That time I got rejected three times on the same day!

Chapter 13

Everything in my life followed a routine. I didn't like surprises and unscheduled appointments or situations. Morning break was about the same length as the lunch break in my old school. I think the whole point of the 'lunch break' was to give kids the opportunity to self-study, but most of them didn't get that. My morning break routine was exactly planned by the minute. I had five minutes to leave class, settle down, and start eating my lunch. Mr.Devlin had wasted my time and I was already behind schedule. The digital readout on my wristwatch read 10:32, and I hadn't even started eating. Usually I would give myself 10 minutes to eat and 5 minutes to travel to the water fountain. With my sustenance and hydration sorted, I had another 10 minutes to go the toilet and return to class. Any deviation from this plan was unacceptable.

When I first arrived at school the other kids wanted to talk to my while eating lunch, which I thought was really rude. Eating and talking were mutually exclusive; you couldn't use your mouth to do both at the same time. My mother carved this idea into my head with 'Keep your mouth shut while eating' and 'Children should be seen and not heard at the table'. This was proper etiquette, and this was how I was brought up. I didn't know where Australian kids picked up their manners, but noises while eating also annoyed me. Eating noisily, squelching, slurping, and burping, were unacceptable. I tried to educate the other kids in proper etiquette, but they weren't interested. That was also fine with me, if nobody could follow these rules, then I would eat alone.

I didn't have a lot of friends; in fact, the only people who showed an interest in me were bullies. I didn't mind not having friends, well, I did, but that is what I told myself. I think the cultural barrier was my biggest issue. We had standards, norms, and rules, in my country of birth. Everyone knew how to behave appropriately in any given situation. What the Australian kids wanted as to abandon my own culture and assimilate into theirs. I didn't like this at all. I didn't want to talk with slurred 'A', as in 'Oaastraaliaan', and call everyone 'mate', mate was an animal's sexual partner, not a friend. I didn't really care for Australian history and the political system was a kindergarten. I had once accidentally stumbled onto what they called 'Question time' in the Australian parliament on

the TV; I think they should rename it to 'Call each other names time'. My sister had taken to Australian culture much better than me. She had lots of friends and even took their mannerisms and expressions home with her. This annoyed me. Not that she was doing what I could not, but that the behaviour I despised was now in my own home. She was still young and impressionable, that was probably the reason.

I finished the sandwiches Mother had packed for me and went to rinse out my lunchbox. The other kids didn't use the water fountains for some reason. They always bought bottled water or purchased soft drink from the only two vending machines on the school premises. Buying water was a strange concept to me. Water was water in my opinion. I had read an article that said that many bottled water companies used false advertising and that their water wasn't really from 'an alpine spring' or 'the deepest jungles of Estonia'. I knew for a fact that Estonia was in northern Europe and wasn't temperate enough to support jungles. The article went on to say that many of the companies just source their water from taps, filter it, and then resell it. I thought it was a genius scam. A few months ago I had collected empty water bottles and refilled them with tap water. I walked around school offering the 'bottled water' for half the price as the vending machines and kids actually bought it. Well, until the teachers cracked down on me. I guess I was cutting too deep into the vending machine profits.

I checked my wristwatch again, 10:44am. I was running a little late. I headed toward the toilets, lunchbox tucked under my arm. The toilets were a separate building, more like a big outhouse or a restroom building. The structure was raised on a platform and surrounded by a hedge. Male and female toilet rooms were side by side. The male toilets were on the far side and you had to walk past the female toilets to get to them. The door of the female toilet swung out toward the male toilet, so that no one could look in while walking towards the toilet rooms, but every kid walking out of the male toilet had to walk past the constantly opening door of the female toilet as they exited the building. It was not the most intelligent design for a restroom building and given the chance, I would have put the female toilet room on the far side. The only good thing about the design was that kids didn't really hang around the toilets and just got in and out as fast as they could; well, most of them anyways.

I entered the male toilets and chose the toilet stall on the far right, next to the wall. I never used the urinals in fear of attack. A kid doing their business was at their most vulnerable, and anyone could walk in and kick you from behind while you were busy. I was far more comfortable with a locked door, even though it also had its dangers. The most common bullying assault in the toilets involved wet tissue paper. Thankfully they only used water, but it was still nasty getting pelted by wet tissue paper as you exited the stall. The stalls were a standard design, with an open area below and above. I always ducked down and looked around before exiting the stall. This has saved me on more than one occasion, when you see two or more legs standing outside the stall you know something is about to happen. Unfortunately the only way out is to wait for the bullies to get bored. I had once waited almost an hour for them to leave before being able to get out of the toilets. This time however, I was the only one in the room. I washed my hands and dried before leaving, but as I opened the door two familiar faces stood in front of me, they were from class 8-A. Two bullies who I had been able to avoid for the better part of two months since my last run in with them.