Author Livia; Yuxi Edited
It wasn't until the final week that I truly started writing, and I feel ashamed, as if I've let down the beautiful layout and the rainbow proudly displayed in the name. I always struggle to conclude a paragraph, and by the time I pick up the pen again, my mindset has already changed. Writing then feels like gnawing on tough grass, leaving me wrinkled. Wrinkled school uniform pants, wrinkled hair. It's like a big vortex that sucks me in, and I don't resist. I've long gently entered that good night; sister, why can't you see through it?
The moral education director asked, "Is the international department just for those who can't understand English?" The crowd whispered indignantly. I really wanted to stand up and say, "I can recite more ancient poems than you can say useful things." Later, a friend said, "You should have responded to him in English." In the moment of standing up, enjoying the gaze and the heroic sense of accomplishment, the two big words "disciplinary action" followed closely, extinguishing me. I had to sit down in a hurry, humiliated and indifferent. In the faintly nauseating but long accustomed hour, my stomach was like a frog boiled in warm water.
Later, the class teacher found me and bound my mouth with a band. I knelt down, bowed like a lamb, and the frog was resurrected. A sluggish afternoon, an impassioned evening, a sarcastic and unproductive evening self-study session that almost makes one cry. Lie down, my little girl, as if there's no need to get up again.
时间来到最后一周才真正动笔，很惭愧，感觉辜负了漂亮的版面和名字上顶的彩虹。
总是一段话写不到尽头，再提笔的时候心境早就时过境迁，咬牙去写则像啃破涩的草叶。把我苦得皱巴巴的。皱巴巴的校服裤，皱巴巴的头发。它像一个大漩涡一样把我吸进去，我并不挣扎。我早就温和地走入那个良夜了，姐姐，你怎么看不穿。
德育主任问“国际部是除了英文听不懂话吗？” 群情窃窃地激愤。好想站起来讲“我能背的古诗比你能说出来的有用的话还多”。后来朋友说，你就该用英文回他。站起来的一瞬间享受着目光和英雄主义式成就感的洗礼，而“处分”两个大字则紧随其后，把我扑灭了。只好仓皇地坐下，受辱的、漠然的。隐隐欲呕却早就习惯了的一小时里，我的胃是被温水煮透的青蛙。
后来班主任找到我，为我的嘴绑上缚带。我跪下去，羊羔顶礼，青蛙死而复生。蔫蔫的下午，激昂的傍晚，戏谑到令人想掉眼泪的、一事无成的晚自习。躺下去吧，我的小姑娘，像不必再起来那样。