Again Shauqina

Chapter 5: Tuition

  Isaac was becoming more and more annoying. At least to me, that is. He was good at looking cold and aloof when he wanted to and friendly and approachable when the mood struck him. However, he mainly remained icy cold towards me, as if I was his worst adversary from another life. The guys tolerated his grumpiness and left him alone. He was however, a shotgun on the tracks. He was the first boy to beat Wilma for the dash, something which Wilma did not seem to mind. She was even bragging about the defeat! However, Isaac, contrary to his 'Casanova' reputation, did not seem to enjoy, nor encouraged the coquettishness of the girls around him and seemed to feign ignorance. He hardly even smiles. In fact, I have never seen him smile at me. Wilma was, understandably, the most stricken by him out of all the girls in my tutorial group and I thought they looked really good together—grey-green eyes meet dark caramel ones. However, Isaac seemed to be of a different opinion. He was polite around her but that was all there was to it. No Romeo-ness from him, to say the least. I tried to avoid him whenever I could but since we were in the same tutorial group that was not happening as often as I wished.

We were in a heated discussion of whether John Donne was a morphology genius or a masked pervert when Isaac came, said 'Hi!' and just plonked his royal self on a nearby empty chair. I would have cursed that chair for being unoccupied if not for the fear of the curse dropping back down on my own good self. Disregarding our opened mouths, he declared matter-of-factly, 'Genius... and a pervert, of course.'

Sammy, however, was not amused and neither was he going to let Isaac off the hook so easily nor sit in that blessed chair. All of us had gathered at our table after school and Isaac was definitely not a member of our study group.

'Brother, why are you here?'

Even Kumar did not look too happy. He held his arms tightly and sat back on his chair. For the first time, he was not smiling and looked somewhat dangerous.

Isaac made a noise that fell short of a smirk and a sigh.

'Cikgu Mirza's orders. And Miss J's arrangement.'

Then he pointed insolently at me.

'Miss J called me to her office and told me in no few words that your Literature, Miss Hafeza is wanting. You are a good reader and what nots...but she fears you would not catch up in time for the test. And I got called up by Cikgu Mirza too. He feels that my Malay is too—British, if you know what I mean.'

'Excuse me? Meaning?' I countered, still trying to comprehend what Isaac just uttered. It amused me not that he called me 'Miss Hafeza.' All eyes were now on me. I wished I had a veil to hide the crimsonness of my cheeks. Gerry held on to my arms.

'Cikgu Mirza has asked me to get a Malay tutor...'

I was beginning not to like the conversation. Escape pod anyone? Anywhere?

'So?' I tried to sound as insolently cool as I could. I doubt I was successful.

'Elementary my dear lady—you, my Malay tutor and I, your Literature tutor. It's an exchange kind of thing so no payment involves okay?' Then he laid back on that blessed chair as if the tuition matter was closed and agreed upon.

The expression on my face must have been tragic-comical for the rest started to laugh, except Kumar, Isaac and me. I was speechless because the point was, Isaac spoke the truth. While I 'dig' Literature voraciously, I still grappled at metaphors, similes and all the technical Literature jargon. I was a fast learner but not fast enough. It is the truth too that I could never afford a tutor. My Malay Language, in truth too, was way ahead of my other friends who took that as a second language. Five years under skilled Malay Language teachers and surrounded with my own community in the madrasah made my Malay Language prowess something of an envy to most.