Chapter 1
* Skam- a Norwegian show that is extremely good; it has a bunch of remakes, and the best one is wtFOCK (Skam Belgium), the one that I watched first (you all should watch it)
* la- a Cantonese word (slang) that has no meaning and is usually stuck to the end of sentences or phrases
* Yum Cha- the Cantonese tradition of brunch involving Chinese tea and dim sum
* Videregående skole- Norwegian upper secondary school, for 16-19 year olds, equivalent to upper classes in American high school
The cream-colored walls of my bedroom started to blur as I reached my second minute of staring into the empty space. I was tangled among throw blankets and sprawled across my bed, which was fortunately long enough to support my lengthy legs- a gene that I was glad to have inherited from my mother, a native Norwegian. Sunlight was streaming in through an adjacent window, which was a perk of living in southern Norway. You still received sunlight in winter. I was supposed to be getting ready for school- I had waited too long and only had about eight minutes left. At the moment, though, I was inadvertently lost in my thoughts. I was thinking about what we do for others with the intentions of protecting them; but even with the best of intentions, the results don’t often come out the way we want them to. A lot of situations follow this. For example, in *Skam, Noora withheld the fact that she was dating William (Vilde’s crush) from Vilde in an attempt to “protect” her friend, but in the end, she just got hurt. We all get hurt though. It’s a part of life.
I inhaled the scent of orange blossoms, with a hint of vanilla, and snapped out of my thoughts. I didn’t understand why those thoughts hit me at that hour, at that day. I wasn’t particularly in the mood to be contemplative and sad. Yet, all I could do was let out a breathy sigh and attune my focus to a picture mounted on the wall across from me. It was surrounded by other photos that I had tacked onto the rough surface in hopes of covering up my poor paint job done a few years ago when I didn’t know a thing about painting a wall. My parents still let me do it anyway. Back to the square picture, I scanned over the four young faces laughing at what someone off camera must have said. One of the girl’s platinum blonde hair caught my eye. ‘It really always has been that color,’ I mused to myself. I always poked fun at Thea for having such light-colored hair, but it was one of her most beautiful features, aside from her personality. Something next to that captured my attention even more. It was the emerald green eyes of a shorter girl, which seemed to be filled with mischief and glee. That was always how Astrid had been: constantly plotting a prank or figuring out how to mess with us. I sighed once again, pulled the captured moment off the wall and threw it aside. Like a butterfly, it fluttered its way to my dark, oak wood desk, next to where my laptop rested, charging. Spotting where it had landed and stifling yet again another sigh, I made no move to put it back into its place on the wall or throw it in the waste basket only a few feet away.
“CHERIE!”
The sound of my mother’s voice jolted me back into the present. It seemed like a lot of things were doing that to me lately. Despite yelling at me to get ready and eat breakfast, my mother’s voice was still soft and sweet- just like how she would sound when she used to sing me lullabies when I was younger.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!”
I returned a shout before rushing to change into my knit, dark grey sweater dress. I was thankful that it wasn’t too cold outside as I pulled on my thigh-high, black velvet boots. Finally, I wrapped a lighter grey blanket scarf around my neck and snatched my black leather tote bag before closing my bedroom door behind me. I rushed down my dimly lit hallway courtesy of the decades old light fixtures to arrive in the copper-toned kitchen, which was warm and engulfed with all sorts of good smells. I deeply inhaled the scent of freshly brewed tea and coffee and sat down next to my father who was reading the paper, glasses perched on his nose and coffee cup in hand. He was something out of an old American movie, and it amused me greatly to know that that was the first thing I thought of when I saw him.
“Good morning, *la.”
“Morning, Dad. What’s in the paper?”
“Not much, just the same old politics and shocking news headlines. . . these things just continually desensitize us to what should be surprising news.”
My father clicked his tongue in disapproval, and I merely smiled, as I didn’t exactly know what to say in response. I turned my attention towards my mother, who was already handing me chrysanthemum tea in my usual travel cup and a steamed pork bun wrapped neatly in recyclable paper. Part of my pride was that my family attempted to be as eco-friendly as possible, thanks to my constant urging. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”
She frowned in response and smiled again. “I know. Too bad we couldn’t sit down for *Yum Cha today. We can do that over the weekend. Now, don’t be late to school, okay? It’s only the last week.”
I gave her a quick hug and assured her that I would be on time, as I always was. When I made my way down the stairs and out of my apartment building into the chilly air, I was greeted by my best friend, Thea, who was holding her reusable coffee cup from Liebling, our favorite coffee shop, and the last few bites of a croissant. Wrapped up in a muted toned scarf, similar in style to my own, and wearing a white sweater and light blue silk skirt, she looked extremely stylish. “Fashionable as always, I see.”
Thea laughed. “Just like you. But don’t change the subject and pretend like you didn’t leave me hanging out here for twenty minutes! Where were you?”
I knew that she knew it wasn’t too bad of a wait and that the weather wasn’t awful, but she still whined and gave me a playful glare. Sheepishly, I looked away and noticed that the sky was a shade of cerulean blue, the perfect color to paint something. . . if only I had the skill. “Sorry, sorry. I woke up a bit late, and something was on my mind, so I got distracted.”
Dropping her annoyed façade, my platinum blonde-haired friend whirled around and grinned. “Anything you’d like to share...?”
“No, I was just thinking of us and what we were like when we were kids.”
It was a small lie, but I didn’t feel like bringing up a topic that brought back unwanted feelings for the both of us.
Thea’s grin widened, nothing on her face hinting that she knew I had just fibbed. “We had so much fun as kids! I wish we could go back. Back then, we didn’t have exams or homework. All we could do was play and be free.”
Her answer was unsurprising. She always pushed her assignments aside when there was any excuse for her to go have fun someplace else, contrasting my own habits. As we walked down the streets surrounded by colorful apartment buildings, small shops, bars, entertainment venues and fusion restaurants (one of which was Zhao, my family’s own, run by my mother and father), evidence of immigrants and their infusion of their culture into Norway’s, we continued to discuss our childhood and the cons of being in *Videregående skole. I reflected Thea’s opinion on wishing we didn’t have to work so hard in school. “Sometimes I wish we could just take a day off and do nothing.”
“You know. . . we could. “
By the tone of her voice, I could tell she wasn’t joking. After all, Thea was always spontaneous and up for anything and everything. I wished I could be like her all the time. Spotting the red brick arches of Hartvig Nissen, the school we went to, in my peripheral, I gripped her shoulders and stared at her for a good few seconds. “Even though we could, Thea, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t. Besides, if your parents found out that you skipped, they’d come back and give you a beating. And they’d probably lock you out of your own apartment.”
The Lauritsens, Thea’s parents, worked in Stockholm while their daughter lived in Oslo. They hadn’t wanted to uproot her education, so when she was older, she received her own apartment in Aker Brygge, one of the better off neighborhoods. Having her own place made for some pretty amazing sleepovers, and despite what I said about Thea’s procrastination, she did always manage to get her work done on time to show her parents that she could handle the huge responsibility. It was no surprise that they had an insane work ethic that they tried to pass down to Thea. Aything to contradict that would send them flying home immediately to revoke her privileges.
My best friend smiled again, showing her pearly white teeth. “I know, but it was a fun thought while it lasted.”
Before I could say anything in response, we were both tackled to the ground (thankfully, not the cement) by a curly brown-haired boy. “Ready for summer break, guys?!”
His slight Italian accent gave him away immediately. I got up, brushed off any particles of dirt off my dress and chastised him. “Luca, your enthusiasm is appreciated, but it does not call for jumping us.”
Luca scratched the bridge of his nose, covered in small freckles, and pondered. “Well, I didn’t jump you. I tackled you.”
After she made sure her skirt was in the same condition pre-tackle, Thea gave him a once-over and crossed her arms. “I just got these clothes, so for the life of me, don’t ruin them before I get the chance to wear them fully.”
Her serious face was soon replaced by laughter, and she playfully punched Luca in the shoulder. “Of course, I’m ready for break! Who wants to be here in this hellhole for any longer?”
I chimed in, feeling left out from the exchange. “No one does. I’m so ready to be off from school and not have to think about Ellinor’s class- I hate history with her so much. She makes it incredibly boring.”
Both of my friends nodded in agreement. By now, we were standing in the middle of the open courtyard, waiting for the bell to ring and dismiss us to class. Some students were already here, while others were still strolling in past the gates. More and more people started to clump together in their respective friend groups, and the noise level rose as girls increasingly gossiped about some party and guys clambered to one up one another in some sport. I didn’t understand how they could do it. How could they just talk endlessly about subjects that truly didn’t matter? While I worried about turning in projects on time and keeping up grades, my peers stressed about how they looked and acted in front of their potential flings. I was honestly a bit jealous of their freedom. Sure, I was an independent, young woman who was taught to be self-sufficient, but I was trapped in a cage of my parents’ expectations- more so my father’s. All I ever wanted was to not think and do something without any motive to get closer to my goal of being top of the class. Who was I kidding, though? I was too stuck in my own bubble to be able to reach out and do other things.
While I was deep in observance, I didn’t realize that my eyes had stopped and were looking straight at a group of guys who had arrived and were sitting on a wood picnic table. There were four of them, talking among themselves without paying any notice to the other girls who had transitioned from gossiping to ogling. They were the typical popular boys one would see at any secondary/high school. All four sported trendy hairstyles in either blonde or brown, and they had blue eyes, a prominent and widespread characteristic among Norwegians. Even so, my nickname for them was the “Blue-Eyed Boys.” It was a way for me to make fun of a group of guys that, in my eyes, wasn’t anything special, but if referenced to in front of other girls would be. One of the leaner ones at the edge of the group- I remembered his name to be Erik because he was in my class- noticed me staring and winked at me. I cringed inwardly and turned around to face my friends. They had noticed that I wasn’t a part of their conversation and had faced the direction that I had been facing. When I turned around, all four of the Blue-Eyed Boys were looking at us, Thea and me especially. They were scanning us up and down, and to them, how we looked today was cause for catcalling and “flirting.” We earned glares from the rest of the female student body because we were getting the guys’ attention, and they weren’t. What girl in her right mind would want to be catcalled? It was degrading, and how we looked was for ourselves. We weren’t trying to impress any boys, and we were surely not looking to get hollered at. Thea was not having it; she flipped them off.
Instead of using a vulgar hand gesture, I rolled my eyes and faced my back to them. I could ignore them just fine. I voiced my opinion. “I don’t understand why everyone likes them.”
Letting herself be frustrated for a few minutes, Thea waited to insert her thoughts. Finally, she said, in reference to the other students, “It’s because they don’t have brains and need people to idolize. They don’t have anything better to do apparently.”
Luca lamented. “They’re all good looking, something I wish I could be.”
“No way! You have Italian looks and that makes you unique and way better than any of those jerks could ever be. Not to mention your fun personality. There’s nothing that no one wouldn’t love about you,” Thea reassured him.
I nodded in agreement with her and ruffled Luca’s hair affectionately. The musical chime of the school bell rang, and everyone shuffled inside the school building where we could take off our outerwear and store them in our lockers and headed to our respective classes. This year, my closest friends were lucky to get the same class, while I was stuck by myself in the room next door. As introverted as I was though, I did manage to befriend a few classmates, Rika and Gaia, in which I could discuss small matters, like how difficult the previous assignment was and if we understood what our teachers were talking about in their lectures. Our conversation was cut off by the sound of heels on the finished wood floor. Every student turned away from what they had been momentarily giving their attention to and stood up in front of their assigned desks to greet the professor, the chairs scraping the ground. In unison, we said, “Good morning, Parthenia.”
“Morning, class. I hope we are all doing well today on a Monday.”
The class simply nodded, and Parthenia returned the motion. Before starting her mathematics lesson right away like she usually did, my teacher cleared her throat for an announcement. “While she is not moving away, I am a bit sad to say that Cherie will not be here with us next year, as she will be a foreign student in America. Care to tell us where in America?”
“The east coast.”
My peers’ heads turned to face me, and I forced down the instinct to run away from the attention. Addressing no one in particular, I added, “New York.”
The room politely clapped, and some of my classmates wished me a good year abroad and other similar sentiments. Erik gave me a sneer and mouthed something I didn’t catch. Already put off by what happened in the courtyard, I didn’t bother to acknowledge him. Satisfied with my simple answer, the professor turned towards the white board and began her morning lesson, much to my relief. Math was one of my better subjects; I had received top scores on all our exams this year due to my diligence in class and at home. However, we were currently learning about uniform motion, something I didn’t have much taste for. I would have tuned the lecture out, but remembering my father’s wishes for me to do well at all times, I stopped myself from getting distracted and took notes like a good student would. Forty-five minutes went by quickly, and by the end of class, I was ready to get out of my seat and stretch my legs. A different bell rang, and students eagerly got up to go talk to other friends during the five-minute break. Parthenia packed up her teaching materials and left the classroom, preparing the desk and board for a different teacher to come in. I slumped down in my chair before I got up to walk around. Luca and Thea ran inside the room amid me doing so. “YOU’RE GOING TO AMERICA?! YOU DIDN’T TELL US,” they both screeched.
I groaned and rubbed my ears, hoping that my eardrums hadn’t shattered because of their high pitches. “I was going to wait to tell you over summer break.”
Was it that big of a deal that I was supposed to tell them right away? Or maybe I was downplaying things. I tended to do that.
Thea jumped onto my back and squealed- how she did that in a skirt I could never understand. “Wait?! You should’ve told us right away, especially when I thought you were going to chicken out.”
I grunted in the effort it took to hold her up but dropped her off onto a nearby desk. “No, I didn’t chicken out. For once in my life, I wanted to do like you suggested and get out of my comfort zone.”
It seemed out of character for me, but I was glad. I still remembered the day that Thea convinced me to sign up to be an foreign student.
It was the beginning of the year, and Thea, Luca, and I had just become accustomed to being separated into different classes. We learned to not be so miserable without each other. It was also around the end of the day, when students had just been dismissed and were rushing to get off school grounds. Knowing the rigorous education system, half of those students would be heading home to study, and knowing the intense party scene, the other half would do the same, except textbooks and assignments would be replaced with blown up group chats and social media. I still hung around, slowly packing up my bag and leisurely exiting my classroom. Luca was presumably off to hang out with a girl he had shown us a picture of earlier that day, so Thea was impatiently waiting for me outside. As I joined her before she could yell at me for being a snail, I noticed a colorful poster that hadn’t been there before. Its bright colors distracted me, but they did their job because I was lured in to find out what was on it. Before I could focus on the headline, my best friend turned to me excitedly. “There’s an opportunity to study abroad!”
I took the time to zone in on the big bold words: “Norwegian Students May Come Study Abroad!” It was a basic title, but it communicated the idea.
“You should totally sign up for it.”
Curiosity took a hold of me, so I bent down to read the small font underneath the stock photo of a boy in Los Angeles and a girl in Paris having the time of their lives. Couldn’t they find a better picture? Leaning back up, I cocked my head to the side and furrowed my eyebrows at Thea. “Why don’t you sign up? It seems like you’re more fit to go out of the country for a year than I am.”
She shook her head. “As much as I would love to leave Norway for a time, I’ve been too spontaneous lately- if that’s possible. I just want to settle down before we head to university or work.”
I was baffled. Thea usually took any chance to do something different, but this time, she was telling me that I should be the one to. Continuing, she said, “Besides, you’ve always wanted to step out of your bubble. Studying abroad would let you do that. Go big or go home, right?”
Personally, I would’ve chosen to go home, but her words, mixed with the thoughts that I had at the time, made for a convincing argument. Deciding to not be the same person I always was, I took out a pen from my tote bag and printed my name and email onto one of the dotted lines on the sign-up sheet next to the poster. I hadn’t consulted with my parents yet, but I was going to find a way to convince them to let me go.
I got called into the advisor’s office later that week to discuss where I wanted to study abroad and to receive some papers that a parent or guardian had to sign. There was one city that was foremost in my mind: New York. Juilliard, one of the best performing arts schools, was there, and even though I wouldn’t be out of secondary/high school for a couple years, as a passionate singer, I wanted to be nearby it. I would be able to motivate myself to follow my dreams and nurture my talents, even if I was only going to be in America for a year. Norway just seemed too confining. Going home with those papers that day felt like carrying a burning book, just like Liesel had in the Book Thief; it almost felt forbidden. I knew my father wouldn’t be receptable to the idea of me leaving the country and living on my own (not really), so I kept the forms to myself until I saw my mother. I felt guilty for not even telling my sister about where I planned to go and what I planned on doing, but I didn’t want to risk her telling anybody anything.
By the time my mother got home from the restaurant, which was earlier than my father, I tiptoed into the kitchen to see her laid back in a chair, sipping on black tea and reading some poetry book. I didn’t want to disturb the perfect picture of serenity, but I took a deep breath and took a seat across from her, laying out the papers across the small, circular kitchen table in a fan. “Hi, Mom.”
She looked up slowly and gave me a warm smile. “Hello, dear.” It took her a moment to notice what I had set down, but when she did, she set down her teacup and bookmarked her page. “What are these?”
“They’re forms for you to sign. . . for me to study abroad in New York next year.”
Her eyes widened at my answer, and she picked up the first few permission slips. I went on. “They only need one parent to sign them, and they’re due by the end of the month, along with the fees, which I can cover.”
All I had to do was convince her to sign. The money wasn’t much of a worry because throughout my life, I had worked weekends at the restaurant and got paid. It was a fairly good income- enough to pay for the fees and other things I needed in America. My mother pursed her lips. “Does your father know about this?”
“No.” And I wasn’t planning on telling him. He would’ve denied me the minute I brought the topic up, and going to New York was something I was determined to do. It seemed that my mother understood that too, because she offered her hand out to me for a pen. I handed her the utensil, and she subsequently looked through the forms, signing each dotted line. I held my breath, waiting for there to be some catch. There wasn’t any. After signing everything, my mother looked up. The look in her eyes was undecipherable, and I was surprised when she leaned forward to give me a hug. “I know that you would find your own way to go, so I might as well let you. You are your mother’s daughter, and when I was your age, I didn’t want to be tied down either.”
I pulled away to look her straight in the eyes. “You know there are more reasons than that.”
“There always are. But I don’t need to know them yet- only when you’re ready.”
The feeling of Thea’s hand on my shoulder pulled me out of the memory. “I’m so happy for you!”
Luca seemed ecstatic as well. “Definitely. This also means we get to throw a going away party for you!”
Thea gasped (rather dramatically, I might add) and clasped Luca’s hands. “Best. Idea. Ever.”
Not wanting the two to take anything too far, I interrupted them. “You guys don’t have to. . . Really.”
My two friends shook their heads. “Cherie, if you’re going abroad for a year, you need a party.”
Well, I guess I was trying to be more extroverted. Now would be a time to start before I hauled myself to America. After more pleading from Luca and Thea, I agreed, with the condition that they would keep it small. Once again, my friends cheered, but before they could discuss their party planning with me, the bell rang, indicating that five minutes was over. They exited the classroom whispering excitedly to each other, coming up with who knew what. The chattering in the hallways ceased, and students filed into the classroom, followed by Ellinor, who taught dreadful history. Her lesson was the most boring of the day, as she droned on and on about historical conditions and how they influenced society in the time period. The content probably would have been interesting outside of school, but a bad teacher could make even the most exciting subjects dull. The rest of the day passed me by, and even though I had been hesitant in letting my best friends throw me a party, the idea of it still buzzed in my mind. I was excited.
