Unbalanced Accounts

November had arrived, and with it, the second semester. It had been six months since I started at this school, and I was still a failure at Thai. My classmates still laughed at me, but I ignored them the best I could. The only times I got a good grade were in partner assignments, and only because my partner did all the work.

Over the months, I never quite understood the culture or the customs of the place. I was always afraid to even breathe, convinced that at any moment I could accidentally disrespect an elder. I never went to a mall or did anything outside the home-school, school-home routine. At school, it had become normal to feel the stares of teachers and students on me, and although at first it bothered me, I' d grown used to their constant presence.

"Isaaaa!" my friend shouted excitedly when she saw me.

"Minji! How are you?"

"Zero excited to be back in class, but here I am. What did you do during the break?"

"Nothing," I answered automatically. "And you?"

"I was in Seoul visiting my family. Guess who I ran into there?"

I wasn' t interested until she said the name.

"P Mon."

I felt my stomach tighten. Of course, P Mon. Kamon Srisaku, the girl who gave me a headache just by existing. I ignored what Minji said, but she pressed on.

"You know what was funny? She asked about you..."

I stayed silent for several seconds, trying to change the subject.

"I envy you," I said finally. "You get to see your family. I haven' t spoken to mine in over five months."

"Can' t you go back to Venezuela, seriously?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

I shook my head with a sigh.

"Time for class. Did you learn anything else during break?" she asked.

"Yeah. I learned to say 'woman' and 'man' in Thai. Big step, right? I know five words now."

My friend frowned.

"I think you' re just not trying anymore. It only took me six months to learn Thai. Anyway... see you later."

We split off into different hallways, and I headed to my classroom. I was surprised not to see Kamon in her seat. I waited ten minutes, and although I didn' t understand why I wanted to see her, by mid-morning I had given up. There was no sign of her.

Suddenly, the principal entered the room with a police officer. We all stood and gave a respectful bow. A knot formed in my stomach. For some reason, I was bracing myself to hear my name. And yes, there it was.

"Isabela, please come with us."

My hands were sweating as I walked to the principal' s office. When I entered, the principal greeted me with a smile that did nothing to ease my nerves.

"Isabela, this officer is here because we conduct an annual school investigation. This includes a financial review of our students' families. We' d like to ask you something."

"Me? Why not just call my parents?" I asked, trying to hide my growing panic.

"Isabela, can you explain why a sixteen-year-old student has a bank account with such a considerable amount of money?"

"An account? I don' t even have one. I had one back in Venezuela in bolivares, but it was always empty because bolivares lost value so fast."

"We' re talking about 3,449,999,670.00 baht," the principal said, watching me carefully.

"Wow, that sounds like a big number, but I' m pretty sure I don' t even have a thousand baht. Well, maybe I do in cash, in my wallet."

The officer pulled out a bank document and showed it to me. My name was printed clearly alongside the name of a Thai bank. The amount in baht and its equivalent in U.S. dollars were also shown.

One hundred million dollars.

My eyes widened. How the hell was that possible? How did I have one hundred million dollars under my name?

It was clear to me then: my father had put all his money in my name to avoid suspicion. Who had he paid off here? Was it even legal for a minor to have an account with that much money? How many thousands had my father spent to make this happen? Why did he have to drag my name through the mud?

They kept me in the office for two hours, asking the same questions over and over. I kept answering, "I don' t know, call my parents." Eventually, when I got frustrated and pulled out my phone to call my dad myself, the principal asked me to hang up. She said she just wanted to help. I wasn' t stupid, but I pretended to be.

I was ready to go home and end this once and for all. While the driver took me back, I broke the silence between us for the first time.

"Do you have a name?" I asked, shattering the awkward quiet that always surrounded us.

"Yes, miss," he answered with a thick accent. "My name is Somchai. My English... not so good."

I stayed quiet, thinking. What had he thought of me all this time? He probably saw me as a spoiled, arrogant girl who didn' t even bother to speak to him. But today, I said nothing else.

When I got home, something unexpected stopped me: Kamon was waiting outside, that typical arrogant smile lighting up her face.

"I can' t believe it, Chao Nòk," she said mockingly as I walked up. "Still disrespecting your elders."

I stopped and gave her a cold stare.

"Don' t you get tired of bothering me?" I asked, crossing my arms. Then, sarcastically: "If you' re so desperate for me to call you Nong Mon, fine. I' ll do it, just to shut you up."

Kamon laughed.

"Good. I' m glad you did your research. But don' t worry, I just came to check on you. I heard they pulled you out of class under arrest. Too bad for me. I always miss the fun stuff."

The anger surged like a tidal wave. How could someone be so cruel?

"Qué haces en mi casa??" I shouted, finally dropping the filter.

I said a bunch of things in Spanish she obviously didn' t understand.

"Wait, Chao Nòk," she said, holding up a hand. "I don' t understand you."

I had no more patience. I walked past her with firm steps. Just as I was about to go inside, I heard her voice again.

"Isabela... what' s it like to live the good life with dirty money?" she said, smiling coldly.

I turned and glared at her with pure hatred, but said nothing. I walked into my house, my heart pounding with rage. There was my father, sitting calmly like nothing had happened.

"You... you... how long will this go on?" I pointed a shaking finger at him, but I couldn' t find the words. "You' re a…"

I stopped, swallowing the fury. My mother approached, worried, but I stepped back.

"How could you do this to me? Why would you do this to me?" I shouted, eyes full of tears.

My mother looked confused, but my father stood up, irritated.

"What are you talking about, Isabela? What' s going on?" he asked, approaching me.

"You' re a terrible person!" I said, my voice trembling. "How could you put dirty money in my name? How could you wash your hands of it and blame your own daughter?"

He scoffed.

"Don' t be dramatic. I don' t know what you' re talking about."

"The bank account with a hundred million in it!" I shouted. "They interrogated me at school today. Why would you do that to me?"

My father tried to justify himself, but I cut him off.

"Great. Not only are you a murderer, turns out most Venezuelans were right. You' re a thief too!"

Before I could react, I felt his hand strike my face. My lip swelled instantly. I screamed from the pain and frustration.

"Ahhh! This stupid life!" I cried, running to my room. I slammed the door, my chest burning with anger, pain, and helplessness.

I looked in the mirror. My face was swollen, and my lip was bleeding. It felt ironic, how I didn' t belong in this life, in this country. I hated my parents, and I hated Thailand. Since I got here, three people had laid a hand on me.

At dusk, I decided to go for a walk. I needed to clear my mind. As I wandered through the neighborhood, I noticed a nearby lake. I sat beside it, staring at the moon, the sky, the stars, and wondered if I' d ever have the chance to be that close to them. I cried hard, letting out all the frustration I' d bottled up.

Suddenly, someone sat beside me. When I turned, it was Kamon. I looked at her with fury and was about to get up, but she grabbed my hand and gently pulled me back down.

I felt the bum bum, bum bum of my heart. Kamon brought her hand to my cheek and gently touched my lip.

"Did your father do this to you?" she asked.

I didn' t answer. My eyes burned, but I refused to cry.

"Does he hurt you?" she insisted.

The tears began to fall uncontrollably. Kamon gently wiped my face.

"Don' t cry. Everything will be okay," she whispered.