Whenever the teacher called Theo's name, I couldn't help but prick up my ears.
Not to mention the other students would start whooping.
Whenever the teacher called on both of us to answer a question at the same time.
The class would go "Ooooh..."
The more they egged it on, the more irritated I got.
I started deliberately keeping my distance from Theo.
I also stopped paying much attention to him.
I didn't know why.
It just felt like I was becoming so strange.
I kept noticing Theo's movements.
I kept catching myself looking over at what he was doing.
Sometimes a terrifying thought would even pop into my head—that he was kind of cute.
The more I thought that, the more I wanted to get close to him.
The more I'd physically push him away.
And so I fell into a contradiction of my body and heart being out of sync.
That day was mental health class.
I got called on again.
The teacher asked me to describe the type of boy I liked.
Maybe it was a deliberate attempt to avoid those feelings.
Maybe it was to deflect my classmates' teasing.
This was how I answered.
"I like boys who are tall, skinny, talkative, good at studying, athletic, and dress in flashy clothes."
Actually, I didn't like that kind of boy.
The face that flashed through my mind in that instant was Theo's.
But every word that came out of my mouth was the exact opposite.
It wasn't until much later that I understood why I'd done such a series of abnormal things.
On a later day.
A rainy night.
I was holding an umbrella, rushing out of the company building.
I suddenly realized.
It turned out the first time I'd hazily realized I liked someone was in middle school.
When you like someone, you instinctively push them away.
So it wasn't until many years later that it suddenly dawned on me.
Those feelings I'd been too timid to admit.
Were the first buds of love.
6
In the first semester of eighth grade.
We had an exam.
The math test was a paper that had been used for a mock exam before.
Even though it had been tested before, unfortunately.
I still got the last question wrong that day.
Out of a 100-point test.
I scored 95.
More unfortunately, our math teacher was the same one who'd called me a "manners-less poor girl" on the first day of school.
Adding insult to injury, she'd hated me from the start of the school year for a whole year now.
That day, all of us who didn't get perfect scores lined up in a long queue.
Being criticized one by one.
When it was my turn.
She directly raised her hand, standing on the podium.
And smacked me across the face from top to bottom, her palm hitting my cheek.
It's hard to say what I was thinking at that moment.
I was genuinely hurt.
It was probably the first time in my dozen-plus years of living that I'd been hit.
I lowered my head and didn't say a word.
Silently walked back to my seat.
The chubby kid hadn't gotten a perfect score either.
But he didn't get hit.
The teacher just glared at him a few times.
Ever since that psychology class incident.
My relationship with Theo seemed to regress back to how we were when we first met.
He zoned out in his own world.
I studied in mine.
The atmosphere between us was always thick with awkwardness.
Theo saw me get hit.
As I was turning back to return to the classroom after being hit.
Our eyes met.
I just glanced at him once, then immediately withdrew my gaze.
I lowered my head and sat down in my seat.
He didn't say anything either.
But uncharacteristically.
For the remaining few minutes.
He was even quieter than usual.
In normal classes you could always hear him rustling around, digging for who-knows-what in his desk.
That day he didn't make a single sound.
The second hand ticked steadily.
I couldn't hear a word the furious teacher at the podium was saying.
I also felt like everything around me belonged to a different world.
The only thing accompanying me.
Was the stinging heat radiating from my forehead down to my cheek.
It was as if she hadn't struck flesh.
But my sensitive, proud heart.
My cheap self-esteem.
And all my pride.
I felt like that moment was utterly excruciating.
As if the remaining few minutes of that math class stretched on for an entire century.
I had never sat through such a long class before.
Two questions echoed in my mind.
And I asked my past self over and over again.
"Why did I get hit?"
"Why did only I get hit?"
These two questions were like a monk's tightening ring.
Wrapping around me again and again.
Driving me into crazy self-doubt.
As if falling into an ice pit, unable to move.
The class bell finally came through the speakers at its leisurely pace.
The next period was PE.
The sounds of excitement rose from the crowd again as they swarmed toward the Sports field.
And I was still sitting in my seat, not saying a word.
I heard the familiar click-clack of high heels fading away.
I still didn't want to get up.
It wasn't so much that I didn't want to.
It was more that I didn't have the courage.
Being hit in front of everyone.
What would others think?
"Oh, so it's her—she acts so tough but she still got slapped."
"Serves her right, she's always so fierce!"
...
I couldn't stop myself from guessing what others thought of me.
Even though I always acted like I didn't care.
But how could I truly not care?
I sat there.
As if my body weighed a thousand pounds.
The brief break time flew by.
If I didn't go down soon, it'd be too late.
I still couldn't stand up.
Couldn't bring myself to take that step.
The classroom had emptied out at some point.
That only made me sink deeper into a strange, anxious panic.
I suddenly felt an endless, boundless loneliness surging toward me like a wave, threatening to swallow me whole.
I looked up at the clock hanging in the center of the classroom.
Three minutes until class started.
Even if I went down now, it was already too late.
I just stared at that clock.
Suddenly a sound came from the doorway.
Like someone pushing the door open.
I turned my head to look.
Theo came in, panting heavily.
His usually pale face was completely flushed red.
As if he'd just done some intense exercise.
His eyes lit up when he saw me.
He seemed to be holding something in his hand.
He jogged over and sat down in his seat.
I was confused about why he wasn't going to PE either.
But I didn't say anything.
Kept my head lowered.
Pretending to read the math book.
The page under my arm had been the same one I'd been staring at since the start of the previous class.
And my thoughts were completely elsewhere.
Not long after.
A chubby hand.
Holding two popsicles, reached out toward me.
"Qian Duolai—one to eat, one to put on your face."
The old ceiling fan overhead spun rapidly.
The cicadas outside the window chirped with extra vigor.
The temperature was unseasonably high.
The ice of deep winter melted into a puddle of snow water under the direct sun.
Seeds from spring burst through the soil, sprouting vibrant green shoots in summer's warmth.
Staring at the popsicle, the words I'd been hiding inside poured out of my mouth on their own.
"Hey... why aren't you at PE?"
"I'm not feeling well today, didn't want to go."
"Oh."
"Mm."
"What about you?"
"I'm not feeling well either."
In the classroom with just the two of us.
I held the popsicle against my swollen and reddened face.
With my other hand, I took small bites of the sweet popsicle.
I had never tasted such a delicious popsicle.
Eating and eating.
I suddenly felt something warm trickle from the corner of my eye.
I hadn't cried when the teacher slapped me.
I hadn't cried when classmates mocked me all those times.
But over a popsicle.
For the first time.
I cried uncontrollably.
For no particular reason.
If I had to find a reason for my tears.
I think...
Maybe it was because I'd never tasted such a sweet popsicle before.