My life with the landlady and her family was short-lived, though there were ups and downs while it lasted. Some of the incidents I remember were:
There is a gap in my memory of what happened later on (not sure why), but what I do remember was that the maid was no longer with us and I was moving in to another place when I was roughly around Primary 5 that was sort of sponsored by my mom's friend who became partners with her in starting a tuition school/nursery daycare. I sincerely don’t know why I totally do not remember the moving. I just found myself living in it, and that was it. We had a new maid, and we had a room all to ourselves upstairs while the rest of the house was hustle and bustle everyday with kids and teens coming in for tuition and toddlers to be baby-sat. I did my fair share of baby-sitting, playing with the kids and stuff, and made friends with some of the kids and teens while I join them at the table doing my homework. I even have friends who went to the same primary school as I did and did tuition at our place, one of them being an Indian-born Chinese named Kimberly. The most prominent feature I remember about her was that despite her speaking very fluent Chinese, she was very dark and looked more like an Indian with a hint of Asian blood in her features.
Ever since I came back from Taiwan, I was subjected by force by my mom to write a daily journal in Chinese for her inspection. I thought it was bloody ridiculous, really, because a journal is where you write things, private things, based on your thoughts or how your day was that sometimes is best left not known by other parties. Having someone read your journals is not exactly very private anymore, but she claims that by doing so, I will maintain my level of Chinese and not waste all the effort that I have learnt for half a year in Taiwan. I know she meant well, but writing down your private thoughts to your mother at that time was just plain stupid. To make matters worse, if I don't write it or forget to write it even for a day, she will beat me black and blue. So I had to be careful in what I write, and create fantastical stories that I made up or that I read somewhere to illustrate my day but not going to overboard to the point of illogic in a day-to-day life.
Moving into this new place was no different than my last few lifestyles because again, my mom would sometimes disappear on ends, claiming that she has gone outstation and stuff, leaving me to be raised by the maid and the "family" downstairs during tuition and daycare. My mom's partner, Mrs. Tan, was a fussy, grumpy woman when it comes to the students, but rather nice to me, in fact even invited me to her house before to make friends with her daughters who also came to tuition to do their homework. They all never knew what goes on behind the scenes when I'm privately with my mom (like I said, she sees face-value above all else) and I never really told them, not after being betrayed of trust of confidence. Only those students who were close to me, including Kimberley who knew bits and pieces of my secrets that I am willing to tell, but being the kids we were, they couldn't do anything to help me, and I couldn't ask.
The behind-the-scenes private moments with my mom were definitely not a pretty sight to see. She would scream and yell at every little mistake I made and most of the time would not hear my side of the story. Lashing out due to my not regularly writing my journal and also the black and blue I receive over the lack of the child support on behalf of my dad's incompetence was inevitable. There was one time where I clearly remember bringing home my PE uniform, but don’t know how it got lost into the laundry until it just went mysteriously missing and no matter how I look, I couldn't find it. My mom got so pissed just for the sake of one missing PE uniform that she was screaming down the house, demanding that I admit I was the one who lost it, when I insist I didn't. I swear to God I remember bringing it back home, but she just wouldn't believe me, accusing me of being a goddamn liar like my dad. She accidentally slipped off her chair and landed on her ass while scolding me, and out of frustration and embarrassment, she took it out on me, slapping me again and again, as if it was my fault she fell down. As usual, it was all because the face-value. Because I witnessed her downfall, her face-value dropped and she despised people seeing her vulnerable, and needed to take out on someone, i.e. me.
One incident later on during that time frame that really bites the dust was the time I had my BCG shot. She was scolding me about something trivial while having my breakfast and waiting for the bus, and out of anger, she totally forgot that I had my BCG shot and slapped my arm where the shot was. It was swollen and in the process of healing when she hit it, causing it to burst and bleed all over my sleeve. I took the beating quietly, but it was the blood that snapped her out of her reverie and revert her back to that "loving mother" as she tend to the wound. She told me not to tell a soul and made me promise that I would cover for her, in which I agreed reluctantly, because I know there was no one I can trust with the truth. I did tell Kimberly and my other closer friends, however, when we were riding the bus, and I was so upset that I was in tears and swore that I would not go home. They tried to calm me down and comfort me, taking in some sympathy pains, but that's about all they could give me. Of course, being that the bleeding hearts of the world united in me, I forgave my mom and covered her ass for her, telling others that I hit the wall or something and came home promptly when the bus came to pick us, like the little dog I was, although I was tempted not to go on the bus for a moment there. My mom said sorry and helped me fixed my wound again when I came home, although I'm not sure whether she was sincere or not, because a day later, she went back to her usual self and I had to nurse the BCG wound on my own.
Well, at least one good thing came out of it: I don't have a bulge like everyone else does when their BCG shots healed. It was just one flat scar.
I think probably the only thing she did as a real mother should was when she tried to explain the birds and the bees to me. Well, not in a graphic sort of manner (since I more or less read a little about it in books), but she did get me prepared for the day I will have my first period and told me stuff about being careful with men and stuff and what to avoid to protect my chastity and keep from getting knocked up. I'll give her that much.
I always look forward to her going outstation because then I can have all the freedom I want, to do whatever I want and not care of the consequences. Of course, I have to remember updating the journal, but other than that, I would be all on my own, not having to worry about being demonized everyday and suffer it without anyone to help me. She usually goes outstation for maybe two or three days, doing god knows what, but there was one incident where she actually was away for an entire month during the one-month long school holidays. She never told me why or where she had gone outstation or anything, and I never asked. Not that I was complaining, but it did strike me as odd later on as to what exactly was she doing being away for so long. Did she go off with her boyfriend? Did she make a new one? Is she really even on a business trip? Or did she go off to Taiwan on her own lonesome without bringing me along? Till now I never knew the truth of why she went off that long and left me alone with the maid.
I remember during that one-month long freedom, there were very little tuition or daycare because of the hols, and I had the whole house to myself with no one to tell me what to do and fucking monitoring me like a freaking security camera. Usually the maid is not allowed to be in the room unless to put away the laundry or clean my room, but for that whole month, she has free access to watch TV with me provided she does her chores (although I am still bloody curious till now how was she able to keep up with the food supply for a whole month). I was forbidden to tell my dad where I live at that time period (he will pick me up from tuition on Saturdays, then my mom comes to pick me on Sunday nights to bring me home), so for that whole month, I never went to visit my dad. But it was OK. I was able to entertain myself. The most memorable time I had entertaining myself was that one video tape (during the time when VHS still exists), the ONLY video tape I had, which was Disney's Beauty & the Beast, and it became a religious routine for me to play it every night before I go to bed and every morning when I wake up, and it got to the point where I decided to immerse into either the role of Belle or the Beast (for the Beast, I always draped a shower towel to use as the Beast's cape), acting out their scenes and literally memorized every single line. So for that one month, I knew every line, every expression, every body movement and language, and every word. Besides drawing, reading comics, writing the journal and chasing after TV series (X-Files every Wednesday night), Beauty and the Beast was the other thing that kept me entertained, and probably got me interested in acting.
My mom once hit me black and blue when I forgot to find out the date of my UPSR exam. I know it is one of those big exams that determines which high school you would end up in, but I was just a kid. I was 12 years old, for crying out loud. You can't expect me to remember everything! She even said that I was getting too tall for her liking and she worried if I would ever fit any clothes if I grow any taller. I'm a human being, not a dolly you can play dress up with. Although it was probably her fault that I soon stopped growing at that age and had never grown any taller since. Thanks a lot, Mom.
That year was also the year I let go of what could possibly be a turning point in my artistic career. To pay homage to the X-Files I love so much and also after being inspired when I won 2nd place in a story-writing competition, I decided to start a novel series with me as the main character and some of my close friends alongside with me as "The Investigators of the Paranormal" where the title says all. I had help with a bit of reference from Famous Five to get my language correct, and I wrote as well as a 12-year-old could. One of my friends who was featured in my book said she would like to borrow it to read, so I did, and a few weeks later, she called me at my dad's place to ask if I was willing to give her dad the rights to publish my book. I know she is born and bred from a rich family that can afford anything, and that her dad probably could afford to pay the publishing fees. It was a very tempting offer, and it would've actually boosted my writing career, if only there wasn't a catch.
Because I am underaged, I must have consent from both parents.
I know my dad would support me no matter what (if he didn't, I could always bully him to agree, LOL), so I was sure my dad's side was no problem. But the problem would be my mom. She was already quite against me doing my drawings because, according to her, "I don't draw anything worthwhile or real", forcing me to do my drawings in private. If she were to find out that I have been writing what she calls "rubbish", and during school time, no less, I will never hear the end of it, and it was a no brainer that she would NEVER agree to sign the consent. So, despite that very tempting offer that would've changed my life, I declined.
I've always had a passion for music as well aside from drawing and writing. When I listen to Vanessa Williams’ version of the Pocahontas soundtrack "Colours of the Wind" nowadays, it feels rather nostalgic and brings me back to the day that determined my singing talent. I was Primary 6 at that time and our school was having some sort of an English Week Program with tons of events lined up to promote the English language, one of them being a singing contest. I was not interested in joining after I was reminded by a setback back in first grade when I tried to join the singing contest and my mother had strongly objected against it, telling me that it's a waste of my time and I should be studying instead. At least they've already chosen a class rep for this, so I don't feel that bad for not entering.
So there I was minding my own business coming into class that morning when suddenly our class monitor jumped to me and asked me if I knew the song of Pocahontas 'Colours of the Wind'. I didn't think it mattered so I said yes, and was shocked to find out that the class monitor decided at the last minute to representing the class for the singing contest. Apparently, their rep suddenly had cold feet and did not want to join no matter how they begged, bribed and dragged her to the school hall. The contest would start any moment and they were desperate, and since they said I had an agreeable voice, they opted me to be the next best thing to a class rep for the contest.
I was both thrilled and nervous at the same time. I finally get to enter the contest but what would my mother think of it? She would never believe that I was called in the last minute. She would think I've been planning this all along and used that last minute excuse to get out of it. I would definitely get a beating. So I tried to worm my way out of it, saying that I wasn’t ready or that I was too fat to fit into the class rep’s costume, but it seemed that fate decided to give my friend the insight when I don’t need it the most and said I could just go up with my glasses off (I wore glasses back then) and draped her canvas jacket on me to cover the pinafore and the school badge.
No matter what, I couldn't worm my way out of it. Our class has always been more or less the black sheep of the school and it was the class monitor's job to remove that bad reputation. At least I was the last to perform, so I didn't have to worry about not being able to get ready. They were lucky I have the soundtrack and listen to it like almost every day and memorized the lyrics by heart or else I wouldn't have agreed at all!
Someone else sang the same song as well before me. She looked as if she was born for the stage. She was dressed for the occasion, with make-up and all, and it's no surprise she must've practiced at home a lot AND her mother was there to cheer her on. The way she sang was pretty good actually, but it seems like her style of singing was following Pocahontas style with a touch of her own. Many people clapped and cheered (including her mother) for her after she was done. I was breaking in cold sweat at the backstage wondering if I could sing as good as her.
When it's finally my turn, I decided to just sing and get it over and done with. I went up stage and somehow as I began to sing, I began to lose myself into it. I was nervous at first when I felt dozens of eyes looking up at me and the judges scrutinizing me, but as I went along, they don't really seem to matter. I realized that unlike the previous contestant who had practiced probably weeks before this contest and singing with her own flair, I sang almost 100% Vanessa Williams style, with the highs and lows and the tremble in the voice like Vanessa Williams did whenever she sang, and a little last-minute go-with-the-flow body language to match. I don’t know, I must've been dreaming when I was singing that I didn't even know myself probably.
After that, when everything is finally over, we've got the results. Shockingly, I actually won! Me against someone singing the same song who probably had more learning experience and I won! Shocking, isn't it? I went home and told the good news to my mother, who of course looked at me with skeptical eyes about me saying that I joined it at the last minute by desperate people and was about to take me away for “private time”, but when Mrs. Tan and her students heard of it and praised me and my mom, my mom, who treasure face-value above all others, decided to accept my reason of joining and gloat about my success. Typical mom, but at least I got away from a possible scolding and beating.
Anyway, when I was near to the end of Primary 6, we moved again because apparently, my mom still thought it was not enough privacy and that there was a bit of a small rift in the business relationship between her and her partner. The maid was not coming with us, possible reason was that the maid could belong to my mom's partner. So, just like that, we moved.
- I indirectly killed their dog because I took pity on her always chained at the pole, so I let her loose to allow her to run around at the streets, thinking she would be like other dogs, returning to the master once they had their fun, but I forgot that our housing estate led to the big road outside and minutes after I let her go, she was run over and became roadkill
- My mom made Adeline and Alvin let go of the pup Snowy because she was getting skin problems that they couldn't afford to heal. She drove us down to some random school and we just dropped the poor pup in a nearby bush. Poor thing. She was so confused when I looked back to see her, and that was the last time I ever saw the pup. I hated my mom even more for that
- Soon after, the family received two puppies, a male and a female, courtesy of the father, in which we thought safer if we put it in the backyard. Alvin and I named them Simba and Nala, because we were both fans of The Lion King
- We actually witnessed the beginning till the end of the construction of a church nearby our housing estate, and we sometimes use the grounds to play with
- I learnt the danger of smoking when we found the father's cigarette lying around, which me and Alvin lit and tried it. I didn't know it was one of the strong kind, and once I sucked it in my lungs, it burnt and I swore off cigarettes since then
There is a gap in my memory of what happened later on (not sure why), but what I do remember was that the maid was no longer with us and I was moving in to another place when I was roughly around Primary 5 that was sort of sponsored by my mom's friend who became partners with her in starting a tuition school/nursery daycare. I sincerely don’t know why I totally do not remember the moving. I just found myself living in it, and that was it. We had a new maid, and we had a room all to ourselves upstairs while the rest of the house was hustle and bustle everyday with kids and teens coming in for tuition and toddlers to be baby-sat. I did my fair share of baby-sitting, playing with the kids and stuff, and made friends with some of the kids and teens while I join them at the table doing my homework. I even have friends who went to the same primary school as I did and did tuition at our place, one of them being an Indian-born Chinese named Kimberly. The most prominent feature I remember about her was that despite her speaking very fluent Chinese, she was very dark and looked more like an Indian with a hint of Asian blood in her features.
Ever since I came back from Taiwan, I was subjected by force by my mom to write a daily journal in Chinese for her inspection. I thought it was bloody ridiculous, really, because a journal is where you write things, private things, based on your thoughts or how your day was that sometimes is best left not known by other parties. Having someone read your journals is not exactly very private anymore, but she claims that by doing so, I will maintain my level of Chinese and not waste all the effort that I have learnt for half a year in Taiwan. I know she meant well, but writing down your private thoughts to your mother at that time was just plain stupid. To make matters worse, if I don't write it or forget to write it even for a day, she will beat me black and blue. So I had to be careful in what I write, and create fantastical stories that I made up or that I read somewhere to illustrate my day but not going to overboard to the point of illogic in a day-to-day life.
Moving into this new place was no different than my last few lifestyles because again, my mom would sometimes disappear on ends, claiming that she has gone outstation and stuff, leaving me to be raised by the maid and the "family" downstairs during tuition and daycare. My mom's partner, Mrs. Tan, was a fussy, grumpy woman when it comes to the students, but rather nice to me, in fact even invited me to her house before to make friends with her daughters who also came to tuition to do their homework. They all never knew what goes on behind the scenes when I'm privately with my mom (like I said, she sees face-value above all else) and I never really told them, not after being betrayed of trust of confidence. Only those students who were close to me, including Kimberley who knew bits and pieces of my secrets that I am willing to tell, but being the kids we were, they couldn't do anything to help me, and I couldn't ask.
The behind-the-scenes private moments with my mom were definitely not a pretty sight to see. She would scream and yell at every little mistake I made and most of the time would not hear my side of the story. Lashing out due to my not regularly writing my journal and also the black and blue I receive over the lack of the child support on behalf of my dad's incompetence was inevitable. There was one time where I clearly remember bringing home my PE uniform, but don’t know how it got lost into the laundry until it just went mysteriously missing and no matter how I look, I couldn't find it. My mom got so pissed just for the sake of one missing PE uniform that she was screaming down the house, demanding that I admit I was the one who lost it, when I insist I didn't. I swear to God I remember bringing it back home, but she just wouldn't believe me, accusing me of being a goddamn liar like my dad. She accidentally slipped off her chair and landed on her ass while scolding me, and out of frustration and embarrassment, she took it out on me, slapping me again and again, as if it was my fault she fell down. As usual, it was all because the face-value. Because I witnessed her downfall, her face-value dropped and she despised people seeing her vulnerable, and needed to take out on someone, i.e. me.
One incident later on during that time frame that really bites the dust was the time I had my BCG shot. She was scolding me about something trivial while having my breakfast and waiting for the bus, and out of anger, she totally forgot that I had my BCG shot and slapped my arm where the shot was. It was swollen and in the process of healing when she hit it, causing it to burst and bleed all over my sleeve. I took the beating quietly, but it was the blood that snapped her out of her reverie and revert her back to that "loving mother" as she tend to the wound. She told me not to tell a soul and made me promise that I would cover for her, in which I agreed reluctantly, because I know there was no one I can trust with the truth. I did tell Kimberly and my other closer friends, however, when we were riding the bus, and I was so upset that I was in tears and swore that I would not go home. They tried to calm me down and comfort me, taking in some sympathy pains, but that's about all they could give me. Of course, being that the bleeding hearts of the world united in me, I forgave my mom and covered her ass for her, telling others that I hit the wall or something and came home promptly when the bus came to pick us, like the little dog I was, although I was tempted not to go on the bus for a moment there. My mom said sorry and helped me fixed my wound again when I came home, although I'm not sure whether she was sincere or not, because a day later, she went back to her usual self and I had to nurse the BCG wound on my own.
Well, at least one good thing came out of it: I don't have a bulge like everyone else does when their BCG shots healed. It was just one flat scar.
I think probably the only thing she did as a real mother should was when she tried to explain the birds and the bees to me. Well, not in a graphic sort of manner (since I more or less read a little about it in books), but she did get me prepared for the day I will have my first period and told me stuff about being careful with men and stuff and what to avoid to protect my chastity and keep from getting knocked up. I'll give her that much.
I always look forward to her going outstation because then I can have all the freedom I want, to do whatever I want and not care of the consequences. Of course, I have to remember updating the journal, but other than that, I would be all on my own, not having to worry about being demonized everyday and suffer it without anyone to help me. She usually goes outstation for maybe two or three days, doing god knows what, but there was one incident where she actually was away for an entire month during the one-month long school holidays. She never told me why or where she had gone outstation or anything, and I never asked. Not that I was complaining, but it did strike me as odd later on as to what exactly was she doing being away for so long. Did she go off with her boyfriend? Did she make a new one? Is she really even on a business trip? Or did she go off to Taiwan on her own lonesome without bringing me along? Till now I never knew the truth of why she went off that long and left me alone with the maid.
I remember during that one-month long freedom, there were very little tuition or daycare because of the hols, and I had the whole house to myself with no one to tell me what to do and fucking monitoring me like a freaking security camera. Usually the maid is not allowed to be in the room unless to put away the laundry or clean my room, but for that whole month, she has free access to watch TV with me provided she does her chores (although I am still bloody curious till now how was she able to keep up with the food supply for a whole month). I was forbidden to tell my dad where I live at that time period (he will pick me up from tuition on Saturdays, then my mom comes to pick me on Sunday nights to bring me home), so for that whole month, I never went to visit my dad. But it was OK. I was able to entertain myself. The most memorable time I had entertaining myself was that one video tape (during the time when VHS still exists), the ONLY video tape I had, which was Disney's Beauty & the Beast, and it became a religious routine for me to play it every night before I go to bed and every morning when I wake up, and it got to the point where I decided to immerse into either the role of Belle or the Beast (for the Beast, I always draped a shower towel to use as the Beast's cape), acting out their scenes and literally memorized every single line. So for that one month, I knew every line, every expression, every body movement and language, and every word. Besides drawing, reading comics, writing the journal and chasing after TV series (X-Files every Wednesday night), Beauty and the Beast was the other thing that kept me entertained, and probably got me interested in acting.
My mom once hit me black and blue when I forgot to find out the date of my UPSR exam. I know it is one of those big exams that determines which high school you would end up in, but I was just a kid. I was 12 years old, for crying out loud. You can't expect me to remember everything! She even said that I was getting too tall for her liking and she worried if I would ever fit any clothes if I grow any taller. I'm a human being, not a dolly you can play dress up with. Although it was probably her fault that I soon stopped growing at that age and had never grown any taller since. Thanks a lot, Mom.
That year was also the year I let go of what could possibly be a turning point in my artistic career. To pay homage to the X-Files I love so much and also after being inspired when I won 2nd place in a story-writing competition, I decided to start a novel series with me as the main character and some of my close friends alongside with me as "The Investigators of the Paranormal" where the title says all. I had help with a bit of reference from Famous Five to get my language correct, and I wrote as well as a 12-year-old could. One of my friends who was featured in my book said she would like to borrow it to read, so I did, and a few weeks later, she called me at my dad's place to ask if I was willing to give her dad the rights to publish my book. I know she is born and bred from a rich family that can afford anything, and that her dad probably could afford to pay the publishing fees. It was a very tempting offer, and it would've actually boosted my writing career, if only there wasn't a catch.
Because I am underaged, I must have consent from both parents.
I know my dad would support me no matter what (if he didn't, I could always bully him to agree, LOL), so I was sure my dad's side was no problem. But the problem would be my mom. She was already quite against me doing my drawings because, according to her, "I don't draw anything worthwhile or real", forcing me to do my drawings in private. If she were to find out that I have been writing what she calls "rubbish", and during school time, no less, I will never hear the end of it, and it was a no brainer that she would NEVER agree to sign the consent. So, despite that very tempting offer that would've changed my life, I declined.
I've always had a passion for music as well aside from drawing and writing. When I listen to Vanessa Williams’ version of the Pocahontas soundtrack "Colours of the Wind" nowadays, it feels rather nostalgic and brings me back to the day that determined my singing talent. I was Primary 6 at that time and our school was having some sort of an English Week Program with tons of events lined up to promote the English language, one of them being a singing contest. I was not interested in joining after I was reminded by a setback back in first grade when I tried to join the singing contest and my mother had strongly objected against it, telling me that it's a waste of my time and I should be studying instead. At least they've already chosen a class rep for this, so I don't feel that bad for not entering.
So there I was minding my own business coming into class that morning when suddenly our class monitor jumped to me and asked me if I knew the song of Pocahontas 'Colours of the Wind'. I didn't think it mattered so I said yes, and was shocked to find out that the class monitor decided at the last minute to representing the class for the singing contest. Apparently, their rep suddenly had cold feet and did not want to join no matter how they begged, bribed and dragged her to the school hall. The contest would start any moment and they were desperate, and since they said I had an agreeable voice, they opted me to be the next best thing to a class rep for the contest.
I was both thrilled and nervous at the same time. I finally get to enter the contest but what would my mother think of it? She would never believe that I was called in the last minute. She would think I've been planning this all along and used that last minute excuse to get out of it. I would definitely get a beating. So I tried to worm my way out of it, saying that I wasn’t ready or that I was too fat to fit into the class rep’s costume, but it seemed that fate decided to give my friend the insight when I don’t need it the most and said I could just go up with my glasses off (I wore glasses back then) and draped her canvas jacket on me to cover the pinafore and the school badge.
No matter what, I couldn't worm my way out of it. Our class has always been more or less the black sheep of the school and it was the class monitor's job to remove that bad reputation. At least I was the last to perform, so I didn't have to worry about not being able to get ready. They were lucky I have the soundtrack and listen to it like almost every day and memorized the lyrics by heart or else I wouldn't have agreed at all!
Someone else sang the same song as well before me. She looked as if she was born for the stage. She was dressed for the occasion, with make-up and all, and it's no surprise she must've practiced at home a lot AND her mother was there to cheer her on. The way she sang was pretty good actually, but it seems like her style of singing was following Pocahontas style with a touch of her own. Many people clapped and cheered (including her mother) for her after she was done. I was breaking in cold sweat at the backstage wondering if I could sing as good as her.
When it's finally my turn, I decided to just sing and get it over and done with. I went up stage and somehow as I began to sing, I began to lose myself into it. I was nervous at first when I felt dozens of eyes looking up at me and the judges scrutinizing me, but as I went along, they don't really seem to matter. I realized that unlike the previous contestant who had practiced probably weeks before this contest and singing with her own flair, I sang almost 100% Vanessa Williams style, with the highs and lows and the tremble in the voice like Vanessa Williams did whenever she sang, and a little last-minute go-with-the-flow body language to match. I don’t know, I must've been dreaming when I was singing that I didn't even know myself probably.
After that, when everything is finally over, we've got the results. Shockingly, I actually won! Me against someone singing the same song who probably had more learning experience and I won! Shocking, isn't it? I went home and told the good news to my mother, who of course looked at me with skeptical eyes about me saying that I joined it at the last minute by desperate people and was about to take me away for “private time”, but when Mrs. Tan and her students heard of it and praised me and my mom, my mom, who treasure face-value above all others, decided to accept my reason of joining and gloat about my success. Typical mom, but at least I got away from a possible scolding and beating.
Anyway, when I was near to the end of Primary 6, we moved again because apparently, my mom still thought it was not enough privacy and that there was a bit of a small rift in the business relationship between her and her partner. The maid was not coming with us, possible reason was that the maid could belong to my mom's partner. So, just like that, we moved.
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