"If there is anything I remember when I was seven, is the inside of the cupboard I was told to hide in after every day or two.
It was dark, dusty and reeked of rat's waste. I would crouch down in a compartment wherever Mum would put me. It was usually the larger one with plastic hangers hanging off a rod above my head. The wooden floor of that shelf always creaked below my weight everytime I tried to move even though I was all skin and bones," Aki paused.
"That is why Mum hated it when I moved, and would you believe what I once did?" He lets out a small laugh turning to look at me.
"I screamed!" He laughs again.
"I saw a rat, filthy and fat. It was right when the Children's Welfare Society had sent their regular guys to check up on Mum if she was illegally hiding a kid. I wonder how she got out of that one. She always inserted a handkerchief in my mouth after that." He leans back, crossing his arms underneath his head, staring up.
"But didn't she scare you?" My eyes blinking curiosity.
He thinks for a while then tilts his head.
"I don't know, maybe? Her eyes are what I remember the most. They never changed, you see? All the expressions she had, or the moods. Even when she was angry, sad or when she smiled, her eyes never smiled. They had this hollowness inside of them. They'd look like they're sucking you in, at first. But they were not black holes, just dead holes. Now that I recall, she didn't even look at me but her dead son in me. She called me Percy too, at times." He says with a thoughtful expression, his thumb on his chin.
I take in all the information, still thinking of Aki as the crazy kid and shoot another query out of a gazillion, carefully taking advantage of the rare moments when this lanky kid opens up.
"Why do you visit her then?"
"I don't. I write her letters. She's my mum. Why wouldn't I? She fed me, cared for me. I lost my mother, she lost her son, so we found one in another." A smile tugs at his lips and his eyes twinkle.
The chirping of the birds gets louder and the sky turns peachy, giving the sun an orange lining.
I scratch my earlobe and jump off the toddler slide we have been lounging on. This kid is strange indeed, I think to myself. I get it why Aunt Maria asks me to stay away from Aki. He's got a weird past, but every time I talk to him like this, I learn a lot about things I don't know. He is like the kid who tells me wizard stories—stories of a different world that doesn't clash with mine and probably never will.
And even as a eleven year kid, I think he is really mature for his age. I wonder why the elders can't see it.
"Hey Jasmine, you're leaving?" He calls out, still splayed across the toddler slide lazily, holding back a smile.
I glare at him and turn to leave, waving behind my back.
"See you tomorrow, Aki. Go home." Already knowing he'll stay there till dark. Afterall, there is no one waiting for him at home.
(Excerpt from A Bunch Of College Kids)