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.