That Melody

Chapter 20

Bunga pov

The students all walk into the classroom in lippitude and the aura of inertia emanating from each one.

It was a depressing sight and the only answer to rid the world of it, would be to make school later in the day with less hours in each lesson but no one is quite ready for that.

I trudge into the classroom with half an hour of sleep, 1 litre of Lucozade and some Roti canai powering me. I see Chai with his book blockade guarding him from the nosy teachers who want to catch the sleeping students like him.

I sit next to Dah-ah, "Chai looks tired," she whispers as the teacher walks up to her desk and register. "Is he alright?"

"I guess genius never sleeps," I shrug. "Not sure what that makes me."

"A scarred but smart student," she suggests. "With an smarter student attached at the hip."

"Shut up," I groan. "He's... he's... he's kunyang."

"Kunyang?" she asks. "You really using Korean on me."

"Well I'm not going to use Bengali on you am I?" I retort. 

"Miss Bonolo!" the teacher exclaims. "Mind sharing with the class what you are discussing."

"We're discussing language," I shrug. "Dan-ah's language, Zaina's language, and if we got further Dan-ah would have most probably brought up my lack of ability in my own language."

The teacher pauses dumbfounded, not expecting an answer. Before he can respond I cut him off, "I know you weren't expecting an answer sir, shall I just head off to detention in the afternoon? My dad's working late anyway so I'm most probably just going to be eating instant noodles because I can't be bothered to cook."

"Mum's making fish curry," Zaina calls. 

"Mum's making bibimbap," Dan-ah also crys out.

Farzana says "Mum's making fulab."

"Mum's making Green curry," the only male suggester says. That person being Chai who is taking a break from 'resting his eyes'.

"Ugh," the three girls say. 

Dan-ah leans forward to look at Chai, "Shut up Chai, we would also like to spend time with our friend as well."

"It's not my fault she likes Thai cuisine the best when she can't get Malaysian food."

"Need I remind you that this is a class room?" the teacher calls out. 

"Should we fight over her in the hallway sir?" Zaina asks. "That seems a bit counterproductive."

"Miss Begum, please..."
"Sir, this about the fate of your student," Farzana says. "It's more important."

"Should I send you all to detention?" the teacher says. "Don't you Asians get beat for getting in trouble at school."

"Yah," all the Asians in the class exclaim. "Sir, that's racist."

"Mostly true," I add. "But racist."

"Alright which one of the five of you won't get beat or lectured," the teacher asks not bothered.

Both Chai and I raise our hands, "The class toppers, understandable."
"Really sir, you are being quite racist right now," Farzana squeaks. 

"What? She said it's true," the teacher shrugs. "I don't mean any offence by this, I'd rather save you the trouble."

"Then let the class end," I say. "Neither I and it seems like also Chai got any sleep last night so I let us rest up before our next class."
"But Bunga, you didn't choose who you're going to eat with," Zaina whines.

I look over at Chai tempted by the Green curry offer, he shakes his head slightly and mouths 'Kar woo'.

Good idea.

"None of you," I exclaim dramatically slightly drunken but I'm sober. "Class genius gave me another option."

"Miss Bonolo," the teacher says. "I hope you haven't had a drink before attending class."

"Chai! Sir thinks I'm drunk." 

"I'm ringing Uncle now..." he says getting out his phone.

"No phones in class," he announces. 

The dialing sound echoes through the classroom, "Uncle," Chai says loudly as he puts the phone on loud speaker. 

"Chai..." I hear Dad say. "Aren't you meant to be in class?"

I hear people whisper through the classroom, 'Shinawatra has Bonolo's Dad's phone number'. 

"I am in class," he says in a soldier like tone. "I called because the teacher just accused a 'powered by glucose' Bunga of being drunk. He also made some slightly racist comments."

"Should I report him?"

All eyes on the teacher as his own widen. "Mr Bonolo!" he begins.

"Is that him?" Dad asks. "Tell him Bunga doesn't drink and will not drink, and tell him that just because a stereotype is true doesn't mean that it's any less racist if a person from another race makes a comment about it."

A symphony of ooos is heard through the classroom even from the Caucasian kids. 

"Preach!" a kid called Fahad yells. "Bunga, you're dad is awesome."

"Thank you, random student," Dad says with a slight chuckle. "I've got to get back to work kid, I'll see you around alright."

"Later Uncle Vusumuzi," he responds, the call cuts off. "Class dismissed right?" Chai chuckles looking at the teacher. "Come on, Bunga, the Weight of Our Sky is in the library now, get it before someone else does." 

"Coming," I say standing up. "You're welcome guys, we've successfully wasted half an hour of maths."

Together we leave the classroom followed by the rest of the class. Now with a forced free period for the next half hour.