The first lesson today is English- a subject I particularly like but the loquacious teacher ruins for me.

I doodle a knife on the table as Miss. Woth proudly moves onto the next slide. I swear these teachers put more effort in their powerpoint presentations than their teaching.

"We are going to focus on poetry for this week. Today we will- Jacklynne put your head up please- be starting with challenge writing. So you can write about anything. Make sure to write out the literacy devices we learnt last week and add them in your work. And remember that poems don't always- Jacklynne put your head up when I'm talking."

I look up to see Miss. Woth staring at me expectedly. "Sorry miss," I apologize quickly whiles covering up the doodle with my book as swiftly as I can. The stare lasts a few seconds more before she continues. I stared right back.

"Remember that poems don't always have to rhyme. Everyone, you can begin now."

I look down at the page in slow motion not having a clue what to write about. Clicking the pen, I search my mind for a word I can base my poem on.

"Whoever is doing that stop that please," someone says from the back row.

Hiding the pen under the table, I click it again to please my minor OCD.

I bring it out and see that I have to click it for the ballpoint tip to come out. Covering the top to muffle the sound, I click it one last time and can feel Miss. Woth's gaze on me. As casually as I can, I pretend to write just as she starts to get up from her chair. My panic is relieved when she exits the classroom instead of coming to check my lack of work.

I rest my cheek in my hand and blink repeatedly so that my eyelashes brush my palm. I manage to write down a few lines which I am content with.

When I was three,
I talked to a bee,
Thought it was a he,
But it was a she,
So when I screamed, "Sqeeee!"
Like Michael Jackson, it went, "He hee."

Hours drag by. And somehow I'm able to survive another day of teachers and their failed attempts at jokes. The real funny part is when nobody laughs and the teacher is standing there cackling at themself.

I'm standing at the bus stop early, before the next one in twenty minutes, where it is a dangerous time because everyone is desperate to get on the bus first to get a seat. It is a time when most elderly's fall, people are trampled over (I, in the past, have unfortunately been one of those people), and some mothers with buggies think it is the appropriate time to start swearing in front of their pure children.

The bus arrives and we allow people to push us onto it as they move themselves forward. When I'm on, I spot the girl with braids from the bus this morning. Jiaying and I sit behind her. Jiaying taps her shoulder and waves when she turns around. There's a glint of recognition in her dark brown eyes.

Jiaying offers her hand, "I am a very thankful Jiaying and this is my friend Jacklynne."

The girl shakes her hand as the bus starts moving and introduces herself. "I'm Orabelle."

Suddenly, there's an eruption of laughter from a group of boys standing in the middle. I never saw them come on.

But I do see Jiaying in the corner of my eye sliding down as if that will make her less seen.

What sad hope.

"Oral B? Like the toothpaste? What kind of stupid name is that?" One of them says. There is a glint of silver from the ear of his friend standing beside him when the sunlight comes through.

"Well what kind of stupid face is that?" Orabelle remarks.

"And I never said that either so you'd better turn on your hearing aid." She adds.

"Oral B is what I will call you from now on." The friend with a silver stud says.

"Who said you'll see me again?" I see the reflection of Orabelle moving her gaze and squinting her eyes at him through the glass barrier in front of her.

"It's a small world isn't it?" he backfires not missing a beat.

The spark of irritation is noticeable as Orabelle stands up. But their eye contact remains. After seconds, the intensity becomes uncomfortable and she starts to walk backwards to go to the seats at the back of the bus.

"Yeah unfortunately and that's why I end up meeting people like you," she states before sitting down on a chair facing the back. On the last word the group get off.

Jiaying and I hear a sigh from behind us. "Hey um." The words are from Orabelle. "It's Friday so do you want to hang out? My bus stop is next."

"Yeah, sure," I reply.

We get off the bus with her, walking straight into a rain shower.

"Oof!" I hear Jiaying say.

I look around the area as we walk in silence. We start to head into the direction of a homeless man. As we pass him, his odour ladders up to my nose.

Orabelle holds up her hand signalling Jiaying and I to stop. She swings off her bag, unzips it and reaches into it. She brings out a plastic-wrapped sandwich and inspects it. It looks a little squashed but she goes back and offers the sandwich. The man looks as if he's glaring at it.

"Yeah, it's ham. You a vegetarian or something?" Orabelle remarks.

His voice is like a growl as he speaks, "I don't want your pity."

"Do you see pity in my hand? Take it or regret it." Orabelle moves her hand forward. He accepts it without a thank you or smile but the nod is enough for her.

As we walk on, Jiaying's voice splits the silence. "Was that not a bit harsh?"

''No bird soars too high if it soars with its own wings," she quotes William Blake in response.

Jiaying makes a sound of approval. The silence invites itself again and rests between us for minutes. There's a 'plop' on the ground when a drop of water falls and I look up to see that we're walking under a bridge.

Orabelle speaks, "Whenever I go under a bridge, I imagine myself as a hero. It suddenly starts crumbling and I push someone aside as it begins to fall. I know it's random but-"

"I get it. Like when there's a big puddle, I imagine myself jumping in front of someone if a car splashes through," I interject.

Orabelle starts to chuckle. "Sometimes I imagine the opposite. That one day I suddenly go coco-loco and start a fire in the science lab whiles cackling like a mad pigeon!"

We're laughing hysterically now.

"And sometimes I really wish someone would do that so I could just burn and die!" I shout-but then immediately cover my mouth. The words burst out before I even knew I was going to say them. Perturbed looks sketch onto Jiaying and Orabelle's face.

I am thankful when a male voice breaks through everyone's shock. "Same!"

We all seem to realise that we're in front of a graffiti covered basketball court. Through the gate we see the source of the voice- a boy whose afro curls bounce like the ball he dribbles amazingly fast around his legs. He stops and sits down on the wet floor even though he's in school uniform like us. The rain has stopped now but it's not completely dry yet. The boy takes a gulp of water from a plastic water bottle which was in his blazer pocket.

He suddenly speaks and turns to look at us, his voice deep but calm. "Who are you?"

"I'm perfect, and these two are Jiaying and Jacklynne," Orabelle answers. "Who the Michael Jordan are you?"

He replies with a chuckle. "I'm flattered but I'm no Michael Jordan."

We start to approach him and Jiaying talks. "Okay flattered, so why're you here all alone playing basketball-in the rain?"

He chuckles again. "Had a hard day and basketball helps."

I smile. "Want to talk about it with some strangers?"

"Sure." He shrugs and Jiaying joins him on the floor followed by Orabelle. I hesitate before doing the same thing. Now that we're closer, his light brown eyes-almost amber, looks beautifully shocking against his teak wood coloured skin. He doesn't speak up so Jiaying does.

"Do tell dear," she says in a mocking Queen accent.

He starts. "There's this girl I like. And she's-" he pauses before carrying on. "She's white. And every time I try to talk to her, we get taunts."

"What taunts?" I ask and receive a glare in return. "Oh I guess you were about to say that anyway."

"They always shout, 'oreo couple' because- well you can guess."

We nod, showing we understand.

"Anyway, my name's Zeth." A full smile etches on his face. "I go to a mainly white school. And there I'm called charcoal face because I am black."

"I'm called dog-eater because I'm Chinese," Jiaying adds.

"I'm called Jacklynne because it's my name."

Our laughter overrides the hushing wind.

*******

Did anyone notice the reference to the Joker's real name from the first chapter? Jack Napier... Jackie Napier huh?

A day without laughter is a day wasted. - Charlie Chaplin