James Mandarin

Saturday Morning

It's Saturday morning.

The blinds are open and the soft ruffling of my closed curtains, sends waves of sunlight through the blank walls of my bedroom. I turn my head towards the wall and breathe in the stale air. My exam timetable lies on the floor in pieces and the things in my school bag are dumped on my study table. I have some calculus to do for homework. Doing the highest level of maths comes at a price: twenty-five pages of homework.

I lift my knees to my chest and exhale loudly. My arms burn and the back of my neck aches. The warm summer breeze washes over me. I remain indifferent, lost in the vast and warped expanse of my mind.

I can still see "Cut Boy", on my exam timetable. I can still see the bloodied tissues in the toilet and the sweat dripping down my face as I struggled to clean up my mess. I still see the look of hurt in Zen's eyes as I ignored him in the hallway.

The scissors is still in my school bag, red and dull.

I want to feel sad. I want to feel angry and disappointed. I want to chide myself, saying, "Well, nice work James. You just threw two weeks of work down the drain."

But I don't.

Why? Because it would be a lie. The words would be meaningless, just like the words of politicians and teachers. The words would be weightless, like air, stinking of lies and pretence.

Lying to one's self has no purpose. You're still empty on the inside, even though you try to make yourself see the error in your ways.

The doorbell rings. I remain still, not wanting to leave my cocoon. Sometime later, there's a small knock on the door. I barely have time to answer it before it opens. It's Hollie. She is holding a half empty bottle of ice tea. She has a small smile on her face. It's almost a look of pity. I feel my stomach muscles tighten. I don't need anyone's pity. I don't want anyone's pity.

"Hey James," She says as she takes her sit on my study chair. "Your mum said I could come in."

"It's fine."

"You okay?"

I manage to nod. Of course I'm okay.

"I miss seeing you at work."

I shrug my shoulders. "How are the customers going?"

"Same old," she replies. "How's school going?"

"Same old."

She chuckles and takes a small sip from the bottle of ice tea. "I brought you something." She opens her small handbag and brings out a book. I slowly sit up and accept the book from her. It's a book on maths equations and algorithms.

"Thanks, Hollie."

Her cheeks turn pink. "It was the little I could do."

"That's really nice of you." I run my fingers across the smooth pages, looking at the endless sea of mathematical language and words. The pages smell like musk and the dark spaces of a printer.

"James," I look up at Hollie. "Just remember, that I am always here, if you ever need me. Okay?"

"Okay."