I haven’t blab on INTEC for a while, have I?

There are 9 girls and 9 guys in my class, MEG3. We the 18 Mousketeers are a bunch of happy grapes, though a bit eccentric depending on the topic at hand.

Our class rep is this goatee from Terengganu who seems to be erupting this funny aura and thick accent wherever he goes. He could repeat himself twice and I still yet to decode him.

Let he be known as Fahmi, though he likes to call himself ketua.

Duh.

The vice class rep is the one thumping her forehead everytime she feels like. The one being constantly frozen in class, due to her unfortunate choosing of placement, which is directly under the fan and in line with the blaring air-cond.

"Siapa penolong?" Ustazah asked.

I raised my hand. "Atiqah."

"Syafiqah?"

"Atiqah."

"Oh, Ikah."

"Atiqah."

"Okay, Atiqah."

Though they call me Atiqah, ketua keens on calling me penolong. I haven’t notice whether he still does; I lost track of time.

We’ve got tonnes of assignment, all of which I haven’t done anything but scouraging for info.

We had this patient-doctor interaction [whereby I was unfortunately paired with Fahmi] of taking medical history, something I’ve none trouble or so.

We had to perform it in front of the class, something I’ve none trouble or so.

But I was awkward. Something happened out of plan, and I went haywire. I kept edging on my seat, preparing to bolt back towards my seat.

"Why are you looking so nervous? Haven’t you met a male doctor before?"

Or so was his line. And his pose. Man. I wish I was back teaching at SRI.

"What?" Increduously. My mandible was hanging. Kamil laughed.

News, doc. Small talk is to relieve the patient’s nervousness, not adding it!

And our teacher said, "Are you flirting with her?"

Class laughed.

I nearly puke myself. Get this over with!

And it was over. We never spoke of it again.

Though we have another role play to come. I’ll give him a piece of my mind when we get down to it.

And I better go now. Lapar.

There is an ISK [This is Our History] program at Masjid Munawwarah today and I’m supposed to be present. The reason for the truant was simple.

My parents and the gang came over to Shah Alam!

Mama brought me a huge plastic bag of keropok, kuih baulu and some flavoured tea from Cameron Highland. I looked at the bulge and remarked, "Seems like I won’t have to buy nasi for a week."

And the saved money could be use to indulge myself with the prospect of buying a laptop of my own. I shall decorate it with FMA stickers.

Mama told me Yaya missed me. She tagged along when the folks accompanied me during INTEC registration day and the day they went back to Kelantan, she took up the residency of my bed.

And fell out the next morning.

Mama said the fall was bad. She had a huge cut on her lips and her left cheek bruised heavily, as if someone had just bashed the poor kid out.

I know she must have cried. Though she is tough [by kid standard], she is not that tough.

It took a while to recover. Luckily it was the school holls, so she didn’t have to skip school.

Yaya was never a soft-hearted girl at first glance. She’s bossy, perhaps even bossier than me.

Though she could be girly at time. Like, when she ran/yelled for cover when Hakim happily ran after her, threatening her with his plastic toy car.

Her annoying tendency to buy Barbie stuffs.

And her fetish with pink. Though she seems to be keen with blue nowadays.

You know how I hate piercing? Well, she hates it too. She only wore half of her pair of earrings, since she backed off after the first shot.

See, I’ve told you piercing hurts.

p/s: Do read my blog. I once wrote about her Teacher’s Day gift to me. I like her.