A Mysterious Life in Senior High School : Part 1

My First Year in Senior High School

Starting senior high school was exciting. Everything felt fresh—new friends, new people, and a new environment. I loved math the most, but I was confused and disappointed when I didn’t get high grades in my first year. Later, in the following years, I consistently scored the maximum in math, which made me proud. I often wondered why I struggled with math scores in my first year.

Summer Job at the Paper Factory

During the summer, I needed to find work to pay for food and dental care. Somehow, I ended up at a paper factory, though I’m not sure how. At first, when I asked if they had any jobs, they said no. Fortunately, someone helped me get hired.

At the factory, I learned to count 1,000 sheets of paper by hand in just 20 seconds. I met many kind people, including foreigners from Burma and Vietnam who couldn’t speak Thai or English. I communicated with them using hand gestures, and everyone was friendly. Sometimes, I worked overtime until midnight to earn extra money.

A Shocking Incident

One day, a coworker asked if I needed a ride to the entrance of a side street. I said yes, and he kindly took me there on his motorcycle. Tragically, I later learned he was killed by someone with a knife. The reason was shocking: he had slapped someone on the head. He had a pregnant wife at the time, and I felt heartbroken for his unborn child. I never found out how things turned out for his family, and it left me feeling sad.

Popularity and a Special Connection

In my first year of high school, I was surprisingly popular with girls, though not excessively, and I had a secret crush on a particular girl.

But there was one girl, a third-year junior high school student, who often stayed with me in the library during the evenings. I spent a lot of time there because I didn’t want to go home, as it reminded me of problems from my junior high school days.

I liked this girl, but I felt burdened, like I was carrying the weight of the world. I didn’t think I was good enough for anyone, so I never told her how I felt. I had an MP3 player, bought with my summer job earnings, filled with classical and piano music. She enjoyed listening to my music with me, which made me happy.

Since we were both Chinese, I felt a connection with her, and sometimes, I thought I was falling in love.

However, a teacher at the library—the same teacher who gave me my math scores in my first year—noticed us spending time together.

I think the teacher said something to her, and after that, she distanced herself from me. I wasn’t too sad, as I believed it was better for her. I felt too poor and unworthy to be with anyone.