Asma's Cross Country (maya's POV)

The Energy Refrigerator

I slept around two last night, trying to finish of my homework (and experimenting the goodness of caffeine) ,having a small notion of tomorrow’s cross-country tuck far behind my mind .Homework comes first, then other things matters (It’s a PRET student, dudes). I was getting pretty bored up and indulged myself in a string of messages with Elissa.

“ Hye Moksha. Reminder: We have to grab the front row of the crowd tomorrow. I’m super-revived right now. We have to make sure we qualify as the top ten.”
“Okay2. But you’ll have to stay by me throughout. I loathe running in solace.”
“Sure, friend. We are inseparable”
“You got that, friend”.
That was it. The rest of it was meant for personal reasons and it’s unnecessary, though. We decided to stand in the front row of the crowd so that being top ten wouldn’t be that hard. I continued to work with my hand until it became all sweaty and red from the constant writing. I gave in to the gnawing sleepiness and left my study desk just like that, littered with books. I was in a ardent circumstance no one could fathom (Please, I was oblivious myself). I grabbed my pillows and bolster, plunging down the staircase where my family was snoozing off, enjoying the ‘Family Day’ slumber my brother and I introduced since we redecorated our house with new tiles. The minute my skull touched the pillow, I was drowned in a dream with the ‘Malaysian Sea Pursuer’-which I barely remember, and found myself waking up to the annoying chimes of the alarm clock that becomes my archenemy everytime morning hits. I took a quick bath (which was definitely refreshing), donned on my PE attire and pulled on a pair of socks on both legs. I packed my bag with a set of Replica books and two bottles of water.
I filled up my stomach with Milo nuggets my mom made, drained a full mug of coffee and exited the house. Out at the porch, I was having a hard time deciding on which shoes to wear; whether my pair of worn off sneakers, or my Dunhill sport shoe OR regular school shoes. I decided on neither and took off with my bother’s shoes, saving my precious shoes from the poos that might litter the track. Mean? Thank you. You can count on me to pull on pranks. Mom reached to a halt at the school porch and we exchanged goodbyes, promising to meet again at two.


A flash in the Eye
The morning was quite lurid, considering the fact that I was one of the early birds and having peeps that arrived at school late. I engulfed myself at Parkside (Replica) until Shasha from Mars came and dropped a bomb in my ears.
“Ony is not coming to school today. She’s caught with a fever”. Yes she managed to bomb me into pieces of shattered glasses.
That’s like next to impossible- the fact that Ony had my History notes and was absent to school. A sudden wrath boiled under my skin but I managed to slow down the fire. My temper dwindled and I controlled myself, consoling myself that it wasn’t a huge albatross. Shasha from Mars wrapped me up with a conversation I couldn’t detach myself from. Not until Elissa came and pulled me right out.
We chatted again until the Exco of the block required everyone to unglue their from their seats for a half an hour exercise. Aifa and a few other conducted the session (which included muscle-stretching and star jumping), giving her the perks up since it was her birthday- *kicks* joke. It wasn’t until half an hour later, horde of students were shepherded to the starting point. A few minutes went by until the amplifier in the hands of a teacher crackled to sound.
“Semua yang memakai baju pj putih sekolah, sila ke hadapan segera.”
Everyone’s face were as white as a chalk (Lailati and Intan!). The ones with white shirts on were extracted from the crowd and coalesced in another area. Everyone questioned with curiosity as to why this peculiar flick was going on. It seems that they were given penalty for going against the rules; Lower forms were only allowed to wear their house tees, blue and yellow tees or the latest purple one.The unlucky ones were disqualified and were required to stir ‘bubur asyura’ with their bare hands. G to the R to the O and double ass.
“Even Usain Bolt couldn’t win a competition if he was against the rules”, someone bellowed from a corner.
The buzzer rang and all the students (sheeps) stared to break their steps. I jogged with Elissa 9a major sprinting athlete who couldn’t win in slow jogs like this), Nab and Naj, halting for second breaths before jogging again. Time flew like dust until an hour passed and we were approaching the finishing line when we saw ‘kak Ilya’, our house leader bellowing “time is depleting. Run-run- RUN”. My heart gave a leap and realization hit me. The brusque bouts stung me like a bee sting and I started sprinting until I actually crossed the finishing line. Passing the finishing line is like having your first kiss. Gah, incredible. We registered the ‘one’ mark we got at the counter and took a seat for replacing the insufficient storage of oxygen in my lungs. All of a sudden, blue-coloured lungs flashed in my vision. Random. It was then when I realize I was pranked. For about another half an hour, students filed in and registered their marks. We actually weren’t the dregs of the horde. I sent a silent prayer to God and swore something I didn’t realized. I felt like I was trapped in a burlap and suffocating to death. I was also pretty sure that I smelt of stale sweat (hehe) and miasmic.
We headed to class and did nothing in particular. Elissa brought her MP4 but ended up not touching it at all, though, lady Gaga’s ‘Bad Romance’ kept replaying in my mind. We wasted four precious hours rambling around for comfort and a spot we actually fitted wherever instinct allowed like a plug looking for its socket. In the assembly later that day, the results were announced.
First place: Semarak Api (259 points)
Second place: Angsana (240 points)
Third pace: Seri pagi (209 points)
Fourth place: Melati (156 points)

The Finishing Touch
At the end of the hectic day, I found myself still lamenting the “Malaysian Maritime academy pursuer”, though, I let myself believe “times heals everything” which proved to be nothing but a white lie. It’s rhetorical, ain’t it?
Back home, I paired up with Dickson through the net and dug worm holes to find out about “The Missing Case of He Who Told NAVY Earned Bullshit”. Life is so bitter.

Pee-Ass: I feel bad for Aifa for being disqualified but I’m not sure why I’m euphoric either.
: Diana lost Replica number 2. *RaWR*