
“No.” Sae thought about it and added, “But he did almost punch me.”
They stepped off the lift on the 14th floor. Emi would put her bag down at her home, change, and come to Sae’s house a bit later. She asked, “So you fought!?”
“Not exactly. I got held up in the teachers’ office.” Sae crunched on the ice cream’s cap. The poor wrapping gave out a high pitched perishing sound. “It’s not a big deal, don’t mind it.”
“Can you lend me the moped tomorrow?” Little Mo asked after he came back from the nearby cafe’s restroom. The store they went to didn’t have a washroom, so Little Mo had to go to the cafe across the street.
“Told you not to drink so much,” Deil said between bites, “What are you, a barrel? You’re trying to hoard, aren’t you?”
“Only hoarding your goodwill.” Little Mo cracked up. He smiled and nodded at Deil as both of his eyes shut for a moment, giving a quick double wink at whoever was beside him. “So, will you give me the moped?”
Other than his bike, Deil was in possession of a moped as well. That thing was a hundred years old, but his grandpa especially had it made into an electric one. Grandpa gave it to him to use when he visited their little town. The fieldlands belonging to each family were far, and the roads were narrow. It was not only faster to use a vehicle but safer as well. Deil happily rode on it, even though it was still illegal for him to drive alone back then.
After getting his licence, he took it back with him to B city from time to time. That way, even if his father wasn’t around, he could comfortably visit his grandparents.
“The moped? Why?” he asked. One-third of the kebab they ordered remained on the tray in the middle of the table, untouched. He chose a curry-vegetable-chicken piece and placed it in his mouth.
“I have been asked out for transportation purposes,” said Little Mo. He took another gulp of his beer.
“Dumbass, you can’t pick up girls with that old thing,” Deil laughed. “Who’d want to follow you anywhere?”
“That’s not it,” Little Mo shook his head, putting the bottle on the table. “My grandma asked me to pick up cabbages.”
“Cabbages?”
“Yes.” Little Mo nodded. “It’s the season of prickling. Do you remember the sour cabbage stew she made last time?”
Deil nodded. “Mnm. I remember.”
“Well, she needs forty kilos of cabbages.” Little Mo looked down at his hands as if to assess the probability of dragging four sacks of cabbages back without a vehicle. “I can’t bring that back in hand.”
“You can’t,” Deil agreed after swallowing. “Where are you buying?”
“There’s a wholesale market near the community centre twice a week. The old lady made a bargain with a cabbage man she knows. They’ll give it for a cheaper price if we buy over twenty-five kilos.” Little Mo waved the last beef skewer at Deil.
Deil shook his head, indicating that he did not want it. “How much cheaper?”
“I don’t know… they already agreed on the price. I will only make the transaction and pick up the goods. Granny gave me the exact sum.”
“The exact sum? Not even gas money?” asked Deil.
“Fuck. You want my granny to pay for gas money?” Little Mo slapped a hand on the table, his eyes big and round.
Deil had the urge to laugh. “Yea,” he said, “...pay me with a meal when the cabbages have ripened. You really think I’m that stingy? Tch, good going! By the way, the moped is fully electric.”
Little Mo blinked, a bit stunned. Indeed, it wasn’t every day that Deil teased him. Or at all. Little Mo counted the bottles on the table. Was it his imagination, or did Deil look especially… loose? He acted even more laid back than before he got transferred out of their junior high. Did he win the lottery or really beat someone up?
“What time do you need it?” Deil asked on their way out. True to his previous words, he single-handedly paid for the whole affair.
“Early morning?” Little Mo said, uncertain. He sucked on a mint candy the store gave out in a tiny basket at the cashier.
“Come now then. Take it home and drive back after you’re done or whenever,” Deil said, “You don’t need to bring it right away, but if you null the battery right in front of my house...”
“Do you actually think I’d ask for it just to be that shameless?”
“Depends. I only think that as much as you perceive me as someone so cheap to expect your grandmother to pay for gas.”
“Fuck I was wrong,” Little Mo said, a bit exasperated, “I’ve made a mistake.”
“At least you know,” Deil smirked.
They walked to the bike racks. Deil retrieved his bike, got on, pulled a cigarette from the inside pocket of his jacket, and lit it.
Little Mo seemed a bit reluctant before asking, “Is it alright, though? You just got into a fight. Won’t your dad be against me taking the moped?”
“Nah.” Deil blew out smoke as they made their way out of the narrow side road. The bike’s wheels made a soft ticking sound. “He doesn’t care about it. I don’t need to tell him.” He gave a tiny laugh under his breath. “Maybe he’d even be happy? That way, the probability of me crashing the moped rapidly decreases.”
“Sometimes I’m kind of envious of you, you know,” Little Mo said, “Your parents don’t try to manage you so hard. You have leeway in certain things.”
Hearing this, Deil paused and turned to the other. But Little Mo didn’t notice. It got dark while they were eating, a deep violet sinking in the sky. Deil pushed the bike with one foot on the asphalt as he smoked. The tip of the stub glowed bright red with every inhale.
Was it really something to envy? This kind of home situation?
At best, his dad acted like they were distant relatives. It was true that he had a lot of leeway, but that all came with a cost.
His dad had stopped trying to manage him, fair point. Although, it wasn’t the man’s innate lack of concern that stopped his control over Deil. More like a conditioned disdain drilled in by Deil’s behaviour over and over again. And his mum… his mum simply wasn’t there. She did not have the right to manage anything regarding him. She lost it with the distance she took to get away.
In the past few years, Deil sometimes pondered what it would be like if his family was akin to the things he heard from others around him. And in these last months, he thought, Do I have it better, or does a kid like Little Mo have it better?
Little Mo lived with his parents, his brother and his fraternal grandmother. He whined about getting scolded all the time but still went around causing trouble nonetheless. His aunt and her family lived three floors down in the same complex as them, while his mother’s brother lived fifteen minutes away. The extended surveillance that followed him at least two blocks around his home’s perimeter was no joke.
Deil had eaten at their place at the beginning of summer. That time, all the cousins gathered like a family excursion. Little Mo’s granny treated him like one of the lost cousins, like he was just another kid to be added to the head count.
Deil flicked the end of his cigarette away before saying, “You only get managed because you suck so hard at academics. You go to your brother’s school. How hard could that be?”
“Well, not everyone’s got an eidetic memory,” Little Mo countered. He wasn’t dumb or that lazy. His ranking wasn’t so bad in junior high, but he messed up the entrance exam and had to go to one of the lower high schools in the city. Not only the students who went there, but even the teachers weren’t ambitious enough to do a passing job. Or it could be said that they gave up on the kids, so everyone stopped trying.
“I’m not stupid.” Little Mo continued, “Those teachers are worth as much as a bag of potatoes. I could not go in at all and still have the same understanding of specific subjects. Funny how I’m not an idiot with things that are actually written down.”
They made it to the industrial park’s fancy neighbourhood. Deil steered them in the direction of the underground parking lots. “Give me a problem set then. I’ll do it. You can refer back to the solution process in the future.”
Little Mo did a double take. “What happened to you?” he asked, dumbfounded. “Shit, all these years, when did you ever offer to help me?”
“Don’t want it?” Deil sneered, “Whatever.”
“No, no,” Little Mo reached a palm out. “I need it. I was just a bit overwhelmed by this unknown goodwill.”
“Well, didn’t you say you’re hoarding it?”
“Yeah, yeah. Thank you, great lord, for the kindness!” The brat even bowed down to mock Deil.
They arrived at the spot. Deil pushed off his bike and unlocked the moped. He took the key from his keychain and threw it over to Little Mo. “I have a helmet in my room somewhere. Do you need it for a show to your granny?”
Little Mo shook his head while grinning. He sat on the moped and took a practice spin around the underground lot, stopping before Deil once he circled back.
“You know how to ride it, right? Have a permit at least?” Deil wasn’t about to bail the brat out if he got caught by the police.
“I know. You don’t have to worry.” Little Mo grabbed his backpack and dragged it to the front, looping his other arm through it. He dug around for a while, producing a couple of problem sets.
Deil took it. The tips of his fingers were slightly red from the chilly night air. “All these? Maths, physics, chemistry? Ey, having a field day, are we.” He looked over the materials and nodded. “Okay, these are easy. I’ll give it back when you bring the moped around.”
Not missing a single opportunity to brag.
Little Mo tsk’d in his heart. He sighed soulfully. “Oh, to be so smart; how nice.”
Deil looked about ready to sit down right there in the hazy light of the parking lot and solve every problem to prove what an academic god he was. He would even ask Little Mo to time him.
“If your grades improve, tell your mum it’s my merit,” he said smugly.
Little Mo wanted to whack him – the only thing stopping him was the vehicle between his thighs. He decided not to pay Deil any attention.
“I’m going then. See you tomorrow.” Little Mo waved.
“Mnm,” Deil leaned on his bike, rolling the papers in his hand into a tube. He hit his leg a few times with it, then nodded goodbye to the other. Deil watched Little Mo whoosh out of the parking lot before making his way home.
Unit F7 had nine floors in all. The Shum family lived on the seventh floor, apartment 705. The larger apartments all had three metres long hallways connecting the entrance to the main room. It was a great space to store all kinds of things. Deil took up his bike in the lift and put it not far from their front door.
His dad had been waiting for him. “You’re back.”
“Mnm.” One look and Deil knew his old man had something to say. “Did the school call?”
“What? No,” his dad said. He was a bit perplexed by the sudden question. “Where were you? Did you eat?”
“I already ate,” Deil said, passing the professor on his way to wash his hands.
“You could’ve called,” his dad reprimanded him, “I was waiting for you.”
Deil came out of the bathroom and edged towards his room so that his dad wouldn’t see his face. But the man tailed after him, stopping at his door. “Why would the school call? Did something happen?”
Deil shrugged out of his jacket and shirt with his back to the door. Fortunately, his undershirt wasn’t too bloody, only a patch marring its front neckline. With his head down, Deil scrolled through his phone. Messages from Teacher Shem piled up one after the other. His head teacher wrote in abundance but did not take sides yet. He was very impartial, telling Deil that he wouldn’t take another step until he heard about what happened personally from him. That meant not calling his father yet.
“Teacher Shem will probably call you tomorrow,” Deil said, looking up. His dad was still standing outside of his room and finally caught a peek at Deil’s face. Deil added, “I was in a fight.”
His dad’s only reaction was to sigh and support his temple with three of his fingers. He said, defeated, “I thought you stopped that.”
He took a few steps inside the room, looking over Deil’s appearance. Noticing that a bruise had already spread under Deil’s eyes, pain swelled in his gaze. Without a word, he observed it for a few seconds. “Is it serious? We can go get it checked if you want. Or, are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Not really.” Deil stopped moving, standing there like a statue until his dad made sure he was alright. He whispered, “Dad, I’m fine.”
The professor’s eyes lit up with surprise at the soft tone of Deil’s voice. He nodded and stepped back, looking like he wanted to say something else but thought better of it. “You’re fine. Good.”
Deil added, “I don’t think you’ll have to come to school. It’s mostly for notifying purposes.”
His dad nodded and cleared his throat. “Can we talk now? I’ve wanted to tell you something.”
“If it’s about that… I’m not going.” Deil looked for a clean shirt. “I don’t want to go, and I’m not missing school.”
His father hesitated but nodded. “Alright. I felt like you’d say this. I respect your decision of not wanting to meet your mother.” He let out a breath. “Well, it’s only for three days. I’ve talked to your aunt. You can stay with her if you want.”
“I’ll think about it,” Deil started unpacking his backpack. There wasn’t much to unpack besides a few notebooks and two books. His fingers brushed the problem sets that Little Mo left with him. He took them out, smoothing the sheets of paper on the table.
“Good.” His father watched him. “We’ll talk about the specifics later. I’ll discuss your matter with Teacher Shem tomorrow.”
“Mnm,” Deil sounded.
His dad loitered awkwardly for another minute in the room, then turned to leave. “Don’t stay up too late studying.”
“Mnm,” Deil said, “Goodnight.”
“Alright, son. Night.”
Emi had left after dinner. Sae caught a glance of the little girl checking the messages on her phone as she left, but before he could get a closer look, the front door closed behind her. He felt it was a bit suspicious. Since when did Emi check her phone the moment she stepped out of his house? Even now, Sae was a bit distracted, thinking about it. But he had to speak with his mum first.
The issue he had to broach deviated too much from the matter ‘natural’ to just drop in any conversation. It had been a long time since Sae got called into the teachers’ office, and it had been even longer since his head teacher had to call in for his guardian.
His mum was washing the dishes when Sae appeared beside her.
“Ah!” the woman cried. A knife slipped from her hand with a clutter. “You surprised me!”
Sae’s mum put a hand on her chest to calm down. “Don’t just sneak up! You’re silent like a ghost. It could’ve been dangerous. What if I cut myself?”
“Sorry.” Sae shrunk his neck. “I didn’t expect you to not hear me coming.”
“Then, next time, clap or something.” His mum went back to washing the dishes and it got quiet for a while.
Sae leaned on the counter, lazy and soft. He took off his glasses, pinched his shirt and rubbed the lenses clean. He put back on the glasses and waited.
Out of the blue, a boom echoed from Sae’s palms.
His mother flinched again and sucked in a sudden breath. “What now?” she asked in a wavering voice.
“You got frightened again. No matter if I clap before coming or just approach, you get scared,” said Sae.
“I wasn’t ready,” his mum objected. “I didn’t expect you to clap so closely to me.”
Sae took a freshly washed glass and poured some water for his mother. He waited for her to rinse all the suds off her hand before giving her the glass to drink. He said, “If I clap next time to signal I’m coming, you’ll be equally unprepared.”
“I’ll train my mind then. Train it to expect you to clap around.” She looked to the side. The wonderful thing about mothers was that it only took one look, and they knew if something happened. “What is it? I reckon you didn’t scare me just for fun. Out with it.”
“I didn’t scare you on purpose. You got scared by yourself,” Sae corrected. He put the glass that got handed back to him on the counter. Its surface was still wet, stray drops of water sliding down its side. Sae caught a couple with the pad of his finger. “Tomorrow, I have to go to school a bit earlier. There will be a discussion.”
“Okay,” his mother nodded. “Do you need breakfast, or will you buy something on the way?”
“I’ll buy something. It’s too early to eat at that time. I’d have to wake up earlier or I’ll be late.” Involuntarily, Sae’s voice turned a little nasally. “I don’t want to wake up earlier.”
His mum smiled at him. “I won’t wake you then.”
Sae smiled back at her. “Teacher Pan wants an explanation about what I witnessed today after school when I hit somebody.” His tone did not waver, and he stood straight before his mother. She had to tilt her head to look into his eyes. She didn’t look that surprised, but her previous smile retreated.
His mum dried her hands on a towel and touched Sae’s arm. “Let’s talk.”
They sat down at the kitchen table.
Sae’s mum was a steady person. She waited for him to get seated comfortably before indicating with her eyes for him to start.
“Today, after club ended, there was a fight in the yard. Two kids fell off the stairs, colliding with me. One of them thought I was the one he’d been fighting, so took a swing at me. I retaliated from reflex.”
Sae’s mum nodded. Her expression was open and understanding. She wasn’t angry or ready to judge until she heard it all. “Go on.”
“The other student pulled the upperclassman I was swinging at to the side. My fist grazed the upperclassman’s ear. He was only a little injured by my punch. A teacher came, and we went to the office, but the principal wasn’t in. Tomorrow we’ll be needed for a discussion.”
His mum let out a breath. She asked, “They want you as a witness? Not an assailant?”
Sae nodded. “Probably. I told the teacher that found us that I had hit the upperclassman. It’s not the main issue.”
“Mnm,” Sae’s mum sounded. They communicated like this every time Sae got into trouble in the past. Of course, like any other parent, Sae’s mum took her son’s side time after time. She liked to hear Sae’s thoughts first before listening to the school’s objective stance. “So your head teacher knows about it?”
“She got notified on the phone,” Sae explained, “She called me later as well. In the morning, every teacher affected will be there. She’ll talk to you after the meeting.”
His mum thought in silence. The light overhead bathed in the warm coloured walls, giving her face a calm, kind image. A while later, she asked, “Will it affect you? There’ll be a deduction of points.”
“I don’t think they’d punish us heavily,” Sae said, “The upperclassman goes to the office every other week for something.”
“And the other boy? Why did they fight?”
“That’s the question.”
His mum reached after Sae’s hand, and he let her. She squeezed his fingers in a loose grip. “Thank you for telling me first.”
Sae did not think it was something to be thankful for. He said, “I didn’t want you to get a call from Teacher Pan all of a sudden.”
The mother trusted her son. They talked about it, and the issue didn’t seem like a particularly difficult one. She stroked his knuckles a couple of times, made to stand and said, “Well, go on then, do your thing. You’ll finish the dishes tonight.”
