Update

Now thats all for chpt 1. Im going to start of slower now, and gradually up the tempo. Not bad rite>? haha.. tune in to see what happens to our hero.. and by the way, theres been sum glitches so if u see sum weird symbols, there prolly mean an aprostaphy( i hope this is how u spell it).. so enjoy! thats the end of chpt 1, by the way.. the first part is in the febuary section, so do check it out!

As for the pics and the new blog layout, Sharmeel Adam rajaratnam is helping me out on this score. Sharm and i go way back, and hes totally enthusiastic to get his photo taking skills into play! HIs few shots, unedited have been wonderful, so im like waiting impatiently for his next magic act.. haha..

Dis jacket is damn nice rite? im going to get it made.. too bad its like a womans 's jacket lah..

I love the buttons lah.. the cut is wonderful.. ill get it made one day, prolly in thailand where its cheaper.. haha.. and how about this arty thing? Kinda got me thinking...

I have no idea how this picture correlates to my story, but its about a guy in a green jacket( albeit with a bird) so i guess it does have some meaning.. haha.. laterz

Chpt 1- Part 2

Ilyas walked dejectedly through the screaming mass of bodies looking around for an empty seat. Everywhere, students in the maroon uniform of St Albert’s or still in the uniforms of their respective secondary schools were smiling, laughing, having a fun time at break. A second year boy with his maroon shirt un-tucked was flirting shamelessly with a girl in a light blue uniform, probably from Louis Batton Secondary. The girl laughed, lightly picking at the sleeve of the boy, who was showing her his biceps, with manly pride. His friends were riotous, shouting encouragements, some even throwing bits of food at him.

Ilyas ignored them. He yawned, and the tray in his hand jiggled. He felt as if his eyes were on fire, and had been feeling it since he got up this morning. His body ached badly; he thought his part-time job over the holidays seemed not to have agreed with him. With watery eyes he searched lackadaisically for a place to park, but all seemed chaotic and full to him. He sighed. Class had been difficult. He had failed to grasp anything the teachers had said, his mind seemed to be dulled by his fatigue. Twice, he had caught himself from falling asleep. He was lucky, though. The entire day had been about administration: school rules, school song, school uniform. Nothing much of importance. Only Mrs Lee had begun teaching her subject, Advanced Maths, and Ilyas had her pegged for a psycho ever since she dragged him to the principal’s earlier that morning.

Well, who could say now that he was a boring person with no fun experiences? At least he had some worthy anecdotes to introduce himself to his new classmates. Not that it mattered. He saw his classmates sitting in relative quiet, an island of solitude if you will, and thought of joining them. But they were deep in conversation, and Ilyas suddenly felt rather alone. He had missed out on the orientation camp before school term began, having to work on those days the camp was held. He regretted his decision not to take a leave of absence to attend that camp.

It seemed that everyone knew everyone else. Ilyas checked his step as a group of boys in green joyously backslapped a boy in white stripes on black, calling him an unfanciful name as the boy in stripes blushed. Ilyas tried to maneuver around them, and nearly bumped into a girl who timidly tapped a boy, and hugged him with a wide smile when he turned around, squealing in recognition as they boy looked quizzical.

He stopped beside a group of second-year girls sitting in a group of six. They were gossiping loudly, voices punctuated by giggles. He wondered whether he should get on a table and really scout the area. It seemed to him his vantage point at the moment was yielding the same result as the previous one. There was not a single empty seat to be had. Ilyas began to frown, as he swept the room with his hazel eyes.

The long rows of table were mostly clean, but getting messier as students ate the wonderful food. In the brochure that Ilyas had picked up back in secondary school, St Albert’s was renowned for their canoe-polo team, horse riding, fencing, archery and their food was constantly billed as excellent. Ilyas glanced at his tray. The steak looked good, but the salad looked quite damp and weak, the dressing clear. The drink was green, and he gave a distasteful look at it. Who ever heard of a green drink? He hated the colour, anyway. Made him think of the vomit he had regurgitated from Aunt Elly’s Salad the other night.

He looked at the salad again, studying the weedy appearance of the vegetables. With haste born of disgust, he chucked the entire dish into the nearest bin, and breathed a sight of relief. If he had taken any longer, he would have been unable to eat anything at all. Weakling, he thought to himself.

Once again, he looked up, searching for a place to sit. He noticed a few spaces, but they seemed to have been reserved for mates who were queuing up. He was starting to wonder when he would actually begin eating, when he noticed one of the girls from the gossiping group looking at him. She was staring at him, unblinking, drinking a milkshake in a clear glass, her lips formed in an ‘O’. Her big expressive eyes seem to devour him, and Ilyas suddenly felt pretty warm in the air-conditioned hall.

She seemed to stare at him for ages, and Ilyas tried to keep his eyes on hers, but somehow, every few seconds he would feel the urge to look away. He tried to look for a seat again, but his glance kept wandering to the girl, who drank her milkshake steadily, eyes still plastered on him. She finished her drink with a soft slurping sound, and then burped into a napkin. She resumed looking at Ilyas, making him feel his cheek warm up with sudden heat.

"Hello." She was talking to him! She seemed to speak with very little effort, as if from a dream, but Ilyas could hear her over the billion-decibel noise. Her friends were still giggling, all of them slapping their thighs or covering their mouths at a redhead who seemed to be telling bits of random gossip with enthusiasm, doing impressions of who the gossips were about. She ignored them. It seemed her whole attention was fixed on him, and only him.

Ilyas felt his mouth go dry. He tried to swallow, to get some juice into his mouth but he couldn’t. His feet began to sweat, and his stomach started to tingle. He tried to look cool, to ignore that quaking feeling from the pit of his stomach. With much effort, he steadied his hands and nodded at her, trying a smile on for size. A student from East Anglican High saw Ilyas’s face from across the hall and guffawed at his constipated look, signaling to his friend beside him who joined in the merriment.

"What’s your name, handsome?" she said in a voice that was poured honey, playing with her straw while still looking earnestly at him. The simple action of twirling was suddenly very beautiful to Ilyas, and he seemed to be hypnotized by it. It took a moment for him to realize a question would require an answer. Unfortunately, he didn’t remember what the question was about.

"MMhhm?" was the best he could do, and he silently kicked himself for being so good with words. He vowed he would do better, so he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry?"

Ilyas noticed the sudden quiet. The laughter had subsided, and the rest of the girls were looking at him, some interestedly, some with smiles. The red head was frowning at the girl who was talking to Ilyas. She saw the look on Ilyas’ face and shook her head slowly, her frown seeming to deepen, and she chucked her napkin forcefully into her empty bowl.

"She asked you what your name was, fool." The red-heads voice was gravelly, though Ilyas guessed she could sing alto if she wanted to.

"Ilyas," he said, looking at the girl with the big eyes. He felt like it was the right thing to do, so he bowed, his tray infront of him balanced well between his two hands.

Some of the girls started to giggle behind closed mouths. A tall, attractive girl with long black hair had her face covered but her shoulders were shaking. Ilyas didn’t notice. He was riveted to those enchanting eyes. The noise had become a distant squeak, and the crowd of students had vanished. It was only him and her, and he felt a sudden joy that he fiercely quelled. He had to keep it cool.

The girl, stood up, and motioned for the rest to do the same. "We’re done here, Ilyas. You can sit if you wish." She was a little shorter than him, but she seemed to radiate a sort of warmth that he hadn’t felt the entire day. His hands were clammy now, and his throat was slightly wetter, but his stomach was still doing jumping jacks.

The girl walked towards him, and smiled. The effect was dazzling. The pearly white teeth complemented her milky white skin, and her dark hazel eyes topped it all off. And those lips! Ilyas suddenly felt a crazy urge to run his finger along those lips. He returned her smile slowly, wanting to stretch the moment. As she walked past him, eyes still on him, he smelled her perfume, light but wonderful and his head spun.

"Its Lois," she smiled, fingering the lettering on his grey jacket, gazing deep into his eyes. "You know, like Lois and Clark? Do you like it?" At his nod, she tapped his nose gently, and Ilyas nearly jumped at the contact. "Ill see you around, huh?"

Ilyas nodded once, entranced. She turned her head away with what he fancied was reluctance, waving goodbye as she turned away. The rest of the girls followed her, glancing at him as they walked by, some smiling, others winking. The red head though, was last, and she didn’t look at him at all. He had smiled to all of the rest, but when he flashed a quick smile at her, the red head turned away. But as she came nearer, she appraised him with deep green eyes, looking up and down and shaking her head as if she disproved of his dress sense.

"Nice jacket, fag." She rolled her eyes, and patted him daintily on the shoulder. "Try harder, eh? Grey’s not your colour." She smiled, very brittely, and suddenly shouldered him aside with a sudden strong body check that took Ilyas completely by surprise.

Ilyas staggered, overbalanced, his shoe stuck in some spilled jelly. He managed to save his tray with the grace of the Almighty, his tray dancing as he tried to find the balance for himself and the tray. Unfortunately, the cup of green goo he couldn’t save, and it ended up flat on his tray, casting itself onto his expensive grey jacket. He watched aghast as it began to drip onto his pants, his light grey jacket stained dark green by the offensive mixture that was in his cup.

The girl turned, and saw her handiwork, and she preened, awfully proud. She laughed, a loud rash laughter, and shook her head. "There you go! Green Suits you much better, fag. Ill see you around, loser." She turned on her heels and walked away, explaining in a loud voice to anyone who would hear about what happened.

He stared angrily at the redhead. He was made to look like a fool! He spied the Lois looking over her perfect little shoulder and flashing her pearly white teeth as the tall, good looking girl told her what the red-head had done. Ilyas felt himself blush. He threw his tray on to the table. Quickly, he glanced down at his plate, and forced himself to eat. His hunger had totally disappeared, and he felt almost burning hot. Ignoring the laughter that was being directed at him, he took off his jacket and dropped it onto the bench beside him.

The jacket was a mess. The stain would never disappear, and he looked sadly at the jacket he had bought with his last paycheck. He had worked everyday, waking up at five in the morning and slogging through to late evening, sometimes till ten at night. It had taken him a month to get that jacket. Now it was just so much thrash.

He felt his stomach growl, but he didn’t feel like eating. He tried force-feeding himself, but it was no use. Dirtying his jacket, his only possession of worth, had taken away his appetite and given him ominous tiding for his Junior college life. He tried to calm down by taking deep breaths, and succeeded. Probably Mr. Tien at the dry cleaners could get rid of the stains for him. He regularly did wonders for Ilyas’ mum when she had stains on her office clothes. He felt his stomach rumble again. He needed to eat! He tried a mouthful of the steak, and nearly threw up. He dropped his fork in disgust, as the bell rang, signaling the end of break. Perfect, he thought. What else could go wrong?

He heard a loud rip behind him, and saw an elderly woman wearing a cleaning uniform, forcing a green grey cloth from beneath her trolley laden with cleaning equipment. Ilyas nodded at her, turned to get his ruined jacket and go. It wasn’t there anymore. He did a double take, and his jaw dropped as the old woman gave a sheepish smile, one tooth gold while the rest where yellowed with age.

"Is this yours, my son?" said the cleaner apologetically, as she handed Ilyas’ a pile of rags that was once grey and now was green, and torn practically in half. Ilyas sighed, picked up his tray, and stood up. He didn’t look at the woman.

"You can keep it, Auntie. I think you’ll need it more than I do."

As Ilyas walked away, the woman smiled to herself. The cloth would be excellent on Principal Mormon’s windows. She always had trouble getting the birds dropping off, but with that cloth it would be easy. She whistled tunelessly as she pushed her trolley towards the principal’s office.