An enormous sigh escaped my lips as I entered what was to be my second school in Scotland. One would think that after transferring schools a grand total of 6 times, spanning across three different countries, each in a different continent, starting a new school should be nothing more than a routine at this point, but it really was not so. The only familiar thing in this foreign school with its foreign corridors, its foreign classrooms and its foreign kids was that feeling of being an intruder, an outsider to this alien world. It did not matter that I could speak the same language or play the same games as they did; I was still the new kid. People tell me I should be glad, all this change gives me a chance to meet new people and see new things. But after a while, the word “new” gets pretty old. Cynical? Perhaps, but for someone like me, it borders closer to simply “truth”. It was to the point that starting a new school did not mark a new beginning, but rather a countdown until the day I would move on to the next destination.
The first ten minutes were a blur; just the average first-day-of school business. There was the typical old and short school secretary, with a mechanical smile that seemed as if some invisible contraception was holding up the corners of her mouth. “Welcome to James Gillespie’s!” she said with that high pitched voice, as if she truly cared that I had come to this school. She then briskly took me on the inevitable walk to my new classroom, complete with the irreconcilable sense of fearful anticipation gripping my heart like a relentless anaconda.

Before I knew it, the moment of truth had arrived: my first introductions to my class. From past experience, I knew first impressions meant everything to kids. It also meant to me how I would live my life for however long I would be here; would I be that kid who commands the attention of my peers, or the oddball always staring longingly at the crowd? There was a secret solution to this seemingly impossible equation, a way to seem confident but not haughty, calm but not aloof, and congenial but not foolish. I walked to the front of the class with poise, but once all twenty pairs of eyes stared at me, I froze. Fear and anxiety began to bubble and broil within me. I closed my eyes, unable to bear the prospect of loneliness and rejection, for no matter what I told myself otherwise, I was just a kid.
I took a deep breath, and opened my eyes. I desperately scanned the room for anything, something that would save me from months, maybe years of despair. Then my eyes were drawn to something on the right side of the room. The world seemed to hold its breath as I took in this breathtaking sight. It was an Asian girl, a sight rare in it of itself in Scotland, but she was also inhumanely beautiful. Her sleek black hair was like a clear night sky, pure and infinite. Her smooth skin gave off a luminous quality, and her marvelous eyes sparkled like the glistening stars in the sky. She was the mortal presence of Aphrodite, an angel from Heaven among the sinners; she simply was not human, and I paled in her divine light.
But at that moment, she must have seen the ridiculous and desperate features of my flushed face, for her petit pink lips began to slowly curl, and the world simply sighed. She had blessed me with a miracle, a single miracle that would be eternally engraved into my memory: her smile. It was a smile that overflowed with mirth and amusement, its warmth melting away my worldly concerns and discomforts. But the smile did not only affect me, but even changed the girl. It was as if the winter iciness of her perfection melted and washed away, leaving the spring cherry blossoms of her humanity to bloom.
My heart fell off the cliff of infatuation into a sea of love. Not only was she perfect, but she became imperfect by being more than perfect through her mortality. Even Narcissus would have looked away to gaze upon her smile. With this I resolved myself to head forward into the future, and began by giving a smile of my own to the class.
“Hello, my name is Charlie Kang…”
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Once lunch began, I immediately went to see that girl, though I did not what to say. Should I thank her? But for what, smiling at me? Or should I just not mention it at all? This whirlwind of thoughts blew away any other functions of my brain, and so I sat at my desk with my food untouched. I could have asked anyone for her name, but I wished to discover it on my own, it became a quest, a right to be earned, not given. But my courage failed me as time passed by, each second becoming more antagonizing than the last, until the school bell signaled the ending of the day. I held my head in shame, for while other kids may regard the end of the school day with the light-hearted joy, I was left with the heavy burden of failure.

Or so I thought, until I felt a light tap on my shoulder as I made my way towards the exit. When I turned around, it was no other than the very girl within my thoughts. It was funny how with just a simple tap she managed to utterly change my attitude. I was nothing but a coin to flip in her hands. I was ecstatic to have a chance to finally talk to her, but I soon realized that would never happen. She waved, and then offered her hand. I took it with zeal, but wondered why such a formal greeting? Afterwards she pointed at my face then giggled a giggle that just floated like a cloud. But the cloud was in the sky of confusion, for I was taken aback by this silent conversation. Then I realized that she would not speak. She had a voice, for I heard it in her laughter, but for whatever reason, she hid her voice. She instead took my hand once more, pointed to herself, and then drew three letters on my hand: M-A-I.