Chapter 4 FOUR

Perils (A Poem)

I found neither raptures nor ardor

In a place of ghouls with lustful desire, instead of lore.

An escape is an impasse.

Where to go under the alarm of threat?

Where to run in the middle of dark twilight?

As my remembrance of a filthy gramp

in that perilous place seizes me,

A huge burden hangs in my heart

Tie my soul into the void

Like a strong tug that drowns me

in the ocean of woes, breathless.

To avoid demise,

I crawl up to the surface of my sense

That nightmare follows

But, surrender is not on my to-do list.

***

A big clock in the school hall tolling seven times signaled that first class would get started in fifteen minutes; instead of heading to my classroom, my feet dragged me to the bulletin board where the poem of the day was published. At that huge board, my rounded eyes scanned each part of it to spot the luck of mine being displayed among other forms of writings and as soon as it was pinned there, my heart jolted in joy at it.

"Thank God," my palm covered my gape mouth, restraining the joyfulness of thinking of money I would receive as a form of recognition for my published poem that almost spouted my lips.

In excitement, I initiated to directly go to the school editor room; a bob-haired girl with a sweet smile hanging on her lips and deep dimples, Vera, in a friendly voice, allowed me to get in. The warmth I didn't remember the last time I experienced it blended with a comfortable atmosphere as soon as my feet landed inside

"Are you," her eyebrows arched, recalling my name, "EL?" She ensured my pen name once I had positioned myself at the seat across from her.

With a convincing nod, I confirmed. "Yes, it's me."

"Ah...El...that's your pseudonym, right? May I know your real name?" She, in her doubtful eyes, inquired. "Well, it is only if you don't mind."

"My name's Ilana." That spontaneous short name spurted out of my mouth.

In our first meeting, this girl, Vera impressed me with her nice demeanor; her action and words sufficed to reveal how kind she was toward other people and despite bad treatment I received from other students, through the way Vera treated me, I believed that good person did exist.

"Thank you for sending your amazing poem to our department. Here's a little payment that we can give." Her palm shoved the thin white envelope on the table toward me. "I am wondering if you are interested in joining our editorial team as I can see your great potential."

"I do appreciate your offer. Yet, working as a part of the editor team is demanding to me; I am afraid, in my situation this time, I can't handle it."

"No worries. You can reach out to me if you have changed your mind." Excusing myself, I exited out of the editor's room with the envelope in my hand containing money that I could add into my savings later.

Without a watch on my wrist, I had no idea what time it was; I hurtled through the corridor to take the stairs as always to get to my classroom.

"Hi, Ilana." A voice at my rear jerked me up; I immediately peeked over my shoulder at someone who was a few feet away. Reno, awkwardly, approached me with an old book he pinched in his fingers; his presence showered me with discomfort, what was his intention this time?

"If it is about a pen, just forget it, then. You don't owe me anything."

"No, it is...,"

"Then, there is nothing we should talk about "

"I wonder if you have read this book." He passed the book he was holding in his hand to me; my eyes widened in awe at the book, poem collections by Maya Angelou, which had moved to my palm now, it was the book I was eager to read. "You can have it." How did this boy get to know that I was an avid reader? Not wanting to be close to him, I kept that question in my mind.

"I will return it to you as soon as I finish it."

"Nah...that's yours now. Besides, I have read it many times.

"There is not such a free lunch in this world. I am not interested in keeping it after all." Luna, after that short conversation, initiated to continue her steps, his swift query stopped her.

"Can we befriend?"

My world was too dark for him to get himself into; living in deprivation, the word friendship seemed too far for my hand to touch it. However , this persistent boy would not easily give up to knock at my door to make a friend with me as he didn't leave his place even though I refused to reply to his request.

"Let's befriend, Ilana." His repeated words caught me where I was. Honestly It was such a touching moment for me; a student finally accepted me in this school besides Vera and my heart fluttered in happiness at it. Nevertheless, with my bad experience, putting a trust in someone except my mother was even hard for me.

"What a stubborn boy," I hissed, which contradicted how I felt inside toward him; gratefully he didn't catch my words.

"Congratulations, anyway." To his sudden utterance of congratulating me, I turned my head to him once more.

"For what?"

"For your poem, I know it is your poem which has been selected as the poem of the week." This nerdy boy, beyond my expectations, read that poem on the bulletin board and could guess that EL was me.

"Thanks," In a flat tone, I muttered my gratitude, and then set off to my classroom.

***

This classroom, as busted and noisy as the night market, could accommodate over thirty students in it with the air conditioning that cooled not only our body but our brain for studying and digesting piles of the lesson the teachers fed into us.

The long haired teacher in a slim torso, after one minute of me entering the classroom, stepped inside and this was civic class, the subject I despised the most. The topic bored me; we studied about citizen rights, the right to have a good life, which, in reality, meant nothing as only the rich people had access to it.

Other than that, politics related matters also opened my mouth in yawn. The potentates fought and bled for the throne, not for their people; I abhorred their selfish act and imaging which concealed the falsity behind their fake sincerity to add more hypocrisy into public consumption.

To the boring lecture in front of the class, I hid my head behind the standing textbook on my desk, hoping the teacher didn't find me showing disinterest with the lesson. It was not me the only one who disliked being in this class; the boredom emerged on most faces of the students in this room.

"Ilana, can you mention the content of article 33 verses 1 to 3?" I lifted my chin to that abrupt question thrown at me; my blank head with a tiny brain didn't provide me with an answer.

As a reserved person, being engaged in a discussion didn't pique my interest; besides no one would notice me no matter how much I talked.

That gorgeous teacher surrendered in my silence, she diverted to other students who might volunteer to respond to her question. The smartest person in my class, Reno, saved our day; he voluntarily explained the answer perfectly.

"Excellent, Reno. Thank you." Her lips spread in a smile of satisfaction.

I could finally breathe out of relief when the bell rang, indicating the class was over; that stunning teacher abandoned the classroom with the assignment, the habit she loved to do to trap us in studying at home.

***

My feet raced with the rumbles in my stomach that I had to endure on my way home; this time, no sandwiches my hand could fish out of my pocket. Luck would not fall on my side everyday; I should accept my fate of battling with hunger.

The book from Reno dangled in my hand and created the fatigue on it; my bag was not big enough to keep all the books inside it. Reno refused to accept his book back when I aimed to return it to him in the library today; that boy, instead of talking about the book, he inquired about my address which I didn't spill to him. Why did he need to know where I lived?

After strolling through the long route from school to the slum area where my small rented house stood, my steps came to a halt in front of the shed-like house. Minding my steps through the tarnish path toward my house, I ran to the door with frenzy behind it; the kitchen utensils flew over my head as soon as I unlocked the door.

My father, in outrage, wrecked and damaged everything he saw; only debris scattering the earthy floor with my mother crouching in the corner my vision caught. With a devastated heart, I got to my mother and gave her a big hug, with the hope to protect her from my father's wrath.

"You...," My father towed the collar of my shirt and moved his palms under my chin; his strangle on my neck didn't spare me to breathe. "Tell me where you keep that money from your uncle."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." His slap landed on my face. Then, he, as if being possessed, dragged my fragile body out of the house and tossed me to the ground.

What he did attracted the crowds of the people; unfortunately, with my father's savage reputation, there was nothing they could do but watch my anguish being kicked and assaulted in front of the public like a big sinner.

"No...help..help....," My mother's voice echoed in my ears.

"Stop it." And this time, the voice didn't come out my mother's mouth but someone I was familiar with. "Please don't hurt her."