by Anh Van Pham

 

            “I’m gonna buy that camera off, Mr. Bailey,” Lawrence declared.

            “Can I have it since you have two?” I asked.

            “Not unless you become my sex slave.”

            “Why in the hell would I do something like that?!”

            “It was worth a shot,” Lawrence shyly answered.

            I rolled my eyes at his remark. “Can I have your old one then?”
            “You’ll have to pay me for it,” he said with a wink.

            “$10? $5?”

            He stared at me blankly waiting for my next suggestion. His eyes glowed in anticipation, waiting for my next amazing offer.
            “What if I slap Lloyd?”
            “That could be a part of the price.”
            “WhatifIkickedhimintheballs? Sethisafroonfire?” I asked in a jumbled mess.
            “That just might work,” Lawrence replied with a twinkle in his eyes.

            And with that, I walked out of sixth period Economics ten minutes into the class. It’s not like I needed that class. I took it last semester and passed with an A. You’re all probably wondering why I take time to visit a class instead of just going home? It’s my favorite pastime! I have turned a dull and tedious computer art class into a riot.

            “Do you remember what I said yesterday?” Lawrence asked tapping my shoulder.

            “Huh,” I said taking my earphone off. “What did you say?”

            “Hey you, pay attention when I talk to you!”

            “Hmm, whatever,” I replied putting my earphone back on.

            He stared at me with those beady eyes of his. I shrugged him off, since I was trying to finish my current art project.

            “Please talk to me,” he pleaded. The only response he got was the sound of the mouse clicking in my hand. He grabbed my sleeve and started shaking it.

            “What?!” I yelled. Everyone’s attention turned to us in the middle of the computer art class. Mr.Bailey tapped his foot slowly and cleared his throat.

            “Lawrence, take your stuff and go over to OCI!”

            “But… ,” Lawrence paused and looked at me. “Save me, please?” I shook my head and watched as he headed off to OCI defeated.   

            Have you figured it out yet? Yes, I love messing with this guy. There really isn’t anything else to do in computer art besides stare at a computer monitor and use the mouse to mess with photos in Photoshop. However I’ve found a little game that is quite entertaining. I may be a bitch for constantly picking on him, but hey he always comes back for more.

            “Why didn’t you save me yesterday?” Lawrence asked upon my arrival.

            “I didn’t want to.”

            “But I thought we were friends,” He said nervously.

            “Friends? Since when?” 

            “Umm since sophomore year.”

            I blinked a couple times trying to register this. “Really? I rarely came to that class.”

            “Well, you talked to me that one time and I just sort of considered you as a friend,”       Lawrence replied in haste.

            “Mhm, I see. You’ve mistaken my one act of kindness as friendship.”

            “Anyways… remember me asking you to be my sex slave?” He asked slowly making sure that I heard every word.

            Just as he was about to continue on, I cut him off.  “If I don’t consider us friends then what makes you think that I’ll even do that?”

            He began blinking his eyes as if it there was some debris caught. “Isn’t it enough that I love you?”
            “No,” I stared at him straight in the eye. “I don’t even like you. I just talk to you because you’re more interesting than everyone else here.”

            Ok, so I tend to pick on him a lot but hey there’s a reason behind this. He’s not the only one that I treat like this. I treat almost all my friends the same way. Most people see me as the quiet girl in the back (sometimes the front) of the class. I seem kind of a cold and close off kind of person, but that all depends on what my surroundings are. My friends obviously have a completely different opinion of me. Yet even they don’t want to be at the receiving end of these conversations. This guy isn’t really my friend more of an acquaintance and well he thinks he’s smarter than I am.

            “I have an answer to our economy problem,” Lawrence proudly declares.

            “What is it?” I asked routinely.

            “You know how the dollar bill is going down in foreign countries?”

            “No, it depends on which one you’re talking about.”

            “Umm… China?” He guessed

            “I don’t know, but what do you mean by going down.”
            “Isn’t the dollar worth less over there?” He was still guessing obviously.

            “No, guess again,” I stated.

            “Umm… Taiwan?” I shook my head slowly. “Korea, Japan, India… the Middle East?”

            “What is with this weird infatuation that you have with Asia?”

            He lightly coughed trying to gather his thoughts. “I was trying to figure out which one you came from.

            I scrunched up my face, lost by his explanation. “So what, you did all that to figure out what kind of Asian I am?”

            He pouted his lips and scratched his head. I figured he was trying to come up with a better explanation yet he came up with none. He shrugged his shoulders and went back to trying figure out how to turn a candid picture of his dog black and white on photoshop. There was a brief silence, but from the corner of my eyes I could see he was tempted to start up the conversation again. I caught him staring at me a few minutes later. He looked so guilty as if he had just robbed a bank.

            “What do you want?” I asked loudly.

            “Can I be your master?” Lawrence blurted.

            “Not this again,” I replied. “You don't even know what my nationality is.”

            His eyes brightened up as if a light bulb just went off. “If I figure out where you came from, then I can be your master?”

            “...” I started brainstorming in my head. How long has he known me again? Oh right, two years but it seemed more like one. I didn't talk to him at all junior year. I didn’t have a single class with him at all. I doubt he would ever figure out my country of origin. “Ok, if you figure out where I was born in the next twenty minutes, I'll be your sex slave.”

            And with that, all I heard was the rattling of the keyboard. Wait that's wrong, it was more of turtle speed typing. He literally types like ten words per minute and has no idea where any of the letters are on the keyboard. He can barely log into his email even though his screen name is his first and last name minus a space. He pulled up a map of Asia and started naming the countries around China.

            “Cambodia, Mongolia, Burma, Philippines, Russia?” He asked hurriedly.

            “Do I look Russian to you?” I retorted.

            “No… but since it's in Asia I thought why not give it a try.”

            I looked up the top right of the computer screen. “You have five minutes left. You better hurry up or else we'll just continue with our current routine.”

            His eyes sparked, “Wait, we have a routine? What is it?”

            “Umm, you ask me something random and five minutes later I'm picking on you. So in a sense I own your ass,” I said without a care.

            He held his arms out waiting for me to hug him and once again I was confused. “Hug me or else,” he tried to threatened.

            “I don't hug people that worship me. You have a minute left. You better figure it out soon, slave.”

            “Yes, Master!” He declared. He glanced over the map once more looking for a unique country.

            “Vietnam?”

            I laughed at him, but just then Mr. Bailey walks over. For the last hour, he had been surveying the room checking to see if the class was still on task mainly us. He overhears our conversation as he usually does.

            “Anh Van, you are Vietnamese. Lawrence won the bet for once.”

            “Actually no,” I said, taking a pause. “The question was where I was born not what race I am.”

            “You weren't born in Vietnam?” They both asked.

            I shook my head. “Nope. My parents were kicked out of Vietnam at the time so I was born in Thailand.” And with that the bell rang. I gathered all of my stuff and headed out of the classroom.

            “Anh Van! Wait up!” Lawrence yelled. “Wait up, Master.”