Upcoming 2015 Team A.C.T.S Essay Competition and Math Challenge

Winner of A.C.T.S Singapore Essay Writing Competition 2014

Congratulations to Abigail Lee  for winning the 1st prize in A.C.T.S Essay Writing Competition 2014.

Abigail Lee

Your memory of a place you visited as a child.

A gust of wind shoves past me, carrying the tinny sound of children laughing with it.  I grasp my mother's hand tighter, shivering in frosty autumn daylight. Walking towards the park, the small carnival, I see that it is empty.  Almost, at least. The barest of minimums of children mill around, drifting from carousel to miniature train to balloon twisting clown, who seems to be enjoying watching the children watch him with fearful anticipation, waiting and watching, wincing, hoping that the snap of burst rubber will never come.

My mother drags her toddler and her infant forward, letting go of my reluctant hand to hold my brother closer, shooing me off to 'enjoy' the dark carnival, cleverly concealing undiscovered phobias and twisted fantasies.

My childish eyes prick with the beginning of tears and my nose pinches with acidic twangs as my mother walks away to nurse baby with his formula milk.  My small feet clad in pink frilled socks and Mary-janes, shift back muffling to the train. "I could try the train,” I tell myself. "Be a brave warrior princess.” I think as I board the small, roofless caboose. I held my small head high with as much regality as a five year old could as I approached the darkened tunnel.

I stumbled out of the caboose near wheezing. Too tight, too dark, too concaved for my liking.  Seeing my mother holding my brother’s hand and waving it at me, I seared myself for the next ride. I’d show that pasty baby I was superior.

Clambering onto a metal, crudely spray-painted horse, I buckled myself into place, looking at the other children fumbling with their own harnesses with unadulterated pride. I looked back at my mother and brother sitting on a wooden bench and frowned. The child was laughing. Mocking me. How dare he? I frowned and looked forward, grasping the glided (plastic) pole in front of me, grouchily slouched over the fake horse bobbing up and down to what I had identified as the star wars theme. Strange choice of tune for a campy carousel ride for three-to-nine years old. After three rotations, the ride jerked to a stop, a bored lisp ringing through the speakers telling the passengers we could ‘exit to the left, parents please collect your children’ I stifled a cackle. Parents? Who needed them, I thought as I strutted past the exit gate and the pair still on the wooden bench.

I jogged on through the smallish displays looking at rows and rows of carved pumpkins with blown out candles resting inside, a foul-smelling petting zoo that seemed more dung and hay than actual animal, swerved stealthily past the clowns and stopped at the piece-de-résistance.

The dunk tank.

I watched as youngsters lobbed their Technicolor balls at the wooden target, missing constantly while the man in the tacky wetsuit sat above the huge transparent tank filled with what had to be below zero temperature in the candy-corn air, rife with biting winds and tickling breezes. He patronizingly jeered at the children sarcastically and babyishly crying,”Aw, that’s too bad kiddo! You tried. Maybe next time, eh?” or “Yeah, sport! Don’t be a sore loser, oh no, don’t cry! Ah, there’s mummy. There he goes a-running. See ya, Junior!”

I tingled in excitement. Oh yes, I remembered my father playing ball with me. Learning how to pitch baseball unlike the ones those fools were trying with. I was trained for this moment.

I walked up to the boy distributing the balls and sent him my most charming innocent smile, waiting for my three tries. I took the balls and trotted to the platform. I raised my ball-filled fist. I closed an eye, aimed and launched.

The ball fell flat.

I glared and snapped my teeth at the laughing man on the ledge. After a snarky remark about my feisty attitude, I launched another. Too far right. I began to get irritated. I could hear his mocking and my eyes began to fill with angry tears. The feeling of being surrounded by clowns and parents and china doll prizes were all watching mw with pity and second-hand embarrassment began to weigh down and squeeze my throat. My hand clenched tighter around the ball as a strange, Caucasian woman I had never seen before cried out to me,” It’s ok, sweetie, you tried your best, that’s all that matters!” It wasn’t any of her business, I thought as I opened my mouth to suck in as much breath as I could. I let out a ferocious grunt-yell-wail as I threw my ball to the ground and stomped my foot.

The ball bounced with the sheer might my tantrum had burst with and reflected off the dirt ground to hit the target square in the middle. The man on the ledge stopped laughing, halted by survival instincts to breathe before he plunged into the chilly water.

I smiled in pure triumph as parents and children alike applauded me, and I heard my mother rushing towards me with the baby, congratulating me and peppering kisses on my head.

“See baby, look! Your big sister won a pumpkin! Wow, isn’t she the best?” she cooed at the baby.  He giggled back and clapped. “Yes, child” I thought proudly as my child-arms wrapped protectively around the gourd, “I am superior.”

A.C.T.S. Essay competition Semi final

Melissa Goh

A Day at the Market

The cat yawned. Routine has conditioned her to somewhat realize that it was time
to move along or risk being shoed away. The sound of hawkers speaking loudly and
boldly was a sure sign of the end of its slumber. A sound of crates collapsing followed by
a long colorful string of ‘hokkien’ vulgarities could be heard. Yet the morning was still in
its youth. The air smelled of trees and the temperature remained cool. The fish monger
smiled to himself. He was one of the few men at his age that still appreciated and looked
forward to these times of the mornings. The years have not hardened him or have it?
Although the first customers who mostly consisted of aging middle aged
housewives have not yet arrived the bustle that surrounded the market was a forerunner to
the coming stampedes. Already crates were being moved and slabs of raw meats were
being proportionally cut and hung, fishes were being arranged in neat rows for
the customers’ inspections. Fruits were bring sprayed with water to give them the ‘fresh’
look and a couple of suspiciously bruised fruits were being strategically placed behind
better looking ones.
Alas time began to fly and the first of the weary looking customers began to
arrive. Weariness accompanied by sleepiness was no handicapped to these hardcore
bargain hunters. A single expression accompanied everyone of these would be shoppers.
It was the look of the expect haggler. The hawkers and sellers grimaced their teeth in
anticipation of these bold and seasoned hawks. Loudly and shamelessly these women
would condemn the expensive and embrace the cheap. These women could smell a
gimmick a mile away and out talk these poor men who spent most of their lives chopping
meat for these hagglers.

Long hours of business flew by. Waves and waves of customers poured in, from
the simple errand boy to the unscrupulous housewives who demanded nothing but the
cheapest and the best, Long unchained melodies of words and dialects flooded the
marketplace adding to the boisterous nature of the environment. When fully
contemplated, it was life itself. Without the market, there would be no life to many.
Perhaps not life as we know it. Good old-fashioned shop owners who knew every
customers by name and discounts could be bargained. Perhaps the very reason why old
timers who used to visit marketplaces boycotted the newly and quickly growing chains of
supermarkets. Those sterile, unfriendly and unnaturally cold places where a young boy
who was supposed to be in school was logging your purchases and the prices were shown
onto an electronic display.

Alas, a day at the market.

ACTS ESSAY COMPETITION 4th Quarter Final!

Please put your hands together and let's welcome the 4th Quarter Final

theme of the ACTS Essay Writing Competition

 
4th Quarter Final theme: Continuous Writing Story

Entry opens 01/08/2014 and closes on 16/08/2014.

Do send in your entry early to "iloveessay@gmail.com".

Late submission will not be entertained.

*Only winners from the past quarter are allowed to take part. 

Winners of 32nd theme:Bad Habits

1st: Elsie, TKGS

Bad Habits

It stood there. A small and unattractive puny creature.

Despite this, it had a Glasgow grin of a Cheshire Cat-promising many great things.

Great things to be worked on. Great things to be aimed for. Great things to be accomplished.

An attractive smile indeed.

Stretching from ear to ear, unnaturally wide and showing.

The art of well accomplished magnetism.

Magnetism so great, attracting scores of victims. Willing to learn, willing to grow, willing to be berated, willing to suffer. And suffering brought it the will to stretch.

Stretch and occupy. Stretch and occupy.

“Never leave me alone.”

The tide of victims never stopped,always approaching, pushing and impatient to reach it. Through this, it got power. The 

Power.

They worshipped it, kissed it, washed its feet, fell on their knees bowing and mumbling incoherent praises.

Authority.

They named it, asked for its help. They knew it could, and surely it would.

Strength.

The strong illusion they had. The misleading interpretation they had.

And through these, it rejoiced.

Power. Authority. Strength.

The opposite of good, the innocent.

And it grew, slowly but surely.

“Grow, grow…aid it with some silver and gold…provide ‘em slaves and make it whole…”

The chants increasing in intensity, in volume and numbers.

Grow, grow. Grow my little one, grow.

Like a faun to a stag.

Like a caterpillar to a butterfly.

And along with it, the grin grew.

Wider, wider. Those teeth. Beautifully aligned, straight and perfect.

It reached for the sky. It was there. The goal.

To be worked on. To be aimed for. To be accomplished.

It was bliss. Heavens. Like the simple blessings in life, worth living for.

A heavenly demon.

“Is it really?”

“True bliss?”

“You would call this blasphemy happiness?”

Everything faltered, like the sudden flash of the television screen. The failed static and abrupt surprise.

The uneven rhythm was growing with each breath.

“You choose.” It rasped, malicious grin oddly fixed.

“Between those two. Them, or me.”

And thus the two conclusions were simple.

FOR IT:

And so it repaid. It gave back everything it could provide. For only the loyal ones…oh yes, it did.

It made sure to. It never went back on its word. It dislikes depts and hence it paid them off.

Bright, livid colors. It was beautiful, an euphoric high of treasured happiness.

Face flushed, a shining complexion.

A morbid fascination.

Like a small kitten discovering the outside world for the first time.

Happiness?

Is this…real happiness?

Does it really bear the fruits of goodness?

No.

Nothing but an illusion. Nothing but an illusion.

FOR THEM:

The crowd flowed away, pushing through the burning gates of Hell. They left.

Not a single glance was spared, not a single tear was shed.

The clock turned, seconds ticked and hours flew.

The single drop of rain, the breeze winding through the grass, caressing the broken petals of fallen flowers.

A silence which is not of King Midas’ property.

The teeth were disappearing, bit by bit, covered up with quivering lips.

Lips which once stretched so far and wide.

Like a single survivor in a bloody battlefield.

Like the ugly duckling cursed to never grow.

Like the dying bird in a iron cage for display.

Desolated, despaired, abandoned and alone.

Returning back to the plain creature it was. Shrinking, slowly but fast.

The degradation, the humiliation.

The high shrieks when it fell from the tallest tower it once strutted on.

The cruelty of loneliness.

More than one can handle. More than one can think of.

The cold wind blowing its tangled mane into its eyes.

It shook. It fell over itself, shivering in agony.

Choking on its own tears, unseen and trampled by countless oblivious feet.

Thunders roared and lightning shouted.

Conceal. Conceal. Conceals itself far beneath originality.

Hiding. Shamed and embarrassed.

Like a plant left on the shelf unwatered in the burning heat.

It was dying, rotting.

No longer a thing that existed.

Not a trace at all.

Not even the sound of the final desperate scream.

Blown into nothing.

Nothing.

XXX

When you have a bad habit…

Do you feed it?

Or do you ignore it?

A bad habit is like a plant on the shelf.

Left uncared for, it will die.

Water it, and it will strive.

You choose to reign over it, or it reigns over you.

A fight is unnecessary, the struggle is useless.

The best is to never give it an opportunity to grow.

And it will turn to nothing.

2nd: Priya Lakshmi, 16, TKGS

I am Alpha Centauri

I look up from my balcony to see Alpha Centauri,twinkling about the dark,stygian night sky.  He told me that the light from this star came from thousands of years ago. For all I know, this star could be dead now. But, there is this familiar sense of poignancy when I look up to it. It was because of this star that I attempted to change.Has there been any change in me? It seems ridiculous to think that I have gotten over it. Gotten over THE habit.

It wasn’t but six weeks ago when my secrets were spilled.I spilled it. He made me spill it. It felt like being skinned.It was a painful ordeal; a part of me stripped bear for my parents to know what was going on.

Glass shattered.Lips trembled. “For the sake of God, what got into you? Oh my poor baby.Why didn’t you just tell me? Tell your mother…”

Tears flowed freely; a valley of emotions poured out to cleanse the soul and start anew. All because of him – my blessing, my curse. My Dylan. My aggravatingly good looking, quick-witted, 6’3 Dylan. His sparkling blue eyes; always bright,always brimming with honesty. He asked me and I told him.  I had to tell him. It was either that or delving even more into THE habit. Self-inflicted wounds. My bad habit. Yes, it may seem stupid but it seemed like a better outlet compared to spending agonising nights without sleep. Muffling my sobs into my tear-stained pillows.

Tasting my own salty tears. Just wanting to feel happy. Happiness which I thought I can never get.  He saw the scars on my thighs. I had that gut feeling to not wear shorts that day but I did anyway because who am I kidding, Singapore is really hot. I had made it a point to put concealer on the pale pink lines that stretched across my upper thighs but that didn’t really work out that well. Dylan had wanted to meet me at the park behind his housing area because he wanted to tell me something important. And so I made my way to him but not before feeling sick to the stomach, looking myself in the mirror, feeling dreadful as always. It was impossible to not notice my flabby arms and large thighs and the folds of my stomach.  I set those thoughts aside and set out to meet Dylan. All I kept thinking about that evening was that I have never seen him as preoccupied and fidgety as I had then.

“Dylan,what is going on?”

“Well..It’s just..I think..umm”

“What,cat got your tongue? Because I am relatively free today. Maybe I can help get your tongue back”

“Well,aren’t you a funny kitten. Okay, I had wanted to tell you this from the start of this year but I just didn’t have the guts. I like someone and I really want to be with this person. And

I’m planning on asking her out today.”

Silence. I was smiling but inside I am breaking down. My one, sole source of comfort is gone. Because having my parents divorced isn’t enough. Because having them fight day in and day out because of me isn’t enough. Because having teachers putting so much hope in me to do well in every exam and every competition isn’t enough. Because having to meet everyone’s expectations despite it being ridiculously tiring isn’t enough. Because never being able to feel content with the way I look or think or do things isn’t enough. Now, the one person who understood me is gone. Well, at least ‘that’ girl is a lucky girl.

“Oh, good luck then. She must be a very lucky girl,” I said, not recognising my own voice, suddenly surprised with the composure I had. He wasn’t looking at my eyes as I spoke. He looked at my thighs and I knew that I couldn’t put up a pretence anymore. This perfect wall that I had built is a goner. The look he gave me spoke thousands and seeing the concern in his eyes ripped me apart. I didn’t deserve it.

“You don’t deserve anything,” said that tiny voice in my head. “You will never be good enough. Never.” Mere words once uttered by my mother but boy did it cut so deep.

I collapsed in a heave and let it all out. He just held on to me and let me cry in his arms.

He coaxed everything out of me.And I told him. How I can’t even look my self in the mirror without feeling wretched.How everything my mother says keeps ringing in my ears. How everything feels like a blow to my stomach,knocking the air out of my lungs. How easy it would be to take all that pain away with just a slit across my wrist. My tears stained his denim shirt.

“Hey,look at me. Look me in the eyes.Yes,it may seem easy to just go away but did you ever think how it would be for me without you? What happened to the dream of becoming a paediatrician? You don’t want to help children anymore? And how can you be so daft?

You’re the girl. You’re the one I want to spend all my life with. You’re gorgeous and smart and you know me best.Never have I seen anyone as caring and honest as you. Just looking into your eyes makes me feel better. Makes me feel complete.Tessa, please stop doing this to yourself.You’re a strong girl.”

We sat there till nightfall. Holding hands. Lost in our own worlds. A lone star shone brightly.

“Hey Tessa.”

“Hmmm.”

“Did you know that the light from this star came from thousands of years ago? It’s Alpha Centauri. It is my favourite star. Do you know why?”

“No. Tell me why.”

“Because it reminds me of you. It is as bright as you are. It lights up the sky just like you light up my world. And its light never dims despite its distance. I want that to be you. I want to see you fight your demons, and pull through. I want to look at Alpha Centauri be reminded of the strong you. Put away your bad habit. Be a star.”

For him, I will be a star. I am Alpha Centauri.

3rd: Sonali D/O Anandan

Bad Habits

No one expected this horrendous habit to be the one to dig a grave for Elisa; earpiece that was the object that killed her. Of course there might be a doubt about how a simple mechanism could actually take someone’s life in reality. This bad habit started when Elisa got her special birthday present when she was 13. A smart phone paired with a pair of earpiece was her dream come true birthday present. Elisa felt on top of the world and over

joyous to be qualified as the modern teenager with a smart phone with her wherever she goes.  She started to download all her favourite and mainstream songs onto her phone. Her phone and her earpiece was her life companion. The one she breathed and lived with. Every single minute that was available was spent solely on listening to music with loud volume. Even after being reprimanded several times by both her parents and teachers, Elisa turned deaf ear to it. It was almost impossible to separate her from her phone and earpiece. One day this turned out to be a fatal habit for her.

It was a banal day for Elisa. The sun was beating hard on her making her perspiration crowd near her temples and ready to slide down. However, Elisa paid no attention to that and continued to plug her earpiece in her ears, the volume cranked up so high that even a passer by walking beside Elisa could hear the booming of the music. The passer by shot disapproving looks at her with keen eyes but Elisa was drowned in her own world of music

to notice the sign of warning.

Once, Elisa reached close to her house, she arched her neck and looked up at the sky, squinting as the sun rays were glaring at her. She took the decision of jay walking across the busy main street to reach the other side of the road instead of using the traffic signal to cross the busy road. This was not the first time that she tried jaywalking in a heavy traffic road. Hence she was careless enough to think that accidents would not occur at roads such

as the one she was crossing.

Little did Elisa know her end was approaching and there was not anything that she could do to save herself. She browsed through her vast collection of music to keep herself occupied while crossing the road. Moreover, Elisa cranked up the volume even louder, enough to shut down the sound of the world. The empty road before was now being filled by fast approaching cars that just whiz past you.

There it came; the car kept accelerating towards Elisa until there was no chance for it to slow down and stop before it could hit Elisa. Only high pitched screeching sounds of the wheels were heard before the still environment was filled with Elisa’s horrified screaming as she went flying through the air dropping a few meters away from where the car hit her.

Shock filled faces surrounded around Elisa’s body which was spread out as if it was a doll chewed up by a ferocious creature. Help was called but it was to no avail as Elisa was painfully taking her final gasp of air before her eyes became soulless… It was too late now and forever for Elisa to realize her deadly mistake and her bad habit…

EXTENTION!

Dear aspiring writers,

Wonderful news to all! The date line of the submission has been extended to 18 July 2014. Continuing to send in your wonderful essays before 18/7/2014 to "iloveessay@gmail.com"

Winners for the theme: Betrayal

1st: Luo Wen

Hilson Nim curled up into a ball, sat at one corner of the dim room and began crying his eyes out. On the floor, the bills were scattered messily around as the light flickered untimely. He was at the end of his tether already, the debts from his gambling problem snowballed into a hot mess. He had no one to turn to, his parents had sworn to break all ties with him. Now, it was just the lonely him battling against the fate of bankruptcy.

He suddenly heard the door opening. “Brother,” the man at the door cried out. Hilson stared at his beloved younger brother Jason Nim with those inordinately ruddy eyes. Jason was Hilson’s blood-related younger brother. When the whole world was against Hilson, Jason was the sole person who continue to be on his side. Jason visited Hilson fortnightly with his parents in the dark, much to Hilson’s comfort.

Jason dropped the groceries bags and scampered over to the tear-ridden fellow. He took notice of the bills on the floor and his lips trembled. “Brother, we will settle these debts together!” Their fingers interlocked as the warmth lingered in each other’s heart. Hilson sighed with despair and stood up wobbly, so did Jason. “Brother, I have an idea.” Jason suggested and Hilson raised his eyebrows. Jason leaned closer and whispered something into Hilson’s ear. Hilson’s eyes dilated.

*

Hilson’s hand wobbled as he picked up the new cheap mobile phone he had just brought. He bit his lips. “Once this phone call is dialed, there’s no turning back.” He muttered to himself. His fear augmented like never before. It was a new stage of horror and apparently his physical body couldn’t handle the pressure. “Brother, just do it. Trust me, everything will be alright.” Jason’s voice was hoarse and shaking as he placed his hand on his older brother’s shoulder for reassurance. Hilson forced a curl of his lips, but the relief was so hollow that he could crumble down anytime. He hesitated and stared the mobile phone once again uncertainly. “I’m ready, Brother.” Jason said.

*

The office lights were switched off and not a soul was seen working. Mr Nim, the father of the Jason and Hilson, shut the door which was imprinted with the word ‘CEO’ and walked out, preparing to go home when his mobile phone rang saliently among the eerie silence of the dimmed room. He checked the caller ID, but it stated ‘Unknown’. He picked it up.

*

“Dad! Dad! Help me, I am kidnapped!” cried Jason as he groaned. The menacing laughter then shadowed over the whimpers of Jason. “What’s up, Mr Nim?” Hilson bellowed, voice deceptively firm and arrogant. Jason looked concernedly at Hilson whose voice was shaking terribly. Hilson pursed his lips and gritted his teeth nervously. He felt overwhelmingly guilty for doing this, but he was in dire straits. Jason’s hand held Hilson’s, and he gave an reassuring look. “Go on,” his mouth moved silently. “We need to get Father’s money.” Hilson closed his eyes and sucked in a big breath before he cleared his throat.

*

Mr Nim nearly had a heart attack as he used the wall for support. His breaths quickened and he couldn’t believe a single syllable he was hearing. However, at a situation like this, all he needed was to keep calm and agitate the kidnapper. “What…what do you want?” he enquired and fiddled with his fingers fearfully.

“Money, of course. Drop $35 000 in the Gillton Park’s rubbish bin beside the entrance and go. Your son will come back 2 hours later. If you contact anyone else, prepare to hear the last scream of your son.” came the reply. The line then went dead.

The night was chillingly cold.

*

Hilson fell on his knees and stared into space. Everything seemed like a blur to him. His actions were incredulous, even to himself. “Brother, good job.” Jason complimented. He frowned and walked to the window and gazed upon the moonless sky. They waited in an abandoned house in a remote location, waiting for the arrival of time.

Hilson stood up in a blur. “Is this right?” he asked. The hoarse voice alerted Jason who was immersed in the beauty of the sky. “It is too late already, isn’t it?” Jason replied and paced forward. “It’s not, it’s never too late.” Hilson clenched his fists. “I can’t drag you down with me, Jason. I can go forward and confess that it was a one-man doing.” Hilson said, much to the dismay of Jason. “Or, you can stick to the plan. You get the money, I return to Father and convince him not to pursue the matter. We promised to be in this together, you won’t betray the promise, right?” Jason forced a smile after saying that. He was a bundle of nerves, and he tried all his might to conceal the fact that he was scared too. Hilson allowed the question go unanswered.

“I will go outside for a walk. Stay here.” Hilson said and shut the door.

*

Mr Nim held on to the pack of money dearly as he hurried to Gillton Park. Then, he swiftly dropped the money into the rubbish bin as told. He succumbed easily, losing his son wasn’t an option. “He better uphold his promise,” muttered Mr Nim before he took his leave.

*

Hilson had a destination. He started running. He ran past the park, the rubbish bin. He had made up his mind. He couldn’t err anymore, so he decided to stop before everything explodes by nipping it in the bud. He arrived at the police station, sweating like a horse. “I’m sorry, Brother.”

*

Jason waited but Hilson had never came back. He called his phone, but to no avail. He knew what Hilson could have possibly done, but he was too afraid to think about it. He stood up and ran to the police station too. He had a glimmer of hope that he could thwart him as he approached the counter.

“Did someone by the name of Hilson Nim come here?” He asked, wishing the answered would be a negative. “Erm..yes we did, just not long ago. He confessed to a crime and claimed to had done it alone. Is there a problem?” Jason’s worst fears came true.

*

Hilson did not betray his brother, but he betrayed something even more important. He betrayed the promise Jason and him had made. Jason’s face went pale as he seethed in anger. “How can you…” Jason’s eyes began to well as he bit his lips. He deliberated. “Since you betrayed me first…”

He looked at the officer at the counter. “I would like to confess to a crime.”

2nd: Nicole

Piles of worksheets were sent flying to the ground like the autumn leaves, leaving Andy sitting in the midst of the devastation, sighing to himself while carefully bending over to pick them up.

“Not again…” mumbled the anonymous people who strolled by, peeking over their shoulders as they watched Andy clear up the mess. Way ahead a young boy hollered, “Eat my crap, Andy!” while sticking his tongue out in mockery. Andy briskly walked away miserably, with his head down, to his “quiet corner” in the canteen while dwelling in self misery and rubbing the sore spot on his elbow where he used to break his fall after being jostled out of the way by Roger.

Just a year ago, well 351 days to be exact, Roger and Andy were a newly formed duo, like two peas in a pod. Not only did they look alike, they spoke alike and even dressed alike, and even liked the same things. Those who did not know would have thought that they were twins. If they were dashing and sporty like the other boys, girls would have surged onto them and showered them with attention. However, they were both avid readers and were very fond of baking. While the boys were anxiously racing after the soccer ball, Andy and Roger would sit on the benches and read their favourite “Divergent” trilogy.

The worst part was, the both of them liked the same girl – Raechel, as well.

Raechel sat in front of both of them in math class back in grade 8, and since then, both of them have been immensely in love with her.

Also, to the most popular and boisterous clique in the school, these two geeky boys were definitely on their list of “most played”. There was nothing wrong, of course, with being studious but to the clique, they were an outcast, a lower race, like a bunch of cattails in the midst of a bouquet of lavenders – they just didn’t fit in.

To everyone in the school, Andy was a reserved and well-mannered boy and so was Roger. Despite being constantly bullied by the clique of popular guys, they merely ranted and consoled each other that their seniors were simply being playful. For the following months, insults got harsher and the physical abuse got stronger. The more the boys gave in, the stronger the bullying got. They say “give an inch and they’ll take a mile”.

“ANDY! LISTEN TO ME!” exclaimed Roger and a wave of superiority and authority took over the atmosphere. Roger desperately tried to explain to Andy that they should not take it laying low but instead fight back. To Roger, it was the only way they would be able to set out of their current predicament. On contrary, to Andy, one should be forbearing and not blow matters up.

On the three hundredth and forty eighth day, Andy received a well decorated card, embellished with pretty ribbons and fancy fonts. It read “Hey Andy, see you at the soccer field at 9pm. Love, Raechel.” Andy’s mouth was agape, tears were welling in his eye sockets, he leapt with joy and screamed. He could finally be close to Raechel, the girl he had always wished was his. For months, he had been dropping notes in her locker and sending her flowers and chocolates, hoping to one day catch her attention. However, he knew, she was smitten with Roger, who too had a hopeless crush on her since the beginning of the term.

Sensing that something was amiss, Andy carefully threaded towards the soccer field. Before his eyes, was Raechel, weeping sorrowfully. Despite knowing that Roger and Raechel had been “together” since last month, he raced over to her and threw a bear hug onto her. He felt triumphant and jubilant as he thought that he could take the chance to win her heart.

Twenty metres away stood Roger, appalled and furious, who raced over and threw a heavy punch onto Andy cheek. Outraged by the actions of Andy, he threw countless of punches against bench, baring the whites of his knuckles which instantly became red.

“Betrayer!” bellowed Roger, who was close to breathing fire.

“True shame, Andy. What a great friend you are.” whispered Tom, into Andy’s ear before breaking out into chuckles of laughter again.

Andy stumbled away carelessly, holding onto the bruised spot on his cheek.

The entire series of events came too quickly to Andy who was still completely taken aback. When he regained his composure, he then realised that Tom had put their friendship to a test and in the meanwhile took the chance to break up the duo. He was engulfed in regret and shame as he sprawled against the cold, hard wall of his dormitory. Flashbacks of the times he had spent with Roger in the past 342 days and broken trust and friendship they had fostered along the months. Andy knew, no amount of apologies could patch their strained relations and no amount of guilt could make up for the lost friend.

All of these came to naught.

3rd: Amoz Low Xu Jie

I was once a refined and handsome boy. I was adored by many, in fact too many. I was praised by many people for my good behavior. I always thought that real beauty lies in our hearts, like our parents who care so much for us, like God who loved us so much that he gave us his only son. I thought everyone thought the same, until one fateful day, when I ran into an accident.

The accident left a huge scar across half of my face, which needed 40 stitches. Many of my friends were standing outside of the examining room, waiting anxiously for me. Though I was sad, I knew I would always be beautiful to my friends. When I was pushed out, I said to them,

“I’m alright, I’m fine. God gave me another chance! My wonderful friends, I’m alright!”

“Friend? How could I be your friend when you look like this? People would think I’m crazy if I’m close friends with you”, they replied curtly and left after that. I was devastated and at the same time disappointed and hurt at my friends’ reaction. Father and mother tried to comfort me but I could not help it but cried for days.

I was always being bullied every day since then. Of course, some people still care for me. I soon decided that I try to prove my friends wrong about their vision of me. I tried topping the class, asking the teacher more questions and helping my friends with their homework but to no avail. Soon, once again, I met with another accident, this time, I had finally proven them wrong.

One Friday afternoon, I headed to the bus-stop to wait for my bus. I saw my once “closed” friend, Michael, who had betrayed me by distancing himself from me since my accident. He was walking across the road, engrossed with his phone. All of a sudden, a car came rushing in round the corner. Shocked, I threw down my bag and bolted to the open road. I pushed him aside with all my might and took the hit. I flew into the air and landed on my head. Michael, traumatized for a moment, called for the ambulance. Soon the ambulance arrived. The paramedics quickly but carefully lifted me onto a stretcher and rushed me to the hospital.

Hours later, I was pushed out of the emergency room. I was once again surrounded by the same group of friends who had shunned me earlier due to my new ugly look. This time, however, guilt was written all over their faces.

“I never thought you still cared for me. Thanks so much for saving me!” Michael exclaimed. The rest of my friends were also guilty for shunning me and apologized to me.

“So long as you know that beauty lies in the heart, I’ll forgive you,” I replied.

Now, as I looked back, I was glad my friends realized their folly and learnt a valuable lesson that will remain etched in their minds for a long time.