Chapter 12

Physical Education lesson – PE lesson – was the last lesson of the day. Some of the guys looked forward to PE but most of us dreaded it. During the hour-long lesson, we would do nothing but sit-ups, push-ups, shuttle-runs, sit-and-reach and the bloody hell torturing 2.4 km run.

One look at Chew Ling and people would guess that she is not a good friend with sports. The envy part about her was that she ate a lot; sometimes up to five meals a day, yet still sported a small frame.

“Crap. Runs again.” Chew Ling said when Mr. Chin yelled for us to begin our jog. “You know, two years ago, I took part in a house competition relay. I had to convince my house master a million times to let me represent my house! My opponent had very long legs. I knew I couldn’t outrun her in a straight line, so I tried to outrun her in the curve at the track as the curve takes techniques and skills. Guess what happened in the end?”

Her speech sounded so much like a scene from the movie “Initial D”.

“I overtook her in the curve! Cool, right? It’s like car racing, eh?”

“Go, go, go!” Mr. Chin said.

“Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines.” Chew Ling said as she sprinted towards the running track. She was the first like some primary school kids who always think that they can sprint for the whole marathon.

I started my pace slowly, intending to speed up in the second lap. Chew Ling was slowing down, as expected. She then started to walk – after less than a hundred metres. Two overtook her. Three. Four. Five.

“Shit.” I heard her saying when I ran past her.

She was wheezing, coughing and cursing at the same time. I turned and saw her walked unsteadily towards the side of the track.

I continued to run.

By my fifth deep breath, I turned again. Chew Ling was sitting on the grass, her head sandwiched between her knees. Even when I was at least two hundred metres away from her, I could hear her coughing and her struggle for breath. I sprinted towards her at a speed that would ace my shuttle-run.
Chew Ling spat to the side. Mucus was flowing out of her nose. Every breath she took was deep and wheezy, as if breathing had become a chore for her. She coughed every few seconds, those productive cough that sounded like there were thousands of phlegm balls in her throat.

“You okay?” Mr. Chin appeared out of nowhere and squatted beside Chew Ling. “Take a deep breath.”

“As-” Chew Ling said, coughed again and spat twice. Her lower lips were shaking and her face pale. “Asthma.”

“You got your relief inhaler?”

Chew Ling pointed to the table where we all put our bags. Mr. Chin ordered me to get her bag. I ran towards the table and looked for the NDP 2006 bag. Asthma won’t kill someone, right?

By the time I was back, all my classmates were crowding around Chew Ling. Mr. Chin got them to stand back. I ransacked Chew Ling’s bag and found a blue inhaler. Mr. Chin shook the inhaler and passed it to Chew Ling. Chew Ling did not even have the energy to take the inhaler: Her eyes were half-closed and every breath sounded like wind passing through a narrow opening in an enclosed room. Mr. Chin took out the cap, shook the inhaler again and said, “Breathe out now.”

Chew Ling exhaled aloud with a whistling sound.

Mr. Chin put the mouthpiece on her mouth and whispered, “Come on, girl.” Then he pressed the canister down and started to count. “One thousand, two thousand…”

Chew Ling’s eyes were red. When I realized that her hands and legs were shaking, I knew she was still trying to get air into her lungs. After Mr. Chin counted to ten seconds, he took the inhaler out. Chew Ling had stopped shaking and dropped to the ground, her lips trembling and her breath wheezy. She coughed every second and turned to spit out once or twice every few seconds.

“Someone, go to your bag, get your handphone and call 995.” Mr. Chin said. When all of us were rooted to the ground, still shaken by what happened, Mr. Chin yelled, “Call 995, now!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chew Ling was sent to the hospital within minutes. We were all dismissed an hour after that incident and Mr. Chin promised us that one of them would update us about Chew Ling’s condition. Some of the students who were too stunned took taxis home. A few had their parents to send them home. I took the MRT train and spent the hour-long journey thinking, tinkering and pondering.

When I reached home, I wanted to tell my mother about Chew Ling. But she was still sewing and then told me that John had not slept this early afternoon. I went back to my room and saw John asleep.
I carried John out of my room and put him on the sofa. “What?” my mother said.

“I need a rest.”

“Why? John needs-”

“One of my classmates nearly died today. Or maybe she’s dead.” I said. John was still sleeping soundly and my mother’s mouth stayed open for the next minute.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I took the penknife. There was no trace of blood at all; the dried blood had disappeared like how the pain disappeared every time after a slashing. It was shiny, sharp and bloodcurdling.

Pain-killer, I called it. It just numbs, it never stops the source.

The sound of the sewing machine echoed in the living room. I placed the blade on my hand. Was it a sin?

Forget-

How fragile is life? I wondered. Strong enough to keep us alive; yet weak enough to kill us. What the hell, what the bloody hell is life? Why are we always trying to buy that smile from the environment around us, when we know that we are just smiling for a photo?

What’s the use of projecting a photogenic image when the smile will be gone with the memory?

When the first dot of redness grew on my wrist, my phone rang. I nearly stabbed the whole blade into my skin. I moaned a little, put the penknife on the table and took the phone. It was from Zinc.

“Hello, Sunny.”

“Bye bye, Zinc.” I said.

“Bye.” he then hanged up.

What the hell?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I called Zinc after five minutes. I was expecting him to call back but he did not.

“Sunny!”

“Why did you hang up just now?”

I ran through the voice in my head again; it was not Zinc who wanted to talk to me now; I was the one who wanted a listening ear.

“You said bye. So I said bye.”

I fingered my hair, scratched my forehead and said, “You free now?”

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