Growing Up Asian in Australia Creative Story

I just had an enormous fight with my mother,
“I forbid you to ever go near the athletic track when you're under my roof.”
She didn’t take the news of my athletic training too lightly.
“You go back there, you're out! Out on the streets!”
I grabbed my runners and slammed the front door on her. When she was out of earshot, I started insulting her with every swear word I knew, in both English and Vietnamese. I started running as fast as I could, but I should stop there and explain the whole thing.

This morning I drifted between consciousness and sleep while everyone bustled around getting ready. They all get up so early and seem to stomp around the house for what feels like an hour before they finally leave. When the noise had subsided I managed to fall back asleep and woke up to my alarm and the foul smell of pho wafting from the kitchen. When I had dragged myself out of bed, I shuffled to the kitchen, enjoying the emptiness of the house. I like having it to myself in the morning, in fact I’d rather have it to myself most of the time, but my family never seem to leave. The house always feels so full. I unfolded and perched myself on one of the new kitchen stools my mum decided on. I picked out the pieces of chicken from the pho and threw away the rest of the noodle soup. I keep asking for something more edible for breakfast, like vegemite on toast, but mum insists that we eat our traditional cuisine.

I left for school, jogging to school is my favourite part of the day. There’s just something about jogging in the morning, I can taste the crisp air as I breathe in and the feeling of it whipping my face and legs wakes me up. I sat outside of the locker bay, I can’t stand going in there during ‘peak hour’, the stench, a combination of sweat, deodorant, and old food, makes me want to puke. There’s always that crowd of older girls staring at me with that look of disgust as I walk through the corridor with my shiny black hair held up in a bun with some chopsticks