Secondary school

Surprisingly clearly. I was eleven, my uniform was two sizes too big because my mother insisted I'd grow into it, and I didn't know a soul, since all my primary school friends had gone to a different school. I remember standing in the yard for the opening ceremony, sweating under the September sun and pretending to know the school song. Physics was my weak spot. I could memorise the formulas, but the moment a problem involved a ball rolling down a slope, my brain shut down, and I scraped through mostly thanks to extra classes on Saturday evenings. Luckily I sat next to a girl called Ngan, who became my best friend. She explained physics to me and I did her English homework, a fair trade as far as we were concerned. We also shared a secret supply of green mango with chilli salt under the desk. I'd love to go back someday. I've heard they've knocked down the old canteen and built a new block, so it might not feel like my school any more, but I'd still like to find my old classroom.