Walking on

Tightrope

Bih-Ning Yang

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Words Checked: 6467

Words in Oxford 3000: 92%

Contents

About the Author-------------------p 4

Prologue: Tipped Off its Hinges----p 7

Chapter I: Breaking the Habit------p 9

Chapter II: Euphoria----------------p 29

Chapter III: Funambulism----------p 49

Chapter IV: The Art of Falling------p 54

Epilogue: After the Rain------------p 72

References--------------------------p 78

Acknowledgement-----------------p 79

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About the Author

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are

looking at the stars."

— Oscar Wilde (Lady Windermere's Fan) ☺

First of all, a warm welcome to all you

readers who happened to stumble across

this book. Before moving on to the next

page, are you sure you don’t want to know

anything about the author, which is to say,

me?

Well, assuming that you would want to

know something about me, I’ll start off with

the basics: my name is Bih-Ning Yang, 17

years old, and I am currently a third year

student at Wenzao Ursuline College of

Languages.

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Influenced by a book loving friend, I

began my journey into the realms of books

some years ago, and I haven’t stopped

since then. And even though I haven’t

actually written anything that I had

actually really liked yet, I am aspiring to be

a part-time novelist.

It might seem kind of impossible at the

moment, but like what Oscar Wilde wrote

in his books, we might be in the gutter now,

but we can all gaze up at the stars, can’t

we?

Lastly, although this book might not have

gone the way I had planned it, I still

enjoyed writing it, and with this, I hope I

will be able to write more in the future.

With that said and done, enjoy the read!

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To all those out there who’s everyday life is

like walking on a tightrope.

*The content in this book is purely fictional,

though some parts might be based off real stories

that the author have heard from others.

Prologue: Tipped Off its Hinges

“It was the best of times, it was the worst

of times.”

-A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens

That was the famous opening line that

Charles Dickens used to describe the most

explosive era in history─the French

Revolution. A very befitting line indeed for

one of the milestones that had tipped the

world off its hinges and into the beyond. It

seemed outrageous that I dared to use

such famous lines to start off such a petty

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thing as the story that I am writing right

now, and while I will admit this little tale

that I am about to recount right now served

as no milestone to the world, it did alter

one little thing: my world.

When I was little, a teacher once told me

that I was always the brave and the strong

one. I had believed so too. I had always

thought that I knew exactly what I was

doing and where I intended to go.

But she was wrong, and so was I.

It all happened during my third year at

Norwood Secondary School. That was the

year that I leapt into the air and soared.

That was also the year which I tripped and

fell. That was the year that I thought I had

finally won everything, then only to turn

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around and realize all that I had lost.

It was the best of times, it was the worst

of times.

Chapter I: Breaking the Habit

“You all assume

I'm safe here in my room

Unless I try to start again.”

-Breaking the Habit, Linking Park

Beep. Beep Beep. Beep~~

What was worse: a dinosaur roaring

outside your windows or your digital alarm

clock singing its heart out? The latter. The

simple reason would be that when you hear

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a dinosaur roaring outside, you’d be up and

about in no time, either frantically running

around your bedroom searching for a

camera, or running for your life; in other

words, something different from your

boring life routine. With the alarm clock,

you’d probably be chucking your pillows at

the dreadful beeping thing and cursing

non-stop before-

“Theresa, it’s time to get up!”

Your mother came to wrench you into

reality, and-

“Woof! Woof!”

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Your dog would be doing the same thing,

scratching at your door.

With a glare at the glowing orange

“07:00”, I hit the off button with more force

than necessary, knocking over the now

mute machine. With a sigh I reluctantly put

it back to its original place on the bedside

table, glancing at the minute little numbers

blinking at the corner of the clock: “4th

Sept”. A feeling of dread crept up my back,

and simultaneously, I felt as if someone

had dropped a big boulder upon my chest,

making breathing seems harder than

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usual.

4th of September, signaling the end of the

glorious summer vacation and the start of

my third year at Norwood Secondary

School, the most prestigious private school

in town. If I had been any other ordinary

teenager, I would have been thrilled going

back to school and seeing all of my friends.

However, I had only been what one would

call an outcaste, the barely visible

creatures that lurked in the shadows of

school life, cowering under the might of

those who had the power. Nothing too

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special; just the norms of Secondary

School life.

After a quick shower, I unwillingly put on

the hideous Norwood Uniform. It consisted

of a black skirt, white blouse, purple

pullover and a purple blazer, the exact

same color as Barney the

purple-singing-dinosaur. Yuck!

“Woof! Woof!” came a muffled barking

noise from behind my bedroom door.

“Oh Gerry, can’t you just be quiet for

once?” I said exasperatedly as I opened the

door to see Gerry, the golden retriever,

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wagging his tail, holding the leash in his

mouth. “And no, Gerry, no walks! I’ve got

school today.”

Gerry just grinned on, his tail whipping at

the wall and carpeted floor. I smiled despite

myself, thinking of how I would rather

trade my life with Gerry rather than to face

what school would bring. At least Gerry had

the whole day free in front of him, in which

he could munch on dog biscuits or go for a

walk with my mother... I patted him on his

great golden head, and raced him down the

staircase to breakfast.

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***

The London sky was still basking in its

summer glories, and not a single cloud

could be seen in the great blue heavens

above. Riding down Beaumont Road on my

bike, with the fresh morning wind

whispering amongst the trees, I could for a

moment forget altogether where I was

heading. But I knew this feeling of

tranquility was short-lived, for this

year…well, to tell you the truth, I had

absolutely no idea what would happen. I

could only hope that they would remember

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me and the good times we had had during

the summer. There was only a glimmer of

hope twinkling ahead, and I was ready to

take it.

I turned into the long stretch of road that

was Bradley Street, passing several

identical looking red bricked Victorian

houses along the way. Without thinking, I

paused before number six. That was where

Kathleen O’Dell, my best friend lived. We

had known each other for so long that we

could hardly remember how long we had

been best friends. She was not a very

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morning person and so we hardly ever

went to school together, so it baffled me for

a moment why I had chosen to stop at her

house. Shrugging, I continued down the

road ahead of me, not knowing that maybe

I had just unknowingly said “Sorry” and

“Goodbye” to my dearest friend.

Stopping before the red light at Crown

Dale Lane, I could see the iron wrought

front gates of Norwood looming ahead, and

on one of the gates, set upon a golden

plaque were the words:

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NORWOOD SECONDARY SCHOOL

HONESTY‧FAITH‧COURAGE

Yes, that was what Norwood wanted

others to think of us, like we were some

kind of saints, or the noble Knights of the

Round Table: honesty, faith, and courage.

As if! I scoffed silently to myself. The

honesty part has already been broken by

setting that plaque up. Heaving a deep

breath, I followed the throng of other

purple-clad Barneys into the heart of

Norwood.

The story was set in motion then.

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It was eight-forty, ten minutes before the

bell would ring for class. The sky was a

clear aquamarine blue, and the air smelled

of the many fresh pine trees that lined the

outer parameter of the school yard. That

was when her majesty came with all her

ladies-in-waiting: Irene Danti and her

gang.

“Hey, Theresa!” squealed Irene’s sweet

soprano voice, her jade colored eyes

shining innocently under the mild

September sun. “How was summer after

the camp? I missed you so much!”

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“We tried phoning you yesterday but

your mobile was off!” squeaked the

Queen’s right-hand woman, Alexandra

Glynn. “We have so much to tell you! You’d

never guess what happened to Irene after

the camp!”

Within the span of a summer, I was

promoted from the lowly kitchen maid in

the great palace that was Norwood, into

one of her majesty’s ladies-in-waiting. I

smiled then, thinking that I had at last

begun to soar.

***

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Sometimes, certain sacrifices would have

to be made in order to maintain one’s

position of power.

“Tell her to stop bugging us, okay?”

“Tell that piece of crap to get lost!”

“Theresa, I know you guys are like ‘best

friends’ or something, but if you want to

stay with us…then you know what you have

to do.”

There were no alternatives, or at least

there seemed to be none. I approached

Kathleen one afternoon at the Park, a big

green area set at the center of our

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neighborhood. With a strained smile pasted

on my face, I told her to please stay away.

The tone of my voice was soft, but I knew

that my words were cruel.

At first she had tried laughing it off,

trying to shake me back into the Theresa

that she had known. Then, she had yelled

at me, her eyes widening in disbelief, in

anger. Finally, she went into submission,

though she still tried to reason with me.

“I thought I knew you,” Kathleen had said

to me, looking at me as if she was really

seeing me for the first time. “How could

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you have caved in so easily? You’re

supposed to be the stronger one out of the

two of us.”

I looked away, at the old man feeding the

pigeons near the fountains. A few sparrows

flitted in and out of the flock of pigeons,

fighting determinedly with the bigger birds

for bread crumbs. They looked so pitiful

together, those little brown mass of

feathers. So what if one day the pigeons

offered a little sparrow a chance to be

friends? What if one day the pigeons

offered to share food with the little sparrow

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under the condition that it would away from

the other sparrows? Would it seize its

chance just as I had grabbed mine?

“You had always been the stronger

one…you told me not to give in to them.”

“Well, Kath, I thought so too. I seriously

did,” I replied earnestly. “But I guess, we

were both horribly wrong.”

“Theresa-”

“I am sorry Kath,” I said firmly. “I had to

break the pattern. I had to try and start

again.”

Kathleen stood rooted to the spot, lost for

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words.

“At least I’ll get them not to tease you so

much. I’ll make sure of it, okay? That’s a

silver lining, right?” I forced myself to smile,

to make myself believe in what I was

saying, but I guess even I did not really

believe in those last few words.

I left Kathleen standing there like statues

of the mythical creatures that poured water

into the fountain. I felt so utterly sick with

myself, but at the same time, there was

also relief. I was finally accepted by the

crowd!

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On my way home, I passed a group of

teens performing near the metro entrance.

Their lead singer was the typical punk with

green spiky hair. I stayed and watched for a

while, listening to the singer blasting his

energy into his interpretation of one of

Linkin’ Park’s song “Breaking the Habit”:

I don’t know what’s worth fighting for

Or why I have to scream

I don’t know why I instigate

And say what I don’t mean

I don’t know how I got this way

I know it’s not alright

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So I’m

Breaking the habit

Tonight

I was breaking the pattern that had been

my life for two years at Norwood.

I knew exactly what was worth fighting

for.

I had to break that pattern; I had to

break that habit.

Chapter II: Euphoria

"Sooner or later, you’l have tol wake up.”

All too soon, the last remaining traces of

summer were dissolved in the harsh

November rain. For the past few weeks, the

sky had remained the same steel grey and

the sun must have taken off on holiday to

somewhere warmer like Puerto Rico. It was

the last class of the day, English with Mr.

Cormier. I stared gloomily out of the

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windows, at the blurry outlines of trees,

buildings, and angry Londoners trying to

take cover under the great bucketful of rain,

lost in the realms of daydream.

“‘Fair is foul, and foul is fair:

Hover through the fog and filthy air.’”

Mr. Cormier was reading aloud from

Macbeth by Shakespeare in his deep

monotonous voice, and so absorbed was Mr.

Cormier in the story that he had failed to

notice that more than half of the class were

already dozing peacefully behind their

books. Normally, English would have been

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one of my favourite classes, but English

with Mr. Cormier was more like sessions of

hypnotherapy. Even if you enter the class

filled to the brim with energy, by the end of

the first ten minutes, you’d already be left

in a state of complete stupor.

“Psst…Theresa…” hissed a voice from

somewhere behind me, jerking me back to

reality. Sarah Brown slipped a piece of

neatly folded paper to me from under her

table. She beamed at me, as though she

and I were the best of friends, but inwardly,

I was thinking along the lines of “Hypocrite

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idiot,”.

“Thanks!” I mouthed back at her, forcing

a smile on my face. Since I had been

hanging around Irene and Alexandra,

people whom I hardly knew had been

coming up to me, wagging their tails and

lolling their tongues, acting as if they had

had always stood by me. Often, I would

have to resist the urge of rolling my eyes

when their act got a little too gooey. Well,

thinking on the bright side, at least people

“liked” me now.

Carefully, sneaking furtive looks at Mr.

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Cormier, I unfolded the paper. It was from

Alexandra, and it said:

Let’s hang out after school.

17:00 @ the usual place.

-Alex ☺

I turned around in my seat to give Alex

the affirmative. She winked at me, before

resuming to paint her nails a sparkly blue.

That was about all Alex did during class.

She would either be chatting or flirting with

someone, or she would be doing her nails,

face…well, you get the idea. She was the

typical airhead, another trait that many of

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the other in-crowd girls seemed to share.

To tell you the truth, it all seemed very

meaningless and boring to me, but I guess,

I would just have to force myself to get

used to that.

“‘When he hath lost noble Macbeth hath

won,’” concluded Mr. Cormier just as the

bell tolled for the last time that day. “That’s

it for today folks, and please don’t forget to

finish all the questions on the sheet I’ve

given you. See you all tomorrow!”

***

Weeks passed in a haze of flying colors,

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and without any discontent in life. I was

getting to know more and more people

both in and out of school, thanks to Irene’s

huge circle of friends. Even though we were

often joined by a huge group of people

during lunch break and on weekend

shopping trips, at other times it was just

mainly the three of us: Irene, Alex, and I.

On those occasions, we were often joined

by Irene’s boyfriend Jack Jeffrey, and his

friend, Douglas Whay.

Jack and Douglas were both in Year

Eleven, two years our seniors, and it was

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also because of that, Irene became the

cause of envy in our year. Correction: Irene

had always been the cause of envy in our

year. Everywhere you go, you’d hear girls

squealing things like “Irene’s so lucky! Why

can’t it ever happen to me?”, or “Oh! Why

can’t I look like her?” The usual.

Jack, a member of the school’s football

team, was tall, lean and muscular. He was

undoubtedly handsome, and unfortunately,

he knew it, too. He was full of himself and

had developed a habit of running his hand

through his copper hair every now and then.

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Irene thought it was cute, but I found it

nauseating...not that I’d mention it out

loud. In addition to being a complete

Narcissus, he seemed to have an incredibly

low IQ as well. This makes talking to him

extremely painful since there were only a

few things that he was interested in talking

about: himself, Irene, football, himself,

himself, and did I mention himself?

Douglas, who had the most incredible

blonde hair and blue eyes I had ever seen,

was not the drop-dead gorgeous type, in

fact, he was a tad bit on the plump side.

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However, he had a great personality that

made up for his looks. He was always

cracking jokes at one thing or another, and

making others laugh. Irene found him

annoying, but Alex and I liked him well

enough.

Hanging around with them, made me feel

that I was someone that mattered, not just

Theresa Tseng, the little goody-two-shoes.

I was up in the clouds when I hung around

them. People would watch us with envy.

People would grovel at our feet. We were

the world, and the world belonged to us. I

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did not know then that it was all just an

illusion. I did not know then how tired I was

of pretending to be someone I was not.

Only two people ever saw through my act.

One was of course, Kathleen, who had

become only a memory of the past,

watching me from afar. The other one, well,

he just saw through everything at first

glance.

***

It was on a rainy Saturday afternoon that

I met him at a café located in the Crown

Dale Library. It was the only library of its

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kind in the whole of England that dared to

combine library with café. Of course, there

were regulations that all customers were

required to follow, including book

inspections prior to entering and after

leaving the café section of the library. The

Royal Group, in plainer words “Irene’s

Gang”, had hung out there on the few

occasions that the boys needed to study for

their upcoming GCSE’s. But that Saturday,

I could finally come alone and enjoyed the

mysterious atmosphere of the library with

thousands of books piled high in antique

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shelves.

It was a rare weekend in which I could

spend some time alone and sort things out.

Irene was on holiday with her family, Alex

was grounded, Jack was at football practice

and Douglas was running his own errands.

Normally, I would have preferred staying at

home and eat my way through the

mountains of novels waiting to be read on

my bookshelf like the “secret” bookworm

(others would find it too not cool, so I only

ever read at home now) that I was,

however since Alex apparently had nothing

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better do in her life, had taken to calling me

every few hours and so I had to get away

from home. I had deliberately turned off

my mobile phone and left it at home, and

even made sure that my mother knew

exactly, precisely and accurately what to

say if Alex were to call again.

So there I was, sitting on one of the

lavish café armchairs, reading a spy novel

and imagining that I was really inside the

story when a voice interrupted my

thoughts.

“Here you go, sandwiches and a cup of

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hot chocolate.” The waiter gently placed my

food on the table in front of me, a smile on

his face. He was of medium height and

appeared to be about seventeen. He had

dark brown hair that fell casually over soft

hazel eyes. He also seemed really familiar

for some strange reason.

“Thanks.” I nodded curtly at him, before

diving straight back into what I was reading.

To my surprise however, he sat down

opposite me, and took out a book and

begun reading too.

“Excuse me?” I said a little angrily,

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banging my book down on the table. Was

this guy trying to hit on me or something?

Well, whatever he was up to, he was

disturbing the peace of my rare weekend

alone.

“Yes?” he asked, very innocently, not

looking up from his book.

“Do I even know you? Nope! I am sure

that I don’t. So what the hell are you doing

here?”

“I work here.”

“That’s not what I mean!” I said

exasperatedly, glaring at this stranger

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sitting so calmly there. “What I meant

was…Okay, to be blunt, what I meant was:

can you please leave me alone?”

“You can’t act forever,” he suddenly said,

cutting across what I was saying. “You

might be enjoying this right now, and you

might think it’s worth it, but you are going

to get tired of it all one day.”

“What-what-?” I was too angry for words.

First this stranger sat down without an

invitation, and then he started speaking

gibberish? Great! Just what I needed, to be

harassed by a lunatic. “Listen, if you don’t

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get the hell lost right now, I’ll-”

“Ah, I am not making sense, am I?” he

said standing up, unabashed and smiling.

“Well, you might think you’re happy with

your friends right now, but it’s all just

euphoria. Sooner or later, you’ll have to

wake up.”

I stared at him, lost for words.

“Sorry that I scared you,” he said, putting

the book he was reading on top of the table.

“Here’s a book that I highly recommend.

Hope you’ll enjoy it.”

With one last nod at me, he glided away

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behind the bar, leaving me baffled and

annoyed in my seat.

His name was Kevin Whitestone, and the

book he left on the table turned out to be

really good. I met him a few times at the

café after that, and at first I was wary of

him, I mean, who wouldn’t be? He was

such a strange person, was he not? Later

however, when I get to know him better, he

turned out to be one of the most interesting

people I had ever met.

Still, I went home that afternoon feeling

extremely annoyed. I thought over what he

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had said, and decided that it was nothing

but lunacy.

Nonetheless, he turned out to know my

situation better than I ever had. I would

come to understand it much later, when it

was much too late.

Chapter III: Funambulism

Definition: the art of walking along a thin

wire or rope usually at a great height.

The autumn rain caught a cold and

transformed into the cruel winter frost,

snow and sleet. I passed a wonderful

Christmas break with my family. A little

break from all the pretending that I had to

do, a little break to get my breath back.

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50

Soon, the sun finally returned from Puerto

Rico, beckoning the flowery spring to come,

and the last snow flake dissolved into the

gentle spring drizzle. A week of Easter was

spent on munching chocolate eggs and

playing fetch in the garden with Gerry.

Then it was April, and I was already tired

of it all. Now I dreaded leaving the house.

Now I worried about saying or doing the

wrong things, and it was like if I took one

wrong step, then I would be falling into the

abyss far below. It was like walking on a

tightrope, an amateur trying to learn

51

funambulism. That was what it felt like to

be at the top: one wrong move and I would

fall.

Now then, I was not the only one who

had a little secret. Douglas as it happened,

had his own little secret, too. He was

terribly afraid that others would find out

about it, because if they did well, he did not

dare to imagine what would happen if

anyone ever did find out about it.

Unfortunately for him, he just had to mess

with the wrong person.

Maybe it was because of the stress of the

52

upcoming GCSE exams, or maybe it was

because of his family financial problems, he

made the very mistake of snapping at Irene

one day during lunch time. Irene was trying

to bug him into coming to her cousin’s

birthday party and about how she was

going to hook them up, turning a deaf ear

toward his polite refusals. In the end,

Douglas lost it and snapped at Irene,

calling her a…well, politely put, let’s just

say that he told her that she could trace her

ancestry back to the canine species, before

storming away. For a split second, a very

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dark look crossed over Irene’s face, then it

was gone only to be replaced by a teary

look. Everybody else was too busy trying to

cuddle Irene, so I was the only one that

saw it. It sent a chill right down my spine.

Revenge came two weeks later.

Chapter IV: The Art of Falling

“The first cut hurts the worst, but the pain

eventually fades along with everything

else.”

It was on one sunny Thursday afternoon,

Alex and I were chatting near the bike shed

getting ready to ride home when Irene

came skipping toward us, wearing a very

pleased look on her face.

“What’s up? You seem really pleased! Tell 54

55

tell!” I said eagerly, though inwardly I was

rolling my eyes in annoyance. I was sure

that whatever she had to say would be

centered around herself, parties or Jack,

things that I could not care less about.

“I just found out something really

interesting,” she said, smirking. “You guys

know Douglas?”

“Like duh!” Alex and I said in unison. “Of

course we do!”

“Well,” Irene said, lowering her voice to a

mere whisper, “This is what I found out

about him…”

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It turned out that Douglas came from a

single-parent family with great aspirations.

His mother worked hard in order to pay for

his tuition fees into Norwood, hoping that

he would excel in the future. Their financial

burden was high, and so Douglas, in an

attempt to help carry the burden, began a

frenzy of part-time jobs. However, that still

was not enough. Instead, he quit all his

part-time jobs, and now, he was earning

quite a profit by selling illegal drugs. How

Irene found this out remained a great

mystery. She never told us and I never

57

bothered to find out.

“Shocking, isn’t it?” Irene finished,

smiling radiantly at us. “Well, this is what

we are going to do. It’s going to be so much

fun…”

***

It was ten-thirty pm, and I had sneaked

out of bed. I never did want to go along

with Irene’s plan. I had tried reasoning with

them, but it was as if they were both

possessed by some evil spirit. They were

both thrilled by the prospect of possible

danger. I could have made up some excuse

58

and leave. I could have, but I did not. I

guess I must have been possessed, too.

I met up with Irene and Alex outside the

front gate of the Park. The night was darker

than usual with a swirling mass of grey

clouds circling above, and it must have

been a new moon night, too. We made our

way through the deserted path, taking care

not to make any noise. According to Irene’s

information, Douglas would be by the

fountain area; that was where he normally

made his deals.

Irene’s plan was this: we were supposed

59

to steal some of Douglas stash away when

he was not looking, and then later on, when

he least expected it, we would suddenly

appear and scare him. What would happen

after that was that Irene would probably

blackmail him. Irene did not tell us that,

but I guess even an idiot would deduce

what she meant to do. Well, with the

exception of Alex, she was totally clueless

about it.

Soon, we were within range of the

fountain area. From where we were hiding

behind a clump of bushes, we could just

60

make out the silhouette of Douglass

standing near one of the benches around

the fountain. He kept on walking to and fro

in a very tense manner. Irene tapped me

hard on my shoulder, whispering a very fast

order for me to creep around the hedges

that lined the fountain area and get the

dope. I shook my head and decided to stay

put; I was getting cold feet about coming

here, and my mind was already working

furiously on thinking up an excuse that

could get me home.

“Chicken!” Irene sneered at me, shoving

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me roughly aside to tell Alex to do it

instead.

If you’re so brave, then why don’t YOU do

it yourself? I thought angrily to myself,

glaring at the back of Irene’s head as she

muttered excitedly to Alex. Alex was

nodding back, but it was too dark to see her

face to know what she felt about all this.

There was a rustling of leaves, and Alex

was gone. She reappeared some moments

later, face flushed and grinning, holding out

bags of some white powder. Irene beamed

back, giving Alex the thumbs-up. We

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turned to see if Douglas noticed anything.

He had stopped walking now and was

rocking back and forth on his feet, looking

extremely nervous. Irene muttered

something to the both of us, which I did not

catch, and they started shaking with silent

laughter. I was feeling too sick to actually

enjoy the moment. It was late, and it was

wrong to be here!

Suddenly, there was a movement behind

the fountain. A group of people dressed in

trench coats came into view, dodging

around the glow cast by the streetlamps,

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not wanting to be seen. They soon reached

Douglas. They conversed in low voices for a

short moment, before Douglas turned

around to search in his bag for whatever he

was looking for. Irene and Alex snickered. I

remained quiet, a sense of foreboding

tingling my limbs.

“Hurry up!” one of the trench coat people

said impatiently, giving Douglas a shove.

“Where’s the damn thing? Just give it to us

already!”

“It’s-it’s-” Douglas stammered, nearly

ripping apart his bag in search for the

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missing dope. “It’s gone! It’s all gone!”

Simultaneously, both Irene and I turned

to look at Alex.

“Did you take everything out of his bag?”

I asked in a hush tone, my limbs tingling

still.

“Well, yes…wasn’t I supposed to?” Alex

squeaked weakly, showing us the bags

again.

“You idiot!” screamed Irene in a whisper.

“Now, what are we going to do? Those

people don’t look too happy!”

Suddenly there was the sound of

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breaking glass, and shouting. One of the

trench coats had just chucked an empty

beer glass at Douglas. It missed Douglas

just by a mere centimeter, and now he was

blindly running toward us in horror, the

trench coats hot on his heels! Alex

screamed and sprinted away in the

opposite direction, still clutching the bags

of white powder in her hands, ignoring the

protests from Irene to stay put.

“Look! Someone’s there!” shouted one of

trench coats, pointing in our direction.

“Crap!” Irene swore, and she too

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disappeared, leaving me alone in the dark.

This was not good. This was not good at all.

Fortunately however, the gangs had seen

both Irene and Alex running away. A few of

them stayed behind to beat up Douglas

while the others chased after the

disappearing figures of the two girls. I was

safe where I was, at least for a while. What

should I do? I bit down on my knuckles to

help me concentrate. I had to do

something, or else they would all be killed!

“There you are!” said a voice from

somewhere to my right. I jumped in fright,

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my scream muffled by my knuckles. I

turned slowly around, expecting to see one

of the trench coats, but instead, I just saw

Kevin there holding a flashlight, and

also…Kathleen!

“What? What are you-?” I gasped,

staring at them in shock.

“No time to explain, the police are

already here,” Kevin said, helping me up.

“If you don’t want to be regarded as an

accomplice, then we’d better leave,”

Kathleen said, grinning. “You were never

here. My parents are out, and you’re

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sleeping over at my house tonight, isn’t

that right?”

Douglas was sentenced to juvenile prison

for the buying and selling of illegal drugs,

and although both Alex and Irene got away

without any major crime, they were both

suspended from school for a week. Irene,

with her wits and acting skills, had

managed to convince the judge that they

were only bystanders: they did not know

what they were doing and that it was

Douglas that had tricked them into the park.

She did not tell the entire truth, because if

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she did, who would actually believe her?

Who would believe that we could come up

with such a childish scheme?

On the other hand, I came clean. There

was a lot of trouble with my parents when I

got home so late at night and I could not

possibly lie to them. With help from

Kathleen and Kevin, I managed to tell them

the whole story. They were appalled and

absolutely shocked by what had happened

and I was grounded for the remainder of

the term, but otherwise, no one knew I was

there. There was no trace of evidence that I

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was there at all except for Irene and Alex’s

words, and no one believed them. Like

what Kathleen had said, I was never

supposed to be there, so I was never there.

The last puddle of spring drizzle had dried

up and the first wisps of summer could be

felt in the air. When Irene and Alex came

back to school, I was prepared for my

punishment and I was not disappointed. In

their minds, I was the perfect traitor and

they hated me for it. One day after school,

I was cornered at the bike shed and my

school bag was set on fire.

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That was the first cut I had received after

such a long time of being at the top. That

first blow after being immune for so long

was what really hurt the most. Despite that,

I carried on smiling through the rest of the

term. That was because I knew from past

experiences that one day, the pain would

fade along with all that had happened. It

might have seen impossible at the time,

but I believe it would eventually fade.

Plus, I could finally be myself again, and I

had friends that mattered to me.

That would be enough.

Epilogue: After the Rain

When the sun starts smiling, it is as if the

rain had never come at all.

With the KS3 exams over, the summer

vacations finally arrived. I woke up one

morning to find a long summer stretching

out ahead. I breathed a long sigh of relief

and immediately went out for a walk with

Gerry. Under the glorious sunshine, the

nightmares of a few months ago had

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already shied into distant memory.

My parents had already started talking to

me about chanding school, but I still had

not made up my mind. I did not want to

think about all that right now. I was all for a

carefree summer first, and more thinking

and decision making later. I had already

made plans to meet Kevin and Kathleen at

Crown Dale Library later on, to plan on

what we wanted to do this summer, and so

without further ado, I would be leaving you

readers.

Although this might be the end of this

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book, it would never be the end of my story.

Like what the famous poet Robert Frost

said, he could sum up life in just three

words: “it goes on”.

***

Before you readers actually close this

book, I am sure that you must be really

confused about two major points:

1.) Why were Kevin and Kathleen

together?

2.) Why were they even there in the

first place?

The biggest surprise that I had got

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from that eventful night was the fact that

Kevin and Kathleen were actually cousins.

Kathleen had told all her problems to

Kevin, and Kevin, like I had already said,

who was a very interesting person, had

decided to approach me that Saturday.

He had already decided that he was

going to study philosophy in college, and

he thought that he could begin that by

sharing some of his philosophical

wisdoms with troubled souls like me.

So, many thanks to Kevin!

The answer to your second question

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would be that Kathleen had overheard

our plan, or more precisely speaking,

Irene’s plan. She was genuinely shocked,

and though she had tried to phone me

and stop me, she could not get through

as my battery had run dead. She got

Kevin to help her, and together they

witnessed what happened to Douglas in

the park and immediately phoned the

police. Then, they found me, crouching

behind a clump of bushes.

So once again, I want to give more

than a million thank you’s to Kevin and

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Kathleen!

Best Wishes,

Theresa Tseng

References

Where I got the pictures from: http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/uimages/la/atla-032608-tipping.jpg -p.5 http://www.psychologytoday.com/files/u57/breaking-glass.jpg -p. 8 http://206.47.170.43/channels/images/happy-face-istock-456.jpg -p.27 http://www.spiritwatch.org/tightrope.jpg -p.47 http://www.nytimes.com/images/blogs/laughlines/falling.jpg -p.52 http://www.cksinfo.com/clipart/nature/weather/sun/bright-sun-by-rain-cloud.png -70

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Acknowledgement

To Mr. Smith: Thank you for being such a supportive, encouraging, and of course, patient teacher, especially when dealing with my writings! Cheers, Bih-Ning (aka Beans)

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80

“Within the span of a summer, I was promoted from the lowly kitchen maid in the great palace that was Norwood, into one of her majesty’s

ladies-in-waiting.”

Ever since entering Secondary School, Theresa Tseung had always been what you would called an outcaste. It had always been like that, and it would always be, until the day that Theresa decided to break that pattern. But the thing is, is a new life of walking on a tightrope really worth it? Is this really what Theresa want?