1001 Ways to Embarrass Yourself While Avoiding Injuries

Okay so basically I have so much to tell you!! I found out that Ling Ling is a jealous and super-fake girl, and her best friend Ursula is also pretty fake. Ling Ling is so extra but she calls me extra? Like waddafk? It's really weird because whenever someone gives me compliments she's always like, "What? It's just(insert denigrating statement here)." Like today during colour run everyone was complimenting my eyes and Ling Friggin Ling was like, "Oh it's just the sun." Like, BEYOTCH, the sun don't shine on you coz you repel light. Coz you evil!? And apparently, Jane told me that Ursula said that I repel dick?? Well, she's super fake and guess who's not going to help her barely pass her homework anymore? Me. That's who. On the plus side, which was a lot, roomie is back and it is lovely as always to see her and found out that R. the gappie might potentially be Jewish. According to Ursula, I repel dick so she thinks I have terribl...

She fingered the cross around her neck. Quinn Chan, the devout Christian, the most faithful, the good Protestant fundamentalist daughter- she it was who now had no faith. Looking at the bible on her table, she turned her face away and stared at herself in the mirror. Her once long, thick black hair had been cut short, close to her chin. It was now more fashionable, as Mr. Quentin said, her Geography teacher, longer at the back and short at the front. Like a horizontal upward sloping slash. She watched carefully the gap between her two front teeth, her pale almost purplish lips, her mole just above her chin that stuck out slightly. Where was He? She'd sat with Cosima, crying her eyes out. Her sallow hands clutching at darker ones, wringing them again and again. Where was He? Cosima shook her head, I don't know. I don't know. She'd always felt this inescapable sense of people leaving , always leaving her life. Johnny had left, and for months afterwards, she saw ch...

Go home, he said, with a glint in his eye, and a bat in his hand, begging me to disagree so he could take a swing, and by hitting me dissolve all his problems. Go back to your country, he hissed, with the weight of his words hanging in the air like a wall between us and it was painful to think that But for the shape of my eyes and the scars on his hands, we are the same, marked by the same stamps and regulations- We are both, for better or worse, Malaysian and we both sing everyday the pledge to die for king and country and in our own Perverse ways, we mean everything we say, and that is not a lie. Stop, I wanted to whisper but the scent of his hate choked my reply. Step by step, foot in front of another, I said to him, YOU ARE MY BROTHER, This country is as much mine as thine, This land of plenty is too my mother. He faltered, hand wavering, I back up, slow stammering, and we fall slowly to the ground crying for this land of our birth! Forever connec...