An Unscratchable Itch

“Crap! Not again,” I murmur under my breath as my eyes chase the shadow of the C36 bus, turning the corner and disappearing into the foggy distance.

I flip my finger at the bus, not that the bus driver would have seen. If only I hadn’t spent that much time changing this morning, or maybe if my mom didn’t talk to me so long at the door, I could have made that darn bus. I’ll make sure to give her a piece of my mind when I get home later today. My mom is so Asian I swear to God.

I glance at my watch. 8:15 A.M., it screams in bright flashing numbers. I pause for a moment, pondering whether I should just walk to school or wait for the next bus that comes. I sigh, shifting my bag to the other shoulder.

“Might as well walk it,” I think grudgingly.

I drag my feet on the icy sidewalk. I watch the gleaming frost coating the grass, transfixed. Each drop of my breath hangs, sparkling, in the freezing morning air. I breathe a little faster, staring at each breath.

As I near the crosswalk, a scruffy man in slacks slowly approaches me. His grin, meant to be friendly, hangs on his face like half melted ice-cream in the bottom of a discarded cup. I couldn’t help staring at his thick and thin lines of wrinkles scrunched up in the corner of his eyes, like roads going in different directions.

“Gott’er any chang’er?” he asks, still grinning like a cat. “Ah just need to take’er a bus to downtown’er to see’er family”.

Did this guy even finish middle school? I wonder.

Since I’m walking to school, I might as well give him my bus change. He will probably buy weed or cigs with my money, but I figure everyone wants something anyways.

I open my mouth to say that he could have my bus change, but his yellow stained crooked teeth catches my eye. All of a sudden, I whirl around, facing my back in his direction. I make my way back to the bus stop. I don’t really know why I denied him money, but I keep on walking to the bus stop.

By the time I find my compass card, I have convinced myself that my bus money could be put into better use than drugs. I slouch down low onto the bench, checking both directions to make sure he isn’t following me. I insert my ear plugs into both my ears and click the shuffle button on my music playlist, hoping that music will bring a halt to time.

A Nina Simone song starts playing. I remember how this is the first song I’ve ever cried to; although, I’m unsure of why I did.

Why you wanna fly Blackbird; you ain’t ever gonna fly. No place big enough for holdin’ all the tears you’re gonna cry…

Two teenage boys approach the stop and I can hear soft but loud voices over my music. I take a quick glance at the two boys, an Asian boy who looked a little short for his age with a white boy, wearing extremely baggy clothes. I shudder at the lack of taste in clothes and take off one ear piece, hoping to catch some of their little pubescent conversation.

“Yo Zhang, wanna skip class with me today?” the white boy says with a smirk. “Let’s go to Starbucks, I heard that’s where all the chicks hang”.

“Nah Taylor, my mom’s gonna kill me if she finds out.” Zhang, the Asian boy mutters, quickly directing his gaze down to his feet.

Taylor. What a common name I think. I start to list all the people I know that has that name. Taylor Lautner, Taylor Swift, a bunch of Taylors’ from my school –

“Oh yeah I get it,” Taylor says loudly, interrupting my thoughts. “Your mom’s Asian, that’s why she wouldn’t let you.”

I frown as I focus on Taylor, unable to decipher what he just said. I look at the boy, Zhang, with a blank stare on my face, wondering what he might reply.

“Ha ha it’s not really like that, she just wants me to do well in school ya’ know,” Zhang mumbles uneasily, starting to fidget with his thumbs.

“Bro, since you’re Asian, don’t you already get A’s in everything? Why would she care?” Taylor asks.

I’m starting to get uncomfortable. Already there is an itch in a place I know I’ll never be able to scratch. I open my mouth as if to say something, but a cough awkwardly escapes me instead. I wish I had just walked to school.

“Well that’s because I study,” Zhang says nervously, still keeping his gaze down.

“Well even if you didn’t, you still would get an A,” Taylor presses on, as he picks up a rock and flicks it onto the road, “Come on dude; don’t be so Asian.”

My heart feels like a rock in the ocean. I slouch down even farther in my seat, trying to look composed. I glance up towards Zhang and his gaze flickers towards me, unsure of what to say. His face is hesitant, and his eyes looked soft but hard at the same time. I look down at my shoes and ideas start running through my head of what I could possibly say to Taylor. The words can’t seem to leave my mouth. They are about two years younger than I am. I shouldn’t be afraid of what they say.

“Nah man, I’m just going to go to school today,” Zhang replies.

“Okay whatever, your loss,” Taylor says, as he starts walking away. He then pauses and whips his head back. He stares at Zhang, who then finally lifts his head and purse his lips.

“Enjoy your dog for your lunch, pussy!” Taylor yells from the distance. He snickers and turns around, swaggers away.

Both Zhang and I watch the receding figure until he fades into the thick fog.

Should I have said something? Zhang keeps standing there, rubbing his hand onto his runny nose. I wonder what my friends would have done if they saw this. They’d feel heroic, for sure.

I sink my heavy head into my arms, which feel like noodles that could tear anytime. I breathe out a heavy sigh. I can feel the fog from my breath come out but I do not bother to look this time.

As I lifted my head up, I see my bus approaching to the station. I look at Zhang, wondering what he’s going to do. He stands there motionlessly, like a little scarecrow. The bus comes to a halt but I gaze at the bus driver, who tilts his head at us. When neither of us moves an inch, the doors close and the bus is gone. I watch the grey exhaust trail off behind it. Slowly, I lift myself up and start making my way towards school.

If you’d only understand dear, nobody wants you anywhere, so why you wanna fly Blackbird, you ain’t ever gonna fly…

As I near the crosswalk again, the old man who approached me before is walking around in circles, muttering to himself. I pause and turn to him.

“Hey!” I yell, my voice slightly raspy.

He turns around and gives me his big gaping smile, the smile that could probably outstretch his face.

“Here,” I say, thrusting my money into his shaking hands.

“Thank y’er,” he squawked, quickly marching off towards the bus stop.

He’ll feel good today, I think, as I continue walking off towards my way to school. But I won’t.

As I walk, I begin thinking of how I hated my skin color and my cultural identity when people like that white boy, Taylor, would mock my culture; of how I had inwardly blamed my mother’s “Asianess” for making me late to school today. I remember how I’d try scrubbing my skin with a cloth, hoping that it’d fade off to a paler color. I remember inviting my white dad instead of my Asian mother to parent teacher conferences. I remember spending much of my time convincing people I’m not like that stereotypical Asian.

As I near the school, I now wish I had gone up to Taylor and punched him in the face.