July 15th, 2008 The Sketch Book

(This is a five page short story I wrote for the course Reading and Writing Short Stories in March 2006.)

My feet were leading the way while I hastily moved upstairs. They finally stopped in front of the iron door on the forty-first floor. I was never a resident of King Fat House. However, for the past two years I had made myself familiar with this forty-storey building, or to be precise, its roof.

Pushing the iron door open, I was immediately welcomed by the silver moonlight above the forest of aerials. My glance met Isabel at last. She was sitting in the same white plastic chair with a sketch book on her lap. Her pale and slender body was already in her baby blue pyjamas. She turned and greeted me with a faint smile as usual.

“It’s late, Isabel. Go home and sleep.” I quickly demanded.

“I’ll go back later.” She pointed down lazily, “but for now, would you like to waste a few minutes to make my day?”

“Okay.” Without a mere thought, I walked up and sat on the floor next to her.

“Thank you.” She handed me the sketch book.

“Oh, clouds.” In the drawing was a sea of clouds in the colours of a rainbow. They were dancing in a milky sky.

“Clouds are dreams, light and untouchable.” She presented. “What do you think? Are the effects working? Do you understand what I am trying to express?”

“I think it is good.” Like every other drawing of hers, it was stunning. It penetrated my body and sent butterflies to my spine. It was spectacular.

“Pan! Be serious and specific! You’re my only critic. Make me happy for once!”

“Sorry!” I shrugged as she playfully punched my back. “By the way, the sky is fine today.”

“I don’t care about the sky up there. My sky is way better.” She stood up and casually closed her book.

I grabbed the white chair with one arm and followed Isabel downstairs.

***

At the beginning of the last academic year, our class bought her a poster colour set and a sketch book.

“These could really help me pass a lot of time. Thank you,” Isabel said in the manner of a tape and threw the sketch book over her bed.

I knelt down, picked the sketch book up and put it back on her bed without a single utterance.

I guess that was when she started painting.

***

I was lying on my back on the roof and looking upon the dark starless sky when Isabel’s voice sounded beside me.

“Pan?”

“Hmm?”

“I think, one of those days I will be selling hum ngap dan¹ too.”

“Huh? Why on earth would you do that?” I turned to face her.

“Because I will. It doesn’t matter if I would, or wouldn’t. It’s just the way it is.” She stared straight into my eyes, “Grandma said it was what happened to Dad and Mum.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

—
¹Hum ngap dan: Cantonese phrase which literally means salty duck eggs.

***

Isabel lived in room 3612 at King Fat House with her grandmother, who was apparently over eighty years old. Her hair was strangely familiar, I did not recognise it as the colour which Isabel had picked to paint the moon until very recently.

I could remember when I first saw the old lady about two years ago on a Parents’ Day at school. After she had got Isabel’s report card, she suddenly called my mother and asked if she would mind to talk. My mum said she wouldn’t. Then the old lady waddled towards us so slowly that I needed to dash over to help.

As I was busy studying the grass grown between the floor tiles outside our classroom, neither did I know how long they’d talked nor what they were discussing.

***

I never understood why Isabel liked to talk about ham ngap dan so much. People who did business usually earned a lot of money but selling ham ngap dan was certainly not a business that could make a fortune.

I didn’t even know what ham ngap dan were.

***

Nobody in class 3B would ever forget that particular Monday morning. I was unbelievably close to wetting my school trousers when I heard a loud “bong!” sound and found that Isabel Leung had fallen down from her seat next to me. The girls in our class all screamed. We looked at our Mathematics teacher for instructions but found him frozen on the spot.

“Is she dead?”

“Should we call 999?”

“What to do?”

“Hung Cheuk Pan, do something!” One of my classmates shouted my name and it dawned on me that I had to do something. I jumped out of my seat and moved near Isabel, who was purple and unconscious. I put my thumb on her wrist and was thankful to feel a pulse.

The classroom was filled with shouts and screams and chaos when the ambulance arrived and after it brought Isabel away.

Isabel had not been to school since then.

***

“You have a crush on me, don’t you?” Isabel held her sketch book to my face. I saw a heart-shaped balloon in pink. It was the first time she showed me her drawings.

“What?”

“Then you must be a stalker.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“No.”

She sighed, “I know what this is about. Your mother wants you to be my friend, right?”

“I won’t answer that.” I stared down. The poster colours were all over the floor.

“That means ‘yes’. I have never had a friend and I don’t need one. Go home and tell your mother that.” She threw the sketch book over her bed.

I could vaguely recall myself walking out of the ward, speechless.

***

The doctors had already removed Isabel’s tumour but her long sick leave would not be over until the end of the year.

“It doesn’t matter. I’d rather die than letting you guys see the scar on top of my head.” She said as she pulled down her hat.

***

That year I was in form five. We were getting more and more stressed out because of the HKCE examinations. One day, a girl my age jumped off the roof of King Fat House. She had failed all her mock exams.

The next morning, Isabel was found on the roof, having fainted.

A week later, some counsellors were sent to Isabel’s house. Expecting a lot of tidying up, I went there and ended up sitting with her grandmother on the couch and waiting.

For the three days they were there, the counsellors left all looking pleased. When we peeped in the room, we only saw Isabel drawing.

One thing was curious to me - she was smiling, too.

***

Students in class 3B always found their stuff everywhere in the classroom after recess. And they always knew who messed up their things.

“Isabel Leung is very ill-tempered,” I told Mum.

“She is sick,” my mother stated.

“She has absolutely no control over her limbs.”

“So?”

“So I won’t do it.” She was not going to be grateful and I was not going to be happy.

“Do what I told you to. Take care of your classmate.”

I watched my mother as she pressed the doorbell next to the ‘3612′ sign.

***

After a week of thinking and guessing and head-scratching, I gave in and went to my mother when she was preparing our dinner.

“Mum, do you make a lot of money selling ham ngap dan?”

“Choi²! Pan you’d better stop saying that.” She kept on frying the fish.

“What? Why?”

“Are you kidding your own mother?”

“No. I swear I am not.”

“Selling ham ngap dan means dying. Get it? Now spit and don’t ever say that again.”

—
²Choi: Cantonese slang which carries a similar meaning to the English expression “touchwood”.

***

It had been at least six months since it became unnecessary to tidy up Isabel’s house.

***

“Pan, although you never talk much, thanks for being here. I will never forget you even when I go to sell ham ngap dan.”

“Don’t talk like an old person.”

“I lied, or have changed, I don’t know. But I love this sky better.” Isabel passed me the sketch book.

“Why?” I asked as I was studying the baby blue sky.

“Because you are under it, Grandma is under it, and I should be under it.”

“Whatever happened to your sky?”

“It’s always here.” She placed a hand over her heart.

***

“This is a thank you card for my best friend.” Isabel said while tearing a page out of her sketch book.

“Hm… thank you. But do you think this is a good place?” I took the page from her hand.

“It is fine.” She rolled her eyes, excitement shone on her crimson face. “I kind of miss the little grass outside our classroom.”

“Then step in.” I lightly pushed her back as we both hurried through the school gate.