Welcome to my life

"And so, If you bring x over here and times the whole equation by 8, you would be able to remove the fractions..."

As the teacher droned on, my back ached and longed to hunch after sitting through Ms. Betty's maths class.
I felt lethargic and had a dire need to splatter my head on the desk to take a much needed rest from the morning filled maths algebra formulaes.

But still sitting up strong, I had my back straight as a ruler and my head up attentive.

I didn't dare take a snooze, no, even though a million ideas of escaping away from the surreal world of maths filled my throbbing head, i didn't dare let my forehead hit the cold plastic desk.

Borned in a family consistent with a whole stretch history of academic acheivers, my parents had always high hopes of me and no less from my albert-einstein-alike two elder brothers and a younger one at home.

"Sarah! What is the answer to question 7a)i?"

I snapped out from illusion and scanned through the question on the book.

Quickly doing mental calculations, I stood up and solemnly answered, " It's 156 degrees because the angles are vertically opposite to one another Mam."

"Good, thank you, you may sit down."

I'm not an acer in maths and my agility in thinking so fast and accurate was probably all thanks to my dedicated and maths-passionate tuition teacher my parents sent me for, Mr. Eio.

  Mr Eio is a funny and humouric man, who always involved sick  jokes with maths. For example, the other lesson he was teaching Maximum and mininum curves on graphs, saying they were like boobs and the curving point, marked with a dot or a cross, was the nipples. Other details, I shall not mention.

On the other hand, he taught me life-value and things that you could not find or learn from regular textbooks. He taught me the positive attitude to life and was like a second father to me.

Oh, how i wished i could spill to him my worries and problems, but i didn't want another person to handle my personal problems or feel sorry for me.
Through his lessons, I worked hard in maths for my glory and his.

I sat down, looked at the book and looked back at Ms. Betty as she continued. But really, I was looking past her and at the clock sitting on the teacher's table, waiting for the lesson to go by.

My dad constantly travelled the world as a business man. You can derive by the name of his occupation that he was indeed, a busy man.
He is heavily influenced by his chinese tradition and thought of boys to be more of a blessing than girls.

Being the only daughter in his nest, It was nerve-wrecking to be the last cared for in the family, other than the maid.

"Hey Sarah, do you have the Literature notes?"

"Ah," I reached into my bulky file and passed it to Kindey, just a girl who sits close by. "here you go."

She salutes and leaves me staring at the front, only realising that maths has ended and it was the end of class. The end of school, Ms. Betty has left ages ago and i was still in class with the cleaning-up comittee.(The lousiest class comittee you'd ever want to get into)

I pick up my bag and straighten my pleated grey skirt and head for the door,

                  "See you guys tomorrow!"
    Ran out, heading for the stairs,
      then?, the school gate,
    next?, the bus-stop,
      after?, the next bus-stop,
    after that? maybe the little garden path which takes me to that excellent-academic-cursed family.
      After,after that? Maybe my deoderant-sprayed fluffy pillow and a good afternoon nap.

Welcome to my life.