Take my hand, take my life; just don't take forever.
As dictated by Faranza Syns
Went to school today. Yes, I am Miss Goody-goody Two Shoes.
Miss Jehan protested quite violently about having to attend school on a Saturday. Alas, having a sister in the same school means your secret Saturdays are not secrets anymore. So, despite her very late night just a few hours ago, she had to be dragged, drowsy and befuddled, to school.
I'm sure you had plenty of time to sleep in the classroom, Jehan. Saturdays are so officially No-learning-if-there's-less-than-five-students Day.
________________
Me, Aly and Dharr were at the amphitheatre, talking. Then, since we didn't really want to go up to class (it was EST, you know), we went to help the Gates Prefects.
As we stepped closer, as we approached, we saw... a small boy surrounded by a whole flock of female prefects. Okay, it became a flock when the three of us joined in, but bear with me.
Cue: annoyed silence. The group consisting of the little boy, Laine, Hazirah, Nurul, Mel, Julian, and Jia Xiang moved towards the small flight of steps beside the small gate.
And so, still not sure as to what was going on, me, Aly and Dharr approached.
And we saw tear-drenched lashes. Bow shaped lips red from the exertion of cries. A face masked with worry and coloured with a tinge of trepidation.
It was a boy in distress.
Laine guided the little boy to the steps and sat him down.
Then, Laine started asking the boy questions. Little, ordinary, none-too-world-weary questions. Your mummy driving what car? White also? What's your favourite colour?
Dagnabit, I feel like bloody crying.
Shall we begin to when it all began?
Laine was doing her Gates duty near the asrama, I think, with Hazirah. And then, the boy walked past, crying. "I want my mummy. I want my mummy."
But it turned out to be otherwise.
Laine asked him what was wrong. The boy had went to the primary school office and requested to call his mother. A teacher at the school scolded him for asking. (meanie! wtf, don't scold kids who are already so insecure!) So, he wandered around till Laine found him.
Laine: He was pretty scared to call his mom. Scared that his mom will scold him, you know.
Then, En. Bustamam walked past. He wanted to bring the boy to the office to call his mother.
"No! I don't want office! I don't want office."
Okay, sense the fear in those words?
So En. Bustamam called his mother (the boy's mother, not En. Bustamam's mother, mind).
Laine to boy,
I seriously wanted to hug the boy, real, real tight. He did not want us to scare the teacher away. Good lord...
His voice was low, quiet--solemn and hesitant. A child's voice, unsure, yet brave.
So, back to when Laine sat him down, got him at ease. She asked him about small, insignificant stuff.
Not many boys as young as he knows what their siblings are up to.
Forget hugging; I wanted to abduct the boy and call him my own.
A boy, with the loss of a father, wanting to hold on to his mother lest she be lost to him too...
It's like something directly from a romance novel. The troubled hero.
God, I need more papercuts to keep me away from books, for now.
I already have two of them, as it is.
Boy, I love you so much. Is this what they call kismet?
There were too many awkward silences. Too many moments for us to think "this moment is awkward." And since you're new, I'll get you a news-flash: silence is good; awkward silence is bad.
Stew on it a while. Maybe then you'll find the real reason why it even had to happen at all.
"It's like sex. It's like noises. Plus explicit graphics. It's like porn."
- Yin, on what porn is like.
A proem. Not a typo. A preface. Not mindless flattery. Just what I feel.
Proem, proem. Not a typo. Look it up.
A proem of chaotic proportions.
Miss Jehan protested quite violently about having to attend school on a Saturday. Alas, having a sister in the same school means your secret Saturdays are not secrets anymore. So, despite her very late night just a few hours ago, she had to be dragged, drowsy and befuddled, to school.
I'm sure you had plenty of time to sleep in the classroom, Jehan. Saturdays are so officially No-learning-if-there's-less-than-five-students Day.
________________
Me, Aly and Dharr were at the amphitheatre, talking. Then, since we didn't really want to go up to class (it was EST, you know), we went to help the Gates Prefects.
As we stepped closer, as we approached, we saw... a small boy surrounded by a whole flock of female prefects. Okay, it became a flock when the three of us joined in, but bear with me.
Me: Ohh, wow. They're accosting kids now.
Aly: Maybe it's Jia Xiang's brother.
Cue: annoyed silence. The group consisting of the little boy, Laine, Hazirah, Nurul, Mel, Julian, and Jia Xiang moved towards the small flight of steps beside the small gate.
Dharr: Jia Xiang!
Jia: Yeah?
Dharr: Do you even have a brother?
Jia: No.
Me: He's the only son. =_=''
And so, still not sure as to what was going on, me, Aly and Dharr approached.
And we saw tear-drenched lashes. Bow shaped lips red from the exertion of cries. A face masked with worry and coloured with a tinge of trepidation.
It was a boy in distress.
Laine guided the little boy to the steps and sat him down.
Boy: Is my mommy comin to fetch me?
Laine: Yes. Your mommy is coming to fetch you.
Then, Laine started asking the boy questions. Little, ordinary, none-too-world-weary questions. Your mummy driving what car? White also? What's your favourite colour?
Boy: I want to tell my mummy something. I lost my daddy already. I only have one mummy left. I don't want to lose my mummy, too.
Dagnabit, I feel like bloody crying.
Shall we begin to when it all began?
Laine was doing her Gates duty near the asrama, I think, with Hazirah. And then, the boy walked past, crying. "I want my mummy. I want my mummy."
Laine: At first, I thought he was one of those brats-- you know, the ones that are clingy and mengada-ngada.
But it turned out to be otherwise.
Laine asked him what was wrong. The boy had went to the primary school office and requested to call his mother. A teacher at the school scolded him for asking. (meanie! wtf, don't scold kids who are already so insecure!) So, he wandered around till Laine found him.
Laine: He was pretty scared to call his mom. Scared that his mom will scold him, you know.
Then, En. Bustamam walked past. He wanted to bring the boy to the office to call his mother.
"No! I don't want office! I don't want office."
Okay, sense the fear in those words?
So En. Bustamam called his mother (the boy's mother, not En. Bustamam's mother, mind).
Laine: We wanted to bring him to the Gazebo so that we can call his mother again. But he was so scared to go there.
Laine to boy,
Laine: See over there? There's your school. Look at the van there? So far from school right? Teacher cannot see you from the van.
Boy: *hesitant*
Laine: If the teacher come, we'll scold her.
Boy: Don't want to scold.
Laine: You don't want us to scold teacher?
Boy: Don't want.
I seriously wanted to hug the boy, real, real tight. He did not want us to scare the teacher away. Good lord...
His voice was low, quiet--solemn and hesitant. A child's voice, unsure, yet brave.
So, back to when Laine sat him down, got him at ease. She asked him about small, insignificant stuff.
Laine: Do you have a koko (brother, or however you spell it)?
Boy: Yes. My koko is studying at Sekolah Menengah Cheras.
Laine: How old is koko?
Boy: Koko is 16 years old.
Laine: Do you have a jiejie?
Boy: Jiejie is waiting for her results, so she helps mummy to teach at the kindergarten. She's doing
Not many boys as young as he knows what their siblings are up to.
Forget hugging; I wanted to abduct the boy and call him my own.
A boy, with the loss of a father, wanting to hold on to his mother lest she be lost to him too...
It's like something directly from a romance novel. The troubled hero.
God, I need more papercuts to keep me away from books, for now.
I already have two of them, as it is.
Boy, I love you so much. Is this what they call kismet?
_______________
There were too many awkward silences. Too many moments for us to think "this moment is awkward." And since you're new, I'll get you a news-flash: silence is good; awkward silence is bad.
Stew on it a while. Maybe then you'll find the real reason why it even had to happen at all.
_____________________
"It's like sex. It's like noises. Plus explicit graphics. It's like porn."
- Yin, on what porn is like.
A proem. Not a typo. A preface. Not mindless flattery. Just what I feel.
Proem, proem. Not a typo. Look it up.
A proem of chaotic proportions.
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