Joyce

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The hoarse screech of Ms. Duyên interrupted the chattering voices of the class. Nel raised her eyebrows and yawned loudly before her eyes caught a glimpse of the blackboard. Nel hated class, especially when she had Vietnamese Language and Culture. Not because she had a Singaporean/Vietnamese heritage but because of the one who taught the subject. Ms. Duyên was not a tyrant nor was she an unenthusiastic teacher. She just had a big ego, which caused her to purposely favour certain students while ignoring the rest of Year 5. Unfortunately, Nel was not one of the Vietnamese Language Culture teacher’s favourite pupils.
 * Justice Is Dead **

That morning, Year 5 was having its annual examination. All desks were neatly arranged into rows and textbooks were stacked into two piles at the back of the room. Nel rested her forehead against the rough table. She was in her usual irritable mood when Ms. Duyên’s voice projected across the room.

//“Before starting your papers,”// Ms. Duyên asked, //“How long did Nguyễn Bỉnh Khiêm live? Can you tell me please…Nel?”// Surprised by the question, Nel stood up awkwardly.

//“Errr...it’s,”// Nel’s voice trailed off as all eyes focused on her.

//“Hmm,”// Ms. Duyên hesitated and rolled her eyes, //“Can you help her please, Tuyên?”//

//“He was born in 1491 and died in 1585,”// Tuyên stood up confidently and answered, //“Thus, he lived for 94 years.”//

//“Very good, Tuyên,”// Ms Duyên smiled warmly at her favourite pupil, //“All of you should be more like Tuyên. She is role model of a perfect student. Now you may begin.”//

Tuyên flashed Nel a contemptuous look before both of them sat down and began their papers. Revision did not pay off for Nel. She sat there idly, staring rigidly at the blank paper. Half an hour passed and she had not even started the first question yet.

//“If only this was an examination about Chinese literature,”// she mumbled over and over again.

//“Excuse me,”// the family raspy voice roused her, //“But are you talking over there young lady?”// Nel looked up and saw a familiar figure in her midst. The voice became louder and stronger as Ms. Duyên approached Nel’s desk.

//“Of course not, Miss,”// Nel quickly replied although she was puzzled by the question.

//“Yes she did, Miss,”// Tuyên interrupted the conversation as she flipped her curly black hair, //“I heard her voice.”//

//“But I---,”// Nel’s voice shook her head in astonishment.

//“Silence!”// The teacher exclaimed, //“You talked, didn’t you?”//

//“But I didn’t,”// Nel’s face became more perplexed than ever, //“I really didn’t…”//

There was a moment of silence between them. The same unblinking eyes bore in Nel’s very soul as her words caught the attention of the class.

//“Humph,”// Ms. Duyên said ignorantly, //“My eyes see everything. Nothing can escape them.”//

Nel’s throat went dry as the teacher snatched the exam paper from her hands. Miss Duyên did not look pleased as the odd-looking elastic wrinkles formed on her forehead. The corners of her lips formed a despondent frown before she signaled Nel towards her office. A sudden spasm of shock shook Nel’s body. No one did anything but they all stared at her retreating figure. Hot tears began to fill Nel’s blurry eyes as her hand reached for the doorknob of Ms. Duyên’s office.

Inside it was dimly lit, and hotter than she hoped. Beads of perspiration formed on her face as she staggered into the room. The office was small; a working place with a wooden desk and a folded chair. Pages of literature notes cluttered the worn-out wall while the cadmium curtains blocked most of the light coming from the bar windows. An odd-looking Merlion statue stood firmly on the inner right corner of the desk. The Merlion statue reminded Nel of her days in Singapore. She missed the orderly traffic and her daily ritual to the neighbour’s Chinatown MRT station. She missed the pork oil fried **wu kok** and the infamous **Kikapoo** drink**.** Back in Singapore, she felt united with her international friends but now in Vietnam, she felt unwelcome in the social cliques. Nel concentrated on the little island that held her memories. That was the only way to calm her anger. She could see her family on that island, together with the good old days. Angry footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Nel turned around, face to face with the stern teacher. Ms. Duyên seemed to glow in the light with her bright purple **ao dai.** She sat on the chair and questioned Nel relentlessly. Upon her favourite student’s insistence that Nel was talking during the test, Ms. Duyên was convinced that she had found a cheater in the class.

//“Admit it girl,”// said Ms. Duyên, //“You talked during class right? I saw your mouth moving.”// Her voice was low and even, asking a question that Nel could hardly answer for she did not utter a word during the test.

//“No Miss,”// Nel managed to blurt out, //“Tuyên is lying, Miss.”//

Strands of Ms. Duyên’s loosely tied hair started to hang down her shoulders. Her entire being looked lifeless and icy, yet her eyes remained alert on Nel’s defensive figure.

//“I’ll say it one last time,”// Ms. Duyên emphasized scornfully, //“You cheated during the test, didn’t you?”//

//“No,”// Nel replied firmly as her hands clenched tightly, //“I swear.”//

Attributing Nel’s denial to a rebellious nature, Ms. Duyên forcefully made her kneel in front of the office. Nel was not allowed to stand up until the end of the day.

//“Just because you are half Singaporean doesn’t mean that you can speak rudely to your teachers,”// Ms. Duyên hissed, //“You shall be disciplined young lady.”//

The door slammed shut and Nel was left outside in front of the canteen. As lunchtime approached, the corridor became crowded as students flooded into the canteen. Their eyes soon laid on Nel’s kneeling posture, well aware that she was in trouble. Hunger and thirst gnawed at Nel again, giving her no respite especially in the hot weather. Tuyên walked past her quickly with a sagely innocent look. Nel bit her lips and continued to kneel in embarrassment until the school bell rang.

For the whole week, Nel had to bear this humiliation, which was the worst she had experienced in the past ten years. Although she received positive support from her best friend Thảo, nothing could erase the mortifying shame she had to endure. After all, Thảo did not fully understand Nel’s embarrassment for she was also one of Ms. Duyên’s favourite students. Every day dragged on longer than the last as she became the subject of the student’s gossip. Nel kept thinking of how unfair it was to punish her when she had no intention of cheating. Rumours soon floated about, whispering of how the innocent Nel was in trouble with Ms. Duyên. The thoughts ranged from speculations of Ms. Duyên’s injustice to the “unacceptable” behaviour of Nel at a prestigious Vietnamese primary school.

A few days later Ms. Duyên called for Nel to the same office. The teacher informed Nel that now everybody knew that she was innocent.

//“Thảo and other classmates of yours convinced me that you were talking to yourself,”// Ms. Duyên cleared her voice, //“So you will have a re-test next Monday.”//

//“What about Tuyên?”// Nel asked. A hint of hope filled her mind.

//“She just made a mistake,”// Ms. Duyên assured, //“I’ll let her off. You may leave.”//

Yet no apology was made. Ms. Duyên showed no sign of guilt through her thin spectacles that framed her cat-like eyes as she resumed her marking for the test papers.

//“Justice is dead,”// Nel murmured to herself repeatedly, //“It is really dead.”//

Nel’s eyes widened as she stood up quickly. She opened the office door and a humid breeze forced itself into the room, the exam papers flew all over the place, blowing her thick hair into her face. Nel stormed out of the office in rage, thinking that her teacher and Tuyên deserved the humiliation she once felt. On the way out, Thảo passed her swiftly along the corridor. A sardonic smile replaced Nel’s angered face, as her eyes caught a glimpse of the tube of superglue resting on the latter’s palm. She grabbed the glue from Thảo’s hand and rushed back to the classroom. Her palm was sweaty as the rough texture of the tube rubbed against her thumb. Nel flung the classroom door open and approached the teacher’s desk. The vivid red teacher’s chair stood firmly on the wooden floor. Carefully and cautiously, she squeezed the tube of glue evenly onto the chair. A weird sensation tickled down her spine as the familiar footsteps could be heard in the distance. Nel waited silently for her Vietnamese Language and Culture teacher to sit on the chair before an earsplitting scream shattered the quiet afternoon. Nel smiled.