𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ||

ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

""[Name], are you ready? We need to get there in 20 minutes," mom said, her voice laced with urgency.

"I know, mom," I replied, trying to sound composed as I hastily applied makeup to conceal a black eye. I winced as I felt the stinging sensation on my bruised skin and let out a frustrated sigh. Slamming my hands against the bathroom stall, I struggled to hide my anger and pain.

"That Chinese boy just hurt a fucking girl, and if I see him, I'm going to cut his dick," I muttered to myself, the words filled with a mix of rage and vulnerability. It was a moment of raw emotion that I couldn't share with anyone else.

My mother's voice pierced through the silence again, interrupting my inner turmoil. "And [name], I will talk to Ms. Po about your uniform," she stated matter-of-factly.

I stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a large hoodie and a big cap, trying to shield myself from the world. The hoodie provided some comfort, a sense of security as it engulfed me. The cap, however, proved to be a constant source of unease. It was too large, slipping down over my eyes and obstructing my vision. Yet, I kept it on, partly for anonymity, partly to hide the emotions etched on my face.

"What's wrong with the uniform?" I asked, my voice tinged with frustration as I rolled my eyes. "It's a boy's uniform, and you're a girl," I complained loudly, the words echoing my dissatisfaction with the gender norms imposed upon me.

My mother paused for a moment, her eyes filled with concern. "I understand that, [name], but this is a conservative town, and people can be judgmental. I want you to be safe," she explained, her words carrying the weight of a mother's worry.

"But, it's so uncomfortable," I retorted, my voice laced with defiance. "I don't want to conform to their expectations. I want to be myself."

As we walked along the side of the street, the cap still perched on my head, I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. It seemed as if everyone passing by knew my secrets, my struggles. The oversized cap became a symbol of my attempt to hide, to protect myself from the prying eyes and judgments of others.

Meanwhile, my mother's words flowed incessantly, a stream of consciousness that I struggled to fully engage with. Her voice was a mixture of concern, love, and a hint of frustration, all bundled together.

As we approached our destination, a mix of anticipation and anxiety flooded my mind. I pulled the cap further down, attempting to find solace in its shelter. The path ahead seemed daunting, uncertain, but deep down, I knew that I had to face it, with or without the protective layers I wore.

"Mom, like I told you, it's more comfortable than a skirt," I reiterated as we approached the school gate and noticed Mrs. Po, the principal, waiting for us.

"Mrs. Po," my mother greeted, her voice filled with warmth. "Mrs. Parker, we've been waiting for you, and we apologize for being late," Mrs. Po responded politely.

Mrs. Po looked at me, and I offered a timid smile in return. As I glanced inside the school premises, my expression shifted to one of discomfort as I spotted the boy who had attacked me in the park, standing with his friends.

"And this is my daughter, [name]," my mother introduced me to Mrs. Po with a wave. Mrs. Po smiled warmly in response. "We only wear uniforms on uniform days," she informed us kindly, and I felt a surge of embarrassment wash over me.

"Oh, it's my fault. I just wanted to complain that you gave her the wrong uniform because she's a girl," my mother spoke up, trying to defend my choice of attire. I mustered a weak smile, feeling a mix of gratitude and unease at her intervention.

"And no hats are permitted," Mrs. Po added, noticing my cap. My mother quickly snatched the hat from my head, finally taking notice of the makeup on my face.