Confessions of a Cat-holic (85)

Apart from all these, I was also subjugated to unspeakable sexual assaults.

Apparently, they said I was Japanese. Not sure where they overheard the rumors, but they didn't bother to factcheck over whatever they were told on the internet. And they said they were the smartest of us all, like Americans were all simpletons and Hong Kong intelligence was a joke.

They said Alan Nip had a thing for me. Alan had a nickname, Hound, for apparent reasons because the word Hound in Chinese resembled his first name. He was a typical engineer, excellent in maths and reluctant to speak in class, privately and publicly. I was in the same class with him for three years but I did not recall having had any conversation with him. It could be that he had a crush on me. It could be that he was another stalker. Or it could just be a scandal or falsified rumor. Whatever it was, his alleged unrequited love resulted in his suspicious ejaculations in class, as he wetted his pants and went to the toilet like an emergency for a few times in class.

But they liked to victim blame me. If you googled online, Hong Kong doctors had a disproportionately high rate of committing voyeurism, specifically photographing the pussy of nurses and strangers by hidden cameras. You could say that I was not officially harmed or touched but still the idea of my private parts being exposed in the forms of pictures over the internet could be a nuance.

They said that if I was Japanese, then I must have been born to bring entertainment and sexual arousal for all the opposite sex anyways, since I had a face that looked like a porn star. If they said I was trying to seduce a guy by dropping an eraser on the floor, then my purported Japanese descedancy was indeed an original sin.

When could I ever leave this school of idiosyncrasy?

And the girls were not any better.

Apart from class F where it was located on the 8th floor of a seperate building, all of our science classrooms were lined on the same floor, which meant that class E was at the far end of the corridor, with class D on the next, and so on.

Once I left my corner of safe haven in class E, the scene of the corridor was indeed a dire disgrace to Christianity as a whole. Some girls made me feel ashamed to call myself a woman. It should have been a blessing to be born a female but sometimes some girls just liked to turn it into a curse.

Every day, every lunch break, every recess, there were packs of girls with wavy dyed hair and heavy makeup standing outside of the classrooms waiting for guys to strike up a conversation like some street hookers. There were around 10-15 of them. Of course, they wouldn't be standing outside the classroom all at once. They took turns and the permutations of their presence never failed to entertain the rest of us in school.

Rosanna Tang was among the most obvious one. She wore makeup to school every day and I was talking about foundation pact that was about a feet thick with her signature caked high cheek bone, big red lips and sharp pointy jaw. She often hang out with Tracy and Vivian as a satellite friend. She liked to stand outside the classroom with Onza who went by the name Za, but her real name was Jessica Anakotta. Apparently, Za was not of pure Chinese lineage, if you judged her by the name and the looks. It was known to everyone in our year that Rex was aggressively going after her by sending her handbags and expensive watches. Her grades were only okay. She went to a community college on the west coast of America where she dated Arnold Yip, an Apple engineer in our year, for the longest time.

There was a time when I went to St Jo's Green and White Ball and Za also happened to be there. Za was only wearing a white bratop showing her entire shoulders and belly with super short hot pants and she was subsequently elected as the Ball Queen of the night. Congratulations was all I could say to her. You wouldn't seduce the mafia through imitating Miss Little's fashion style on theatre screens, sorry.