On That Day

Chapter 15 - COLLECTION OF RECOLLECTIONS

MORNING

Cartoons should be from 7 to 8am. Always exactly that. And Scythe has told me that the cartoons would be longer this morning. So excited, I was.

''Hope you remember your promise?''

''Yeah-Yeah.''

''Good, and be fast''

''Look here, don't Disturb me, or I promise I'm going to call it off''

I had eaten; 6am. Now, Scythe came, with a triumphant smile on his face, and called me over.

''I'm ready''

''So, you're going to call the TV station now? Ain't you?''

''No'' surprised look; 'I'm just going to . . . get me a stool. Fast.''

If it was the stool that would persuade the T.V authorities, then fine. I was very fast.

Scythe put the stool very near the wall, then – climbed it – and – got down the clock – and held it in front of me!

''What's that? That's your deal?!'' said I, incredulous

''Yeah? Don't you know if I change the time, to 7am from 6:15, the cartons will start to show at once?''

Very fishy. But I decided to try it out. But, first, Scythe said he had work to do. This was not really work, as he was just preparing for school. Then Scythe got his bag, wore his shoes, got his belt, and took the time from '40 to o'clock.

I switched on the T.V, half expecting to see Tyson with the Blades. But I waited for TEN whole minutes – I heard a loud wooden sound – jolted out of my trance, and saw that Scythe had taken off: to school, And I was duped

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That was a while ago.

Primary Three, my new class; my (possibly) worst class – was located in the second school building, recently completed, down the street in the North.

Primary Three, the class itself, was located at the Right, and then in the center of the building, downstairs, with the secondary school students all upstairs.

Do I remember anything from this loathsome class? Yes, I do.

First day;

The class smells of cement, and is very small. Luckily there are not many of us – just about ten. We all leave our books at school in the Crib at the back of the class, which is in charge of the Class-Captain.

It is in charge of the Class-Captain because the Class-Captain is in charge of it: if any book gets torn or lost, then the Captain would be held responsible. This happened everytime (due to classmates' malice), so the typical captain was a pupil with a worried face and a dead middle-finger tip (due to copying notes for the person whose book is missing).

The Captain had their share of fun, though. The Captain was in charge of writing names of ''noisemakers'', so they usually used this opportunity to avenge themselves on anyone whom they bore a grudge against.

Nister comes to my mind now.

He was a cheerful sadist. Nothing other than that. I believe I may have overestimated (in this record) his degree of closeness to me: I so hated him – for a period, mind.

Once, he wrote my name in the ''noisemakers'' list, so I was caned. I ''dusted'' it, and Nister then told the Tutor that I had ''dusted'' the cane – dusting my shirt (like Ronaldo does when he sees Red), hence putting me in deep trouble. Let me shut all these from my sight, or I might ravage his reputation here.