The effects of school were finally taking its toll on Don. After a warm bath, he slumped onto the bed, sprawled eagle-wide upon the dozens of blankets on his bed. His body clock ignored the time as sleep consumed him quickly. 8.30pm.

Monday morning. Don woke up at his usual time, ready for the world. Streaming with energy, he reached his class and got ready for the lessons he was about to have. Little did he know that those few joules of energy he had in the morning would be used up soon. His body's last spark of life to keep him active for the next few days he was going to face.

Come Assembly time, Don's legs almost gave way- An unfamiliar weakness took over as he tried hard to maintain his stand during the National Anthem. His head was throbbing through the pledge, and he thought that he would collapse before finishing the school song.

"All at ease."

Just when the principal was starting her tiresome speech, like she always does every Monday, Don knelt down and tried to regain control of his body. After what felt like decades did Don's backside hit the cold, hard plastic chair in his class. Something was already wrong. But he couldn't go home, could he? There was CCA in the afternoon.

Thirty minutes through Chemistry, Don started shivering. His face turned pale, hands a few degrees above freezing point. F noticed this, asking him to go home. Refusal.

After an hour's ordeal, the sick bay presented itself as a good idea. Asn was also sick.

"Hey, you're sick right? We go General Office, see if we can rest in Sick Bay."

Asn nodded his head.

* * * * *

"No, I can't you boys rest in the sick bay. If you're really sick then go home! This is a school, not a hospital."

Both boys had little strength in them to refute that statement. After many phonecalls, both Don and Asn were allowed to return home.

"Might as well, really. I know you have performance. But you conserve your energy and perform well on that day la! I've told Eric already."

Speak of the devil. Mr Tay walked into the office, and started explaining to Don how he'll settle everything so Don should just rest.

Bugger.

It was deja vu all over again. The same scenario happened last Monday, too. This deja vu wasn't going to last. Things took a turn for the worst.

* * * * *

Don woke up, his whole body freezing numb. He forcefully opened his crusted eyelids, noticing that the fan was blowing directly at him, while all his blankets were anywhere but on his body.

Who the f*** turned the fan on? I'm f***ing freezing my ass off here without the fan already.

Don was very displeased as he tried to get up, only to find the world spinning.

Aw, great.

"F***!" Don shouted as he lunged at the fan in a vain attempt to turn it off. Your sense of perception goes haywire while your brain is cooking.

At that instant, the maid came in, asking what was wrong and why the fan was turned off.

So it was her. ARGH!

Apparently the maid thought that a fever meant Don was feeling hot. The best course of action for her was to turn the fan on and remove Don's blankets. That was equivalent to dousing Don in a tub of ice.

"Nonono. Shh. Listen la! You see, I'm freezing. I need to sweat. I need jacket. Blanket. Get it? I feel COLD."

"But you're having a fever. So you feel hot!" She doesn't seem to get it.

"Who's having the fever? Who knows better?"

"Yo-"

"-Ya! So please, leave me in peace. My fever should be through the roof now. Thank you, bye bye!"

The thermometer showed 39.6 degrees celcius, a significant rise from the 38.4 earlier that day.

Idea.

Don scrounged for three of his thickest jackets and trainers. Two blankets around his neck like a scarf, two thick socks, Don looked like a snowman save for the gloves. Sliding his comforter around him like a cape, Don steadied himself into a comfortable position before falling asleep.

He woke up the following evening, sweating profusely. Beads of sweat trickled down his cheek as he sat up. His entire pillow was wet. The two innermost layers of his attire were dripping with ill perspiration.

Gotta get those changed, Don thought to himself as he removed his clothings.

Just as the cool air greeted his sweat-covered arms, Don felt a chill travel through him. A doctor should be consulted.

Over at the clinic, Don waited in bated breath. He couldn't breathe in too deeply without straining, nor walk a short distance without panting dramatically.

The queue was long, but somehow Don became a priority case due to his layers of clothing. Two layers now, without the scarf. The nurse explained to the other patients that those with high fever or difficulty in breathing should be seen first. Don had both symptoms.

39.5 degrees celsius. Series of procedure-based checks, and Don was sent home with six different types of medicine.

Medicine- Candies of the diseased. Don laughed at his thought. The fever must really be frying his brain.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Glush. Glush. Gulp.

Six strong kingdoms to regain the system from the viral army, with reinforcements every eight hours. The kingdoms needed the last component to assure victory- Sleep.

Don rested.

* * * * *

The following two days were fuzzy, with Don sleeping through more than thirty hours, waking up only to have food and medicine input and output.

Wednesday night. Don was supposed to be well already, but somehow this virus proved stubborn. He was at 40.8 degrees when he went to another clinic for a second opinion, his parents dragging him along the way.

"I can't say much about your son. The last doctor was kiasu, he gave you almost every medicine you need. I'll just prescribe stronger doses. Another day off school, you'll be well soon."

Dusk was horror as the war within Don waged all night. His muscles tensed as he coughed repeatedly, each cough getting stronger and more agitated. He was sweating from the intense heat under the blankets, while his limbs felt cold and numb. The ability to move around was lost. The world around him was kaleidoscopic. Don shut his eyes tightly, trying to go back to sleep. It'll all be over soon.

* * * * *

The thursday sun was shining on Don's face as he cautiously sat up, trying hard not to incur any headaches. Nothing. He felt stronger, as if the war within him had ended. Had he won?

Afternoon proved it true. Night did not. He felt accustomed to the pain, that lingering feeling all over his fragile body.

Meh, gotta get back to school tomorrow. I'll feel better, la, Don thought to himself as he packed his bag.

Just then, a silver rectangular trinket dropped from his wallet. Don bent down slowly, cringing from his aching spine, picking it up and inspecting it. It was as flawless as it was since the first day that was given to him. He peered at his bedroom clock- It was 12.03am, 27 Jan' 2006.

Coincidence?

He smiled as he put the metal back into his wallet, before going to bed.

Happy Anniversary.

"You know I can drive better than you."

"I've been driving for close to twenty years! You picked it up less than ten years ago!"

"Not the point. I learn fast, and you know I can parallel park better." Mum looked away from Dad.

"You can't go at 180 km/h without flinching."

"Oei, my life is precious. And are you saying that you've been going at that speed in M'sia?"

"No, maybe some-"

"Sometimes somemore! Want to die right?"

"Yeah, but I'll still be a better driver than you."

"You're not!"

Don groaned and looked out the window, the surroundings blurring as the the car sped up along the expressway. Multitudes of cars were along the P.I.E. on the busy Friday evening.

It's probably due to ChinaTown. Chinese New Year is right around the cor-

"How about you park later, and I'll drive now. You can't drive that well anyway."

"Right, and you can, huh? It's okay, I'll let you wreck the car."

"Wreck? Only way I'm wrecking the car is to have you sit-"

"WHAT?"

"Nothing, dear. Haha."

Sheesh. Those two will never grow up.

Parents.

After an hour of a gruelling ride, Don treaded lightly up to the lobby of Four Seasons Hotel. Grandma beside him, he walked into the lift and took out his handphone to tell Mum where they were going to be. Level 2, jasmine room. He held the '2' key, speed-dialing. Just as he was about to listen to it, the people around him looked up and at him, their gaze stopping when he finally cut the call.

Okay, is it bad manners to use the phone in an elevator?

He thought nothing of it, walking to the lobby and up to the second level. His relatives were already there.

"Wa, ah boy. You're so tall already!"

"Taller than Andy already. What have you been eating? Or rather, what have you not? Eat more la, boy."

Andy? Where was he?

It turned out that almost every cousin of his did not turn up except for Lynn. No surprise, really. This wedding was of his other cousin. A cousin he has never met.

"Wa, Adeline so pretty already. Change so much ah!"

"Mother, you saw her twenty years ago. She was only eight then!"

"Oh, no wonder change so much."

The rest laughed as Grandma recalled her past memories from the 1980s. A marvel really, since she could barely remember what happened five minutes back.

Uncle Jimmy was there, entertaining the others, strangers and relatives. Uncle Tony was at the other table, joking around with people Don had never seen before. Uncle Roland was there too, all hundred kg of him. It's almost been a year since Don had seen them. They almost look old. Ragged, but happy. After all, their eldest brother's daughter was getting married. Late Uncle William would have been proud.

"Hey boy, I think I see Uncle William standing next to you. You'll would have been his favourite nephew. You two look bloody alike, hair and all."

"Pssh! Jimmy, you're drunk. Stop scaring the poor boy." Uncle Sun cajoled him as the rest of the table laughed.

But was Uncle William really there? He passed away more than twenty years back now. Maybe he was gracing his daughter's wedding.

Don shook that thought out of his head, though he really did think that there was this man sitting at the last table looking mightily alike to Uncle William. Don never forgets pictures of dead people. He told the rest, who promptly looked at the man and said they didn't know him. That man didn't seem to talk much, muttering a few thank you's while being served, and just smiling the whole way through.

"Bah, I'm probably getting drunk," Don laughed as he tipped the wine glass to his mouth.

"From champagne? Wa, you're a really good drinker leh, WeiWen!" Lynn smiled, as both of them clinked glasses and drank to Uncle William. Over at the other table, Uncle Jimmy was teasing the bridesgroom, rapidly toasting him glass after glass. Nasty beer.

"A toast to the bride and groom. Cheers."

"Cheers," the room echoed.

"Aiyah, cheers what cheers! YAMMMMMMMMMMMMMM..."

The tension was broken. Everyone joined in, the hall filled with chaos as the heavy drinkers let out a long breath of the traditional chinese toast.

"... SENG!"

* * * * *

The dinner ended eventfully with everyone bidding each other adieu.

"See you next week!"

What? It's Chinese New Year already? Damn, that's bloody fast.

Don entered the lift, grinning as he thought of the money he could be getting during that festive season.

"Hey, it's as if we've entered a midget convention." A voice from behind sounded.

Laughter was heard. Smitingly horrible croaks of laughter.

"Not really, there's one tall kid there."

Don turned around, noticing that the "AngMohs" were referring to him.

Urgh.

"Oh, you mean me? Yes, I'm a tall asian. Gasp." Don turned around, his sarcasm building within.

"They know english, stupid!"

"Oh yes, I spreak gewd engrish. Sterotypical." Don said in a condescending tone, walking out as the door opened.

The racists stood dumbfounded. The other "short" asians looked at them and walked out too, muttering inaudibly while maintaining a cold stare at the six-feet-tall caucasians.

Don felt relief as he saw his family members by the hotel entrance. Family's still the best.

Don stared at the screen.

"Kao!" He scowled. The screen had that particular piece of text, in block letters.

"i can't people with NO morals (one example is TAN WEIWEN of sec 4/1-sadly, my classmate)" The words scrawled upon the coffee-brown wallpaper.

What did Don do to Pam? He got out of her way so many times already.

Damn tolerant le la, Don thought. Yes, words tend to travel through the mind in a non-conformist manner, in a mode of transport widely known as Singlish.

Oh, so that was what Pam thought huh. I'm not conforming enough?

A page was flipped through M.

"Conforming to standards of what is right or just in behavior; virtuous"

Don must have not have morals for not conforming to standards. Somewhere along the journey through education he must have done something criminal. Murder? Rape? Don refused to recall memories. Little was known that he was behind the election of Bush. It was solely his fault that Bush got elected a second time.

Or maybe Don just didn't finish his chinese homework. Gasp. That's not right.

Maybe Don had to conform to Her standards. But what were they? Ever so impulsive, Don accessed MSN, only to find the 'TroubleShoot' icon.

Bah, some things are better left alone, urgh.

Wait. That was not the worst part.

Pam compared Don to Peter. (He has an English name Peter? He doesn't look like a Peter! He's more of a Dick.)
Don does have a wrong attitude towards life, but hey! That was just low to stab him in the back by saying that Peter's attitude was like his.

(Gawd I can't enough of this Peter thing. Any Johns? Alex? Muthu and Ali? Peter. Gawd, haha. Does anyone actually call him Peter?)

Ouch.

Enough was enough. Don made a phonecall. Cheney picked up on the other line, with a familiar kick-ass funny accented voice in the background.

Ah-bian must be there too, Don thought.

"Hello, Dick speaking."

"Remember those weapons of mass destruction? I want them delivered to and detonated in Singapore, Lentor..."

- - - - -

Fine.

Don actually went to finish up his mathematics homework. Exams were coming up, anyway. He didn't feel well either.
So much for being 'guai'. Some people just can't stop associating you with bad things.

One day.

"Hey hi, um, would you like to join the Anderson *wince* cultural society?" Don inadvertantly winced as he said the dreaded A-word.

The three gals looked at him quizzically, as though he has just muttered the riddle of the sphinx.

"Aren't you that Lion Dance guy?"

Don looked at his attire. He was wearing a blood-red tee shirt, with a large picture of a chinese lion standing majestically on stilts. A large chinese character symbolizing the word "dragon" adorned the back of the cloth.

Oh no, I'm actually from Chinese Dance, sheesh.

Composing himself, Don replied with a quick yes, and proceeded to tell them about the pros of being in the "Anderson Cultural Society". It was supposed to be called the Chinese Cultural Society, yet something went wrong and the Anderson brand stuck on. Like a piece of chewing gum Don had to chew in his hand after he was caught by Mdm Wong. That will be another story for another day.

This procedure continued till almost all the flyers were given out, and amidst enthusiastic replies were snobbish ones.

"Was I like one of them when I was Sec 1? Some of them are just plain "qian bian" (asking for a beating)!" Don complained at his booth, his question directed at HongH.

"You ask me for what? I didn't know you then, I won't know," HongH replied indifferently, his speech interlaced with short breaths. He had just been performing with Don for the publicity they had to attain for more people to join. Yet, Don felt an unwavering surge of excitement and strength as his stamina surpassed his usual. He was not tired. Was he?

Shrugging off HH's reply, Don tossed him a drink. He needed one himself.

The CCA open house ended eventfully, with the Lion Dance members screwing their part up. Well, at least for the ones in the troupe. Outsiders rarely appreciate the art.

And so, Don trudged back to the 4/1 classroom, where he found HS there, listening to her iPod.

"Don't tell me, waiting for HanH ar? So cute!" Don teased her. She wouldn't take much offence- They were cute together. Chl joined HS later, and it was then when the criticism started.

"No one was at our booth la!"

"Same here."

"Don't think alot will come to my CCA either- It sucks."

All three of them didn't know where all the Sec 1s were going. Were they even interested in joining a CCA? Don thought negative.

Not long after the discussion had started, a school guard came into the class and ushered the three out. Don would have to wait for Carol outside.

Groan.

He met Carol not long after, after both of them has changed out of the school uniform. And then the inevitable happened.

Mdm Lim. (*cue horror music*)

"Eh wait, you!" Mdm Lim called for Don, as he tried to turn his back on her. He winced as he cued Carol to leave the place before Mdm Lim noticed her. The few teachers who were speaking with Mdm Lim shot Carol a disappointed look, before returning their amused gaze at the alleged victim. Namely Don.

"Ah, you ah. How many times I catch you for breaking school rules. You know that you cannot wear home clothes in school, you... what's your name again..." Mdm Lim spoke, her speech exemplifying flawless Singlish. A trademark.

"WeiWen," the other teachers said in unison, reminding her of this little prat she first met in Secondary 1. This little prat was now a CCA leader, and just as mischievous.

"Right. One more time ah, WeiWen, and you have to step down as leader. You cannot lead unless you're of good conduct yourself!"

"And I'll be demoted to vice-leader, with all the perks and none of the responsibilities?" Don couldn't help but poke fun at the situation.

"Yes," Mdm Lim replied absent-mindedly, not aware of Don's sarcasm.

"Well then, thank you Mdm Lim. Teachers! I'll take my leave now!" Don bounded off towards the staircase, before the former could notice that the other teachers were vastly amused.

"Wait! Go get that piece of cardboard from the floor before you leave."

Just like her to re-assert her authority, thought Don has he scampered down and up the stairs in record timing, before bidding his farewell to the teachers. They aren't all that bad really. Just a tad annoying when you break a few measly rules.

He looked on as he noticed that there was a friend who was badly scolded in NPCC for some trivial matters.

Looks like being a CCA leader isn't as cracked up as its supposed to be.

Splurt.

Squish.

Squish.

One drip. Two drips. Three...

"OI! GET OUT OF THE HOUSE NOW! DRY YOURSELF BEFORE YOU ENTER!"

"But Mum! I need a towel!"

Storming into the room before re-appearing two seconds later, Mum held a towel in each hand, catapulting both at Don, who grabbed each one swiftly, one at a time. Only a grin was seen on his face. A cheeky one.

"Here's two. Now wipe yourself off before you catch a cold... GOLDEN! GET AWAY FROM BOY!" The scream echoed through the corridors.

Whimper.

Don wiped the beads of rainwater from his specs, his hair flustered from the pelter of rain, uniform soaked from the downpour.

"That was so relaxing, Mum! Come and enjoy leh!"

"Siao."

Squelch, went the bag as it was picked up from the white, dusty concrete and dunked onto solid marble. Rushing off into the bathroom, Don removed his uniform after extracting the content within. The knob nearby looked inviting.

* * * * *

A towel slung around his neck, Don entered the internet for one of the last times that week - He would be too busy the following days. CCA open house was annoying. There were too many things to handle on his own, with Mdm LuQin being sick and the other two teachers, Mdm Neo and Mdm Chan, just looking on.

I just hope that they'll remember what to do on that day, Don thought as he applied the art of procrastination to his worries. He'll just have to worry about this another day.

Like tomorrow.

Time flew fast, with him experiencing hilarious stuff.

"11-4=8, still want go VJC"

"Nattypoosuenxinweiii!!!"

"We'll all turn into piles of dogshite if we don't go to school."

"Malaysians are hopeless in romance. When a guy likes a girl, he gives her phone credit for her phone. What does this suggest? He is willing to spend on the girl? Or is this to ensure that the girl would have no reason not to answer his phonecall? "

Boredom reigned over Don yet again, as he took his leave from his online status.

O2Jam awaits him.

Notes:-
The author has added some special features to this post. He is pissed today. He knows that he can be suspended for writing such a post, and takes full responsibility for his actions. His only defence is that he did this only for justice, and common sense.

Edit: On top of all that, he has balls.

I am Tan Wei Wen from Class 4/1, Anderson Secondary School.

P.S. Anderson sucks.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


"My white dragon beats your shadow balls!"

Partially amused by HB's shouting, Don made no effort to hear what was being shouted. He didn't have to. Yet, he still felt that what he heard was incorrect- The phrase sounded perverse.

Just then, Major Chong entered the class. Chaos was no more.
(Yes, it was that simple. Just his presence can turn the colour of a baboon's butt blue.)

Cards scrambled, chairs fell, moods were dampened. A wave of silence struck the class of 4/1. Doom has arrived.

"Are you in your respective classes? Do you all belong here?" Major Chong looked on, leering at some of the students. James looked on, having nothing much to say. Abel gave a weak excuse.

That question would not have happened if the NEW principal of the school had not implemented the rules for "trespassing". Apparently, if a student of Class A walks into Class B, invited or not, he is trespassing, and vice versa. That would warrant a minor offence if he laid a step into the classroom which he does not study in.

Would a major offence consist of him taking two steps? Don was miffed.

Unknown to everyone, the truth was that there was no clear line for a major or minor offence. Actually, there was no clear line between innocence and guilt. Not in Anderson Secondary.

Name-tag? Hair? Loose pants? Low belt? Earsticks? School-badge? Ankle socks?
The list would go on, and on.

A minor offence consisted of not wearing a name-tag. Seven minor offences would you expelled. Anything Everything will get you a minor offence. Anderson is going to have a lack of students soon. A term is all we need for the rules to slacken.

(Yeah, and if any teacher reads this, they are going to step up on rules. Woop-tee-doo.)

On the other hand, there were no rules stating that killing a person was punishable. That was a large loophole. Since the principal went by her "law-by-law" rules, doesn't that mean that exploiting these loopholes would make one invulnerable to the system? Even if it was, unfortunately (laughs), a major offence, that would only result in the offender get two strokes of the cane for the first offence. Of course, if one commited four major offences, he or she will be suspended from school for two whole weeks.

(At this point of time, I must beseech all of you to defy, insult, harm and then kill a certain someone. *coffpohcoff* This will count as FOUR major offences, and you'll not need to come to school for the next two weeks. Isn't that great?)

"You guys changing class, right?" Major Chong continued.

"No, we're not. I told Miss Heng that we did not want to change already," Pam said.

"No, I did not get any message from Mrs Poh saying you guys did not want to change. So I'll take everything down and put them in the current 3/7 class now," Major Chong continued, indifferent to the reply Pam gave.

4/1 had no choice but to comply.

"Do you think that the change of classes was inevitable even if we rejected the idea? Maybe Mrs Poh didn't want Pam taking the elevator. Only the teachers can take it."

Yes, maybe it is true. Mrs Poh wants to make us know our place. Teachers must have more privileges, and the relationship of student and teacher cannot be too close. Teachers can only be givers of information, never a friend. Is that what she wants?

The facts did add up. Mrs Poh made it compulsory (Yes, compulsory. Le gasp.) for all students to greet every teacher they see. Failure to do so will result in (you guessed it) a minor offence. She even made it a minor offence to wear class tee or school tee (anderson yeah) on casual Fridays.

How casual is that, huh?

Two and two makes four.

No, something must be done.

No one noticed Mrs Goh enter the class of 4/1 amongst the laughter and commotion, even when she had a few students trailing behind her. Her face wore a mask of doubt- Was she frustrated? Unhappy?

Or maybe just plain confused, thought vanishing as Don got up from YX's table. They have been discussing about the english band allocation for the year. Well, not before Don had another go at Son, who was clueless as to which teachers were teaching which band.

"Don't know lah, Mrs Poh may be teaching Band 3!" Don said it out loud enough, within the earshot of Son.

Son turned around, his face writhing into an expression of agony.

"Noooo. What band? English? Nooo..." Son trailed off as Don recited random names of teachers in the school supposedly "teaching" the english bands for Seconday 4, while Cheng and the rest laughed along. The prank even reached the ears of Pam, who was sitting quite a distance away. She guffawed, with YX accompanying her with a giggle.

Yet, tension had been building since Mrs Goh entered the class. She asked for everyone to return to their seats, and proceeded to read out the names of the students chosen to take the course of Band 2 english. Those with names unread will have to leave the class to join their fellow classmates in either Band 1, or Band 3.

Don whispered to F, who was looking on nonchalantly, "Oh, please. If SHE's teaching Band 2, I'll rather go to Band 1. The workload will kill me, nonetheless preparing me for the O's. But if only I could slack a littl-"

"Psst! You're in Band 3! I saw!" Chl motioned towards him, breaking his chain of thoughts.

'Hey, the heavens have shown me some mercy. Why not? Band 3, here I come!'

Band 3 is considered the worst band, at least for the cluster Don was in- Cluster Ricky. He wondered how this teacher- Mrs Ashari, would teach. Would she give the class freedom, like Miss Heng? Bore the class to death like Mrs Goh? Liven the class with a few jokes here and there, like Mrs Lawrence?

He got his answer as he entered the class to sit with YY. Mrs Ashari was already there, beckoning them to hurry up and take any seat, while attempting to scribble something illegible on the whiteboard.

She started off by telling the class that they were here because of their poor results. That was a watered-down comment, though. What she actually said was...

"Your results suck. It sucks big-time!"

Well, that's quite some encouragement, I guess. The thought raced through his mind as colour by colour was applied onto his school notebook. This was going to be horrible.

Mrs Ashari scanned the room, noticing a lack of boys in the class. There were 38 students, and only 8 boys in the class.

"Goes to show how smart the guys are in languages right? So little boys in Band 3" YY sniggered as Don gave him an amused look.

That joy was short-lived, though. Mrs Ashari made most of the boys stand up and pick their group with 3 girls. It was going to be a 1:3 ratio of male to female, with only two groups "not having the luxury of a male".

Right.

She proceeded to hurl confusing commands at the guys, having the boys no option but to heed her words and scutter around, lost. Don ignored that command, and pulled his chair and the closest table nearby towards Shah.

He turned to C, in a condenscending tone, said aloud "Gawd, she treats us like little kindergarteners! So much for being in a controlled environment."

Mrs Ashari presented them a sheet of paper; a list of materials required for the class. Don inevitably squirmed as he heard her explaining the difference between A4 and A5 sized books. Haven't they known the size of A4 and A5 books since they were seven or eight?

English was going to be real fun, Don realised as he scurried out the classroom right after the class greeted their teacher.

That's the price one has to pay, for failing to hand in two major english assignments the previous year.

A familiar tune twinged among the the random noises the television was making from the living room. Chinese words were heard, ramblings going so fast that only someone who bothered to listen will understand.

Oh crap, thought Don. That show again.

Donovan heaved a sigh, leaving his comfortable chair to turn the telly on. He liked that show. He never actually watch them, he just glances the screen every now and then, listening to what the characters were saying most of the time. After all, listening proved the story more interesting, since it fuels the mind for more imagination, rather than allowing the transmitted pixels to hand-feed the brain images directly.

Don returned to his chair, sinking into it with a large thud. He winced.

"Oh, for the love of..."

He has knocked his elbow into the armrest, accidentally. As pain gushed through his arm, a cold numbing sensation followed.

"Gah, funny bone."

Awaiting the numbness to subside, Don used his left hand to pick up a piece of text. He read on, not noticing the time pass as he read on.

A few days back, Don had heard of an uncut version for Harry Potter : The Order of the Phoenix. He questioned its source, knowing well that Rowling wouldn't really have published such a book.

"I'm telling you, there are sex scenes in it. Harry and Hermione did it la, and which madman would devote so much time writing a 500-page book about Harry Potter, getting right about every fact there ever was about him? Words so small, somemore." Yv said it in chinese quickly, rolling her eyes.

"Cannot be la, Rowling? Pass me the book leh. Please? I'll have to see it, or else I doubt I'll believe." Don replied in rapid chinese himself, suasion aiding him in his choice of words while his mind was on the book. That'll be interesting, Don thought to himself.

"Okay la. Now help me move these stuff over to the other side. This box is killing me." Yv exclaimed, with a rictus.

Fecund was it the next day, when Yv brought the book with her.

"Don't mind the book. There was a slight accident after I was done with it." Yv thrusted a thick piece of text onto Don, who quickly caught it. She followed up with another one, this one thinner and more... seasoned than the other.

"Wa, Yv. Pro leh, you. 1 book split into half. Not bad, sia. How... into it were you, huh?" Don teased her as her slight smile drew into a drawl.

"No la, joking. Really. And yeah, this is true...Uncut, you say? Sweet. I'll get it back to you when I'm done with it, ya?" Don flipped through the pages while she gave him a 'I-told-you-so' look.

Yet there was work to do. Yv wasn't paying him to read a book. Don would just have to supress his urge to read it till he got home.

* * * * *

So there it was, a book almost finished, in the hands of Don as he read the text slowly, word by word so as to absorb the effect portrayed in the story.

Hermione looked into his eyes as he drew her closer to him, taking her in as their...

Don felt himself blushing as he read on, not noticing it until he felt his cheeks. What the hell was that about? They're only kissing! Bloody hormones, Don thought as he read on, feeling his blush mellowing as he kept his emotions in check. Testosterone is rampant around the age of fifteen. A small price to pay for a life without much stress apart from academia.

He put the book down soon enough, realising that he wasn't focusing much on the book as his imagination- no wait. Memories flooded back as he shook them off. So much for reading something such as this.

Don thought back, carefully supplanting the experiences he had the same day, over those thoughts. He turned the television off, and tuned in to a radio station instead. The melodious sounds of 90.5FM flowed into his systems as he tried to vaguely recall what happened the previous day, to no avail.

"Alright, let's start with today, for a change." Don talked to himself, a habit that has not left him since young. He has given it great consideration of warding himself into an asylum if that kept up till he was an adult.

* * * * *

The new teachers weren't much of a surprise to Don, he knew about them for a long time now. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder how they acted in class. Would they be barbaric? Unreasonable? He doubted these traits- He was already in Secondary 4. Surely the teachers will be tad reasonable, if not nicer. Past experiences didn't lead him that direction, though. He'll have to take what comes his way.

Chemistry was up first, as Don kept up reading his book, only noticing the teacher when prompted by his sitting partner, F.

"Oei, stand up..." F nudged Don, who quickly stood up at attention.

After the usual ceremonies, they all sat down to see what this teacher had to offer. After all, Miss Chia has been noted to be an excellent teac--

"Wait. That's Mr Tan. Oooh." Don couldn't help but mutter out loud.

Mr Tan didn't respond much, only turning to the class and telling them that Miss Chia will only be teaching them during the second half of the year.

He proceeded to tell them his expectations, coupled with a few issues on discipline as such. Don listened attentively, falling back to his book after a few minutes due to short attention span. Disciplinary matters are going to be a thing of the past now, thought Don as he knew that he has not committed any act of malfeasance. Yet.

The period finished quickly with Don finally putting the book to a side and taking notes for redox reactions. Physics was up next, and Don was relieved to know that Mr Yu was going to teach them physics again. That may not be the best thing, but at least it beats having the DM teach you. The hour moved by rather quickly with Don handing in an incomplete mind-map.

Chinese rolled by without anyone noticing, and elation was spread among 4/1 as Mr Ng came into the class to announce that he's still the chinese teacher for them. No surprise there, but Mr Ng was overwhelmingly encouraging. Not to mention persistently supportive when it comes to teaching. Don was made Chinese Rep. for the year, just when he thought that he was just going to skim through Sec 4 Chinese.

"But I'm no good in Chinese!" Don spluttered in rapid chinese.

"Well, you will be. And since all of you here are in Higher Chinese, there's nothing much you can say about your chinese being bad." Mr Ng smiled at Don, who accepted the post dejectedly.

Yet again, it was the usual hoola-balooza as Mr Ng covered life ambitions, waking Don up for a real bit after his ambition was read out. Did he really want to achieve what he had said?

"And what kind of doctor will you be? And you will specialize in..." Mr Ng waited for Don to complete his sentence.

"I... want to be a neuro-surgeon," Don replied, wondering if anyone would know the translation for getratrics.

"And why so?"

"Be-because I wanna help. I want to help the people around me, I guess. I've seen a few people pass away because of a clot in the brain or what-not..." Donovan trailed on.

He thought of Ah Soon and Kow. Complaining about their headaches while visiting them, and passing away without a notice soon after falling into comatose. He shook himself back into reality. There was no way he was going to tear in front of the class. Not for something that happened such a long time ago, anyway.

An applause was heard.

Maybe I'll achieve it one day, if I work hard enough.

* * * * *

Time was unbelievably fast today as Recess snuck around the corner. Don proceeded to try out the dishes in the canteen. Apparently the new western stall has opened.

It was good, a little tough around the sides, nonetheless delicious to a hungry teenager. Don turned around, he saw her with her plate.

Perhaps she didn't notice me? Just as well.

As luck would have it, she was just sitting a few tables away from Don, facing him from his right. He saw her talking animatedly with Wil, while returning to his plate. He didn't see Iz though.

He doesn't always have to be around her, silly duck. Don laughed to himself as he started a conversation with HB and the rest.

Just as he was returning his plates to the respective...containers (it was just a tub), he walked over and noticed Iz by the stone tables. Ah, so that was where he was.

* * * * *

He entered class, only to see the new teacher arrive. Was that Mdm Wong? She was almost a legend for her teaching capabilities.

"Why is she so early? It's not even 11.20am yet!" JR asked F, who shrugged and mentioned that recess was almost over and...

Don and the others around him noticed Mdm Wong turning over to glance at JR. Or F. F laughed jokingly, "Maybe she's gonna blackmark JR!"

That never happened, though. It turned out that Mdm Wong was amazingly nice, strict enough to command respect, yet relaxed enough to gain and hold the attention of the class with witty (more often lame, but still) jokes and wisecracks now and then. Don realised he had underestimated her. That's one experienced teacher.

"If you are not good in maths, you should become the Maths Rep.! Come on, think about it, why be so dumb and ask around for people's work to copy, when you can just ask them to hand it in to you to copy!"

Unorthodox, yet practical. She had that aura around her, Don looked on with curiosity.

He felt guilty even reading Harry Potter. He put the book to a side after a reminder from F, and listened to Mdm Wong. Maybe just the fact that Mathematics made time move slower than usual, but still, comparatively fast.

The next few hours was spent without a teacher in class as Miss Heng was sick, and unable to attend. Don mused when F proclaimed that Mrs Poh was around the corner, and going to walk pass the class. The class went for a 180-degrees change, from a noisy, rowdy one to a quiet, studious one. All in the timespan of ten seconds.

* * * * *

Don smiled at all these memories. They'll have to be blogged soon. These kind of memories are those that last for a long, long time.

It was the start of the year 2006. Start of the school year, more precisely. There was much to talk about the new year; upcoming challenges, the what-not.

There was little he could do now, though. Donovan had only two more minutes to type before his brain gave out. After fiddling with more than ten blog templates since evening, Don had thought nothing else than settling down for a good ol' fashioned blog-fest. Yet, as luck might have it, filling his new blog up was not a top priority as of yet- Fatigue was slowly building up in his system.

"I suppose I could stop now," Don muttered under his breath.

He would have to continue typing this another day.