In a rather big
house at the corner of the street in the middle of the night, there was a boy
who did not want to believe that he was growing up by traditional standards.
"pass me the
santan, love?" he muttered with a voice softer than his own.
He scribbled down
the phrase on his narrow-lined stacks of paper. He was alone in his room and it
was very disorganised, with pens of all colours all over the floor and crude
abstract paintings of people furnished his dark-gray bedroom wall.
He despised the
television to be turned on this late at night. He would rather be in company of
his writing than mindless and repetetive plots and characters as sturdy as
foams on the surface of the seas, so he says.
Suddenly, he
dropped his pen. He leaned against the wall which was cushioned by a huge brown
pillow. At that moment, the only sound anybody could hear was the air
conditioning.
"This is
frustrating. I wonder how easy life would be being you, Mr. Blaogon" He
said, while caressing his blue-eyed Persian.
"But that's
unfair, I suppose. I think for every cat sitting in a luxurious pillow, there
would be hundreds more scavenging for food in dirty dirty dumpsters" His
pets got a little more cushioned.
His sitting stance
gradually turned into a slouch. From that sitting slouch he continued to shut
his eyes against his conscious will.
A single drop of
tear slowly climbed down his cheeks. His right hand extended in sync with his
tear towards a small wooden frame encapsulating a picture of him and his
mother.
Mr. Blaogon snuggled
right beside him, made himself more comfortable than he is as if she knew. As
if she knew.
His rest pressed on
his chest and he soon finds himself falling further and further into slumber.
Like a needle
popping an over-inflated balloon, his phone rang abruptly.
He knew who was
calling. He took his time. He was a bit tired so tossed a bit here and there,
stretched his neck side to side. He even tossed in a few cracked fingers in the
mix.
The phone stopped
ringing, but ot was only a few seconds before it rang again.
"Jason! I know
you're busy with the writing tonight, but we have a bit of a situation!" a
voice frantically projected from the other end of the telephone line.
"No, you and
Johan have a bit of a situation. Not we, not us." He replied with a tinge
of annoyance.
"Whatever,
man. Look. We kind of stolen a tyre.." Harris said calmly, but tried to be
as informative as he possibly can.
"And now it's
lost, isn't it?" he was cut short.
"Wait, how did
you know that?"
"I told you where
the motorcycle was! Doesn't take a genius to know what happens next with you
guys stealing a tyre." clearly disappointed with them forgetting he was
ever included in the plan.
Harris continued to
explain the situation in their hands. They needed help. Amelin can’t risk snooping around the boys in
the parking lot compound so she headed back to college to look for the tyre
herself alone. She couldn’t find it, she could have swore she saw it rolled away
when she pushed Harris and Johan into the boot of her sedan.
“Wait. So what do
you want me to do?” Jason asked.
There was a bit of
a silent sac right there. What could have Jason done? He was far away from
campus. It was half past three and he has a story to finish up to send to his
editor. After a bit of a calculation in his head, his blood rushed to the veins
in his head and he literally screamed.
“You left my wrench…
where?!”
Jason paused.
“That’s the wrench
from the workshop! That’s it, we’re dead.”
Being too occupied
with the missing tyre, they forgot all about the tools. Jason took the wrench
the day before and he thought it would be something he could execute swiftly.
The plan was simple. He was in the last class that used the workshop so he
figured he could take it out of the workshop, use it the next night and then
just put it back the next day. He is usually the last one to exit the workshop,
if the wrench goes missing and the wrong people find it.. everyone will know
who to point their fingers at.
“I just got my
scholarship offer last week!” Jason exclaimed.
They tried to calm
each other down. Tried. Failed, but then Johan took the phone from Harris’
hands. Johan was a little timid, but he knows panicking in these kinds of
situations will lead to more chaos. They had much more to worry about but he’s
keen on solving this problem first. Johan rarely takes control unless he really
does have something useful to say.
“Look, we have to
find the wrench first. I think we left it somewhere at the entrance to Entwisle,
I think we sat it on the grass while we were opening the back gate” Johan took
control.
So now they had a
plan. The plan was to go there, get the wrench and get out. They didn’t worry
too much. The other side of the gate is not forbidden ground, though it would be
highly questionable for three boys to be there this late at night.
They didn’t think
for too long, they had to take this chance.
Jason rushed down
and passed his brother who was watching some late night comedy while texting
his girlfriend. Not a word came out. Jason took his car keys, opened his
automatic gate, reversed his car and hoped in his head that the wrench was
still here they thought it would be.
He pressed on the
accelerator, around 7 minutes later he finds himself at the entrance of the
university.
“Student ke?” The
guard got out of his comfortable office, donned his beret and asked him.
He didn’t so much
as decelerate. He paid for the parking sticker; he’ll rush in the campus if he
wanted to. Jason wasn’t really the
calmer one amongst the three. It was just formality anyway, he thought. He
doesn’t think the guards enjoy stopping every car that goes through the gate. He
would gladly pick a fight with any of the guards that tried to chase him down,
but none of them did.
Jason arrived at
the bus stop; Harris and Johan were already sitting there waiting for him.
Is this in Sabah?
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