Anger Issues

Marian Hoefnagel

Description

Fictionalized accounts of true life stories

Sujets

• Issue
• Real life
• Liste de termes d'argot Internet
• Issues

Informations

• Publié par: Read Zone
• Date de parution: 01 septembre 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783228553
• Langue: English

Extrait

ANGER ISSUES
ReadZone Books Limited






© copyright in the text Marian Hoefnagel 2007
© copyright in this edition ReadZone Books 2017

Originally published in the Netherlands as Met alle geweld
© 2007 Uitgeverij Eenvoudig Communiceren, Amsterdam

Translation by Florian Blom

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data (CIP) is available for this title.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of ReadZone Books Limited.

ISBN 978-1-78322-854-6

Printed in Malta by Melita Press

Visit our website: www.readzonebooks.com
MARIAN HOEFNAGEL
ANGER ISSUES
Dealing with agression
Cool

Yung walks out of the school building. His bag is hanging off his right shoulder. It makes him look cool. Yung never wears his backpack on his back. Only Year 7 kids do that. And Yung hasn’t been in Year 7 for quite some time. Fortunately.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Maisie coming. He tries to walk with a swagger. And to look a bit nonchalant. But he doesn’t really know how. Take large steps, maybe? Yes, that must be right. Soldiers in movies always do that.

Yung can see his reflection in the glass side of the bus stop. The bag over one shoulder looks okay. But the large strides actually look a bit funny. He hopes Maisie didn’t see him.

He walks to the bus stop. The bus won’t come for ten minutes. But waiting ten minutes doesn’t matter. He can smoke a cigarette. And watch all the girls coming out of school.

Yung lights a cigarette and takes a big drag. He used to cough when he did that. But as time has passed he’s become used to it. Cool.

A couple of boys join him at the bus stop. They are all wearing caps, with the peak backwards. Yung has seen them before. They must be boys from school. Yung only started at this school a few weeks ago. He hardly knows anyone.

Imagine: nothing but boys

‘Bye Yung, see you tomorrow,’ Maisie calls. She rides past the bus stop on her bike and waves.
He quickly raises his hand. ‘Bye,’ he says. He watches her all the way. Until she turns the corner.

‘Soooo ...’ one of the boys at the bus stop says. He gives Yung a sly look. ‘Does Maisie fancy Chinese boys now?’
The other boys laugh.
‘Yeah, she’s never had one of them before,’ another replies.
And they all laugh again. Fortunately, the bus arrives at the stop. The boys get in, still laughing. Yung doesn’t respond. He takes a seat right behind the driver. He knows that the boys always sit together. In the back seat.
‘So,’ the driver says to Yung.
‘Did you survive school today?’
Yung shrugs. ‘Well,’ he says. ‘It wasn’t that bad. But it’s still school, of course.’
The driver nods. ‘I used to hate it, too,’ he says. ‘I only enjoyed lunchtime. And PE. And the school parties. Actually, I only liked school because of the girls.’
Yung laughs.
‘I’m glad I never went to a boys’ school,’ the man goes on. ‘Imagine being surrounded just by boys for the whole day. I don’t even want to think about it.’
Yung thinks about it briefly. Then he replies, ‘No. I wouldn’t like that either.’

Sun-Wing

Yung opens the door of the restaurant. It says Sun-Wing on the door. That may sound Chinese, but it is English. This is Yung’s parents’ restaurant.

Yung walks through the small entrance hall. In the restaurant there is a bar. There is always someone behind it. Sometimes his mother, sometimes one of his sisters. His father never works behind the bar. His father is always in the kitchen. Yung’s father is a chef, and quite a good one, too.

‘Hello, son,’ says Yung’s mother in Chinese. ‘Did you do well in school?’
Yung nods. ‘Hello, Mother,’ he says politely. ‘Yes, it was okay.’
Yung answers his mother’s question in English, not Chinese.
‘I left some food for you upstairs,’ Yung’s mother says.
‘Great,’ says Yung.
He walks past the bar, towards the stairs. The stairs creak as he goes up. It’s an old staircase; it’s an old house, too. But it is a nice house. The rooms are large with high ceilings. The two kitchens are huge: the kitchen for the restaurant downstairs and the kitchen upstairs.

Yung’s meal is on a black tray. There are four of the same trays on the kitchen table. On every tray is a bowl of rice, a bowl of soup and a small mug with tea. Yung places his tray in the microwave. In a few minutes, the food is hot.

Maybe I can eat outside, Yung thinks. He takes his tray and walks out of the kitchen door. He’s on the flat roof of the storage room. Actually, it’s quite chilly, but Yung decides to stay outside anyway. He turns over an empty beer crate and sits on it.

The only boy

Yung’s sisters enter the kitchen, chatting loudly. Ka-wai, Ka-lai and Ka-mai. All three of them are older than Yung. And they are better- looking than Yung. And they work harder than Yung.

Yung’s sisters are in grammar school, in Year 11, 12 and 13. They work at the restaurant in the evenings. On Saturdays they go to Chinese lessons. On Sundays they do their homework. Yung is in Year 10. He doesn’t have to work in the restaurant. He doesn’t have to go to the Chinese school. And he prefers not to do homework.

‘Hello, little brother!’ the sisters yell in Chinese.
‘Hello, sisters,’ Yung growls in English.
They join him on the flat roof with their trays. But they soon decide it’s too chilly.
‘Come inside!’ they say.
‘You will a catch a cold out here, little brother.’
Yung sighs. It is not easy being the youngest. Especially being the youngest boy in a family of girls. And particularly being the youngest in a Chinese family of girls.

Yung’s parents were very happy when Yung was born. A boy at last, after three girls! Finally Yung’s father felt like a real man. Because a real man has a son. And Yung’s mother felt like a real woman.

The sisters were happy with their baby brother too. Yung was so lovely, so cute, so adorable. And so Yung became terribly spoiled.

Now, Yung is a bit of a disappointment. He doesn’t study as well as his sisters. And he isn’t as sweet as his sisters. Yung may be a boy, but he’s not exactly a perfect son. In Yung’s parents’ opinion.

Maisie

Yung is in his bedroom. It’s only a small room. But it’s all his. His sisters have a bigger room. But they have to share it between the three of them. They don’t mind at all, as it happens. Yung’s sisters really like being together all the time.

Yung looks out of the window. Across the street is a small supermarket. There is always a group of boy racers with souped-up cars hanging out in the car park outside. They often make comments to girls going into the shop. Most of the time the girls laugh. One or two get angry. But that doesn’t happen often.

Yung likes watching them. Mainly the girls, of course. But not one of the girls is like Maisie. That much he is sure of. Maisie…

She truly is the prettiest girl in the world. She has very thick, long auburn hair. She has big grey eyes. Kind eyes. And the most beautiful skin tone Yung has ever seen. The colour of cream. The rest of her is actually quite ordinary. Not big and not small. Not fat and not thin.

But her clothes aren’t ordinary. She always wears dresses. Long, messy dresses. With a brown leather jacket over the top. And with high-heeled brown shoes. She always looks special. Much nicer than his sisters. They always look so dull. Especially when they are helping in the restaurant. A white blouse, a black skirt. Boring.

Mr Hill

‘Yes, you can go inside now.’ Mr Hill, the ICT teacher, bellows it through the corridor. He is a big man with a bald head and a loud voice. He looks cool, with large motorcycle boots on his feet.
Yung is a little scared of him. He doesn’t like running into Mr Hill in the corridors. And he doesn’t like having him as a teacher either.

‘Yes, Yung, I’m talking to you,’ shouts Mr Hill.
Yung glances at Maisie beside him.
She smiles.
‘Just open the door,’ she says.
Yung opens the door of the computer room.
‘See, you can do it,’ Mr Hill says.
Yung is unsure what to make of his remark. Is Mr Hill mocking him or not? Yung hears the other pupils laugh. He starts to feel a bit insecure.

‘Go to where you left off last time,’ Mr Hill says. ‘That should be somewhere in Chapter 5. That chapter needs to be finished by the end of today.’
Yung quickly looks for where he left off last class. Chapter 5 is already finished!

‘I’m already done, sir,’ he says.
‘Then you can entertain yourself. Make a graph or whatever,’ Mr Hill says.
Yung looks at him in surprise. He is about to ask what kind of graph he is supposed to make. But then Maisie asks, ‘Can we go on Facebook?’
‘Sure, if you think that’s a better use of your time than making a graph,’ Mr Hill says earnestly.
Maisie winks at Yung.

Yung quickly loads Facebook. He sees Maisie doing the same.