“You’re running today, right?”

“Yes, Mom,” I responded dryly.

“Okay, I hope that you can win lah.” She came over and kissed me on the cheek. I flinched from this false display of care. Her breath still reeked of the beer from last night.

I thought as I walked. Today was the day. That one day of the year. It was the track and field national finals. I shuffled a little uneasily under the weight of my school bag. This was the day I had practised for endlessly, that had gotten me failures, beatings from my father, humiliation from my friends.

The bus arrived five minutes after I had reached the bus stop. It was considerably long, the men and women waiting were tapping their feet and constantly checking their watches. As the HDB flats drifted further behind me, I dwelled in thought again. What if I lost? My training would have all gone to waste, as well as everything else I had sacrificed. Failing was never easy; people laughed at you, my father would get violent and my mom would smile and ask me if I had had dinner.

The bus stopped, and I began the seemingly long trudge to my classroom. I hated school. My bag was so heavy, the lessons were boring and the tests were impossible. It did serve as a distraction from my family life but it was nevertheless horrible. When I arrived in the flurry of rebellion I called my class, I was greated by several smiles.

“Hi!”

“Hello.”

I forced a smile and retreated to my seat in the corner. I yawned through English, slept through history, and then it was time for me to leave to prepare for my event. At this moment, I suddenly thought of my brother. He had run away from home years ago, I could barely remember his face. I do remember that he completed his university with the help of a scholarship and my grandfather, whom my father never visits on Chinese New Year now. My brother had always been my best friend; I respected him, I loved him. He had been a sprinter as well. He excelled in everything, his studies were superb and he had been a prefect. My father beat him anyway. He never not had an excuse to use his fists on him.

I walked onto the track. This was my safe haven, my sanctuary. I threw my school bag to the ground and proceeded to the washroom to change. My shoes were gone for spikes, my blouse for a tank top and my skirt was gone for shorts. My mind gone, I boarded the bus. Now I was among my true friends, people I trusted and loved. Everyone was nervous, but spirits were high. It was hard to be sad when you were in what I was in. Laughter was so heavy you could have plucked it from the sky like strands of silver.

Arriving, we began our warm ups. I noticed how big the stadium was. I shivered slightly. Then, we proceeded to the bench. I was nervous, and it was worse as the stadium started filling up. My friend put her arm around my shoulder. I smiled gratefully. And we sat there just believing in each other.

Then, it was time for my race. This was it. My coach extended her hand and pulled me up. She smiled meaningfully and I nodded.

After the final warm-ups, it was time. I bent at the ready. This was it.

“Ready!” I bent down.

“Set!” I lowered further and was looking behind. There I saw a beast, a hideous collage of several things and people. It carried a school bag. And it had my mother’s eyes.

The gunshot rang out. I broke into a sprint. I could have sworn that it was chasing me. My heart spurred me forward. And there, at the finish line, was my family. My mother was a businesswoman. My father owned a hawker stall. And my brother was back. They were smiling.

I leapt forward determinedly and covered the last of the hundred metres quickly. And the announcer roared, “And in first place with a new record… Tan Huilin!”

And the audience burst into applause.