When I was at my sharpest-tongued, most obnoxious age, my homeroom teacher begged me to sleep more and talk less.
I was so good at arguing back that I argued my homeroom teacher into the hospital and my PE teacher into canceling class.
Even my deskmate was driven into a corner by my comebacks.
Later, my dad transferred me to the most expensive private high school in the city.
My new homeroom teacher pointed to the empty seat beside a boy sleeping by the window and said:
"You'll sit next to Jiang Jinmian. He's the only son of a school board member, so don't disturb him while he's resting."
I walked over to the window, poked the boy's arm, and politely said,
"Excuse me, could you get up and let me in?"
The sleeping boy didn't move a muscle, so I tossed my schoolbag onto the seat.
I couldn't help muttering, "Are you a roast suckling pig from England? How can you sleep so much?"
With a quick turn, I vaulted right into my seat.
Whispers rose all around me.
"This new girl is done for. She actually dared to disturb Young Master Jiang's sleep!"
"I guarantee she won't last a week here."
"I'll bet three days!"
I sat
