Primrose [On Hold]

Chapter 1: You Should Really Learn to Laugh

Bzz.

Bzz.

Bzz.

I groan. Why on earth are my friends texting me in the middle of history class? I mean, not like I have anything to do there, seeing as I've already finished writing my notes. But still. Texting is against the school rules. I should really tell them that at lunch. Not like they'd listen. This is the 23rd time they'd texted me during class and counting, and we aren't even finished with the first month of senior year yet.

Class lets out for lunch. I check my texts and groan again. Jordan and Brett have been given an hour of detention at the end of the day for interrupting their class with unnecessary questions. Typical. I head over to our lunch table. They are already there, so I launch into the short speech I'd been composing in my head throughout the rest of history class. "Why were you guys texting me during history? It's against the school rules, and I checked my texts just now. You shouldn't be bothering the teacher with silly questions like 'Did Qin Shi Huang build the Great Wall of China to keep all humanity out because he was a recluse?' That's completely..."

I'm cut off by Larissa, my closest friend and confidante. "Oh, Rosie, you need to learn to be less uptight. Learn to laugh!" She smiles big and wide, the kind reserved only for me. I must admit, it is a bit flattering.

"Yeah, Rose, you should relax a bit." Brett puts in his two cents. He takes a sip of his chocolate milk carton, then puts it back down. "There's a reason why you've got the nickname 'Primrose'."

"Prim and proper, respectable and ladylike Rose. That's the Rose we know best," says Larissa, putting her arms around me and squeezing. Larissa has always been a hugger. Her glossy, silky waves, which have always reminded me of a buffet's chocolate fountain, brush my cheeks.

"You forgot rule-follower Rose," adds Haruka. Her brown eyes twinkle with a sparkle of humor. "Our little Primrose here loves to color within the lines." She tucks her bleached blonde hair, dipped in a shade of intense pink, behind her ear.

Jordan makes his way over with his unappealing tray of cafeteria food. "Rose, I know you're about to give me one of your famed lectures, but I'll have you know that I will literally tune out the entire time."

I sigh, slightly irritated. "Lucky you, Jordan, you missed out on it earlier."

"Really? Ha, sucks for you, Brett," he says, lightly punching him in the shoulder. "You got the Lecture and I didn't."

"I will gladly give another one if you want," I reply, raising my eyebrows.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Primrose." He sits down. "Big news awaits."

"What now?" asks Brett.

"There's a new kid. Coming next week." Jordan's mom works in the front office, so of course he'd be the first to know this kind of stuff.

Larissa sits up, interested. "Gender?"

"Boy."

Larissa continues to probe. "Name?"

"I don't know."

"Damn. Ethnicity?" We always liked to know the ethnicity of any incoming new kids, just so that we could imagine what they looked like.

"Um, Taiwanese."

"In our grade, I assume?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, coooooool." Larissa resumes eating her chicken caesar salad. 

"Did he just move here?" Haruka inquires.

"Dude, I know stuff, but I'm not a personal database on this one guy. You guys are gonna have to wait till next week to know anything else about this kid."

"Can't wait," I say. Hopefully this kid is at least somewhat decent.

The weekend arrives with promises of iced milk tea in the still-hot September. I spend it studying for Monday's inevitable pop quiz in Mr. Berger's math class with the milk tea to power me along. "Time is the most valuable thing in the world and cannot be bought with money," my very Asian parents had once said.

Asian parent cliches are surprisingly accurate, although exaggerated. My parents say that they don't care about my grades- they only care if I made a real and true effort or not. But when I do make a real and true effort, I usually get A-pluses. So when I received an A-minus in honors math back in sixth grade, I also received a long lecture about making an effort.

I keep studying. Once or twice, my mom pops into the room and says, "Do you need a break?"  I shake my head. Iced milk tea with a sufficient amount of aloe vera provides enough caffeine to keep me up and running.

Monday arrives. I wake up early, study some more while eating my scrambled eggs, and still manage to catch the bus. Larissa is already there, saving me a seat.

"Hi, 'Rissa." I take my seat. It's my day for the window seat. Both of us like the window seat, so we take turns each day sitting in the window seat on the bus.

"Hey, Rosie." Larissa turns to me. "So. New kid."

"Wha- huh? He's coming today? So soon?"

"Yeah, Jordan texted the group chat. Did you not check any of your texts all weekend?"

"Um, no. I was busy studying for Mr. Berger's pop quiz today." I pull out my phone. Sure enough, there's a barrage of texts involving the exact date of when the new kid will show up.

"Oh, damn! I totally forgot about that!" Larissa turns to me. "Help me cram, will you?"

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Lucky for you, since I've known you since forever, you're exempt from a lecture. Here's my notes." I take my notes out of my backpack and hand them to her. 

She pulls out her phone and takes pictures of the pages. "Thanks, Rosie, you're the best!" She gives me a particularly tight hug, leaving me gasping for breath.

We get off the bus and go to our homeroom with Mr. Berger. As expected, there are big, splashy block letters on the whiteboard in red marker that say, "Pop quiz today!" As other students walk in the classroom, they groan at the writing on the board. I'm feeling a bit smug, being one of the only students to have prepared for the test.

Class starts, and Mr. Berger passes out the test, a single-sheet affair consisting of 10 questions. Not too bad.

Time passes. After five minutes, I'm on question 6. 

Suddenly, a knock sounds at the classroom door. Mr. Berger gets up from his desk and opens it.

A boy walks in. He's a little taller than me, and his backpack is slung over one shoulder. His eyes twinkle with something. I can't tell.

Mr. Berger leads him to the front of the classroom. All eyes are now on him. I am alarmed to notice that I find his messy black hair and cream complexion attractive. Like...a guy out of those Chinese dramas that my mom loves to watch.

Then he starts talking. He has a voice that's doesn't sound serious at all. Like every word he says has a punch line. "Hi," he says. "I'm Cameron Tsai." His playful gaze lands on me.

Now I know what his painfully good-looking brown eyes were sparkling with.

Mischief.

"I look forward to meeting you all."

I swear he winks at me.

Rose Wang, I tell myself, you've got a troublemaker on your hands.