The Staircase
Mr. Mad

"How to go to school on the first day. Fun no?" Ask my mother curious. If given a range of values from one to ten, of course I will answer the last range. The question seemed to explain how long my mother had longed for school. Even though they could not enjoy school a little longer, but the memories are still remembered until now.

"Yes, mom. Exclaims. At school I had a lot of friends. There were Budi, Randi, and Aga friends of mine last year who stayed in class."

"Your friend who lives in class?" Ask mom while frowning.

"Yes, mom. His name is Aga."

"Well, then you should go to school even more. That means it's very possible that out of twelve students there will be a class residence." Mother looked worried, mentioning the number of students in the first grade.

Dad sat in the living room listening to the radio, nodding. "That's it." Dimbrungs. "There were no good times, at school." I imitated the song on the radio.

"Ah, just say miss your ex." Signs of a long scolding will begin.

This morning, the sunlight that entered through the small holes on the leaf roof managed to wake me up. I got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. No water in the vat. The long drought has been almost a month. I'm on a strike at uncle's lake. The water remains the same. Not attractive.

I splashed the remaining water in the barrel into my hair. Wet origin. I cried in my heart.

"Have a shower?" Ask mother.

"It." Pointing at my wet hair.

"Dark bath, there's no water. It must be a face wash." Mother's guess is right. But I dodged.

"This is proof that my hair is wet, ma'am."

"That's it. Depart there! Later too late. Want to be like Aga?"

"Yes, no, ma'am." Wearing a brown uniform.

"Now, for the snack." Mother offered a coin of five hundred rupiah.

I greeted cheerfully as I said, "Thank you, ma'am."

Five hundred rupiahs can be exchanged for a bowl of porridge, a basket of kale contents, one ice chirp, and ten grains of candy.

I arrived at school on time, sitting on the chair I picked yesterday, one table with Aga. My chair of choice in front of the teacher's desk. At first Aga refused to sit in this chair. But I still insist. I told Aga to find another seat, but Aga still wants a table with me.

The wooden chair and table had been gnawed by termites. But it was still strong to hold back my body which was already somewhat contained, the effect of the recovery period a year ago.

There was a pencil on our table. There are mathematical formulas, alphabets, and some leaked answers.

I keep my bag in the drawer. Actually not worth to say the bag because it looks like a crackle bag. It is in this pocket that I keep multifunctional books, pencils, erasers, and bidis for counting. My book has three functions at once such as a notebook, picture book and task book. I don't have many books. This is the book my father bought a few days ago. On the cover depicted pink teletubbies.

"Looky your book, Ki." Aga fumbled at my book while chuckling softly.

I complained to my father for buying me a book that was pink. I don't like the color pink. Must have been made fun of by my friend. I looked at Aga cynically, she was silent for a moment.

Randi and Budi sat in the back corner. Randi says he's quieter sitting in the back. Budi said sitting in the back made him feel safe and peaceful. They both agree that the front desk is dangerous for students whose brains are mediocre. Not that I'm smart. But actually I had no other choice, yesterday only the seat in front of this was empty, there was no owner yet.

The incoming bells have been buzzing around with students who have just arrived, who are busy in the canteen, and who are wandering outside the classroom. Aga's eyes looked frightened. Occasionally Aga glanced back as if looking for a gap to get out of the trap.

"Ki, we move seats, yuk. There's empty space behind."

Behind us there is a little bit of space to occupy. From earlier on Aga glanced at him.

"The seat in this class has been neatly arranged, Ga. If we move seats, we're going to mess with this classroom."

"But I'm scared, Ki. Today's Mr. Mad's schedule in our class." Aga's devastated.

I wonder what Aga meant about Mr. Mad.

From the window, Nako seemed vaguely gawky grandfathers who passed in the hallway leading to our class. Her hair is bleached. His feet are like ex-veteran.

"Good morning." She held a short greeting while sitting in front of me and Aga. Carrying a thick book, gently tossed on the table. Aghast, shocked.

"Do you know who I am?" Ask the teacher in a firm voice. "That's ahead I'm no stranger to seeing. Aga, please introduce my name to your friends."

"Well, sir." Stammered. Aga stood trembling. "Friends. This is Mad sir, our math teacher. Already, sir." Aga's face was tense, pale, his lips were trembling like an inmate waiting for the seconds of his execution. They're holding back laughter.

"Have you heard?" Ask Mad while standing.

"It's sir." Simultaneously.

Mr. Mad approached me, "What's your name?" Removing her glasses as if my face would be clear without those glasses.

"My name is Aki, sir." Answer me swiftly.

"You're in that corner, who?" Pointing towards Budi and Randi.

"I sir?" Tanya Budi pointed at herself, making sure.

"Yes, who else if not you." Mr. Mad's voice intonation is rising.

"My name is Budi, sir." The answer was a little screaming.

"good. Now you go forward one by one introducing yourself after that counting from one to twenty." Mad sir sat in his chair. "Starting from you, Aga. Later take turns from this table to get there" Mr. Mad pointed to the table sequence ranging from the front desk to the back table. This means I advanced after Aga.

With hesitation Aga stood up while walking forward, looking down. Mr. Mad noticed the Aga goal as if looking for something left behind.

Aga introduced himself and then counted to ten on the count of nine and eight, confused.

"Ball stone. Back there to your seat, it's good not to go to school." Aga bowed deeply, towards his seat. I sniffed the wind that was following Aga, the smell of piles.

"You pee in your pants, Ga?" I whispered. Aga put his right index finger on the tip of his lips as if to say, silence.

Now it's my turn to introduce names and count. Mad sir listened until it was over.

"Good." It sounds like giving value. Friends waiting for their turn to be held heard me smoothly counting.

Randi gets the last forward turn. After more than five people who failed to count, all of them diomeli pak Mad-Randi looked doubtful. His half-footed steps forward seemed to want to retreat again to the back.

"What the fuck. If I tell you to go forward, yes, go forward." Snapped mad sir.

Randi braced himself forward. He began to introduce his name and halted counting. The count stopped at number six and almost called the number four.

"Seven." Shouts slowly. Randi followed.

Mad sir is mad at me. "I don't want to know, you stand in front, raise one leg, both hands cross, pull the ear." Punishment mr. Mad.

I stood beside Randi, doing as Mr. Mad had told me just now. Randi smiled shyly at the sight of someone accompanying him.

In the right hand of Mr. Mad not far from the wooden ruler. Every pound of Mad sir's feet that approached the table per table made them hold their breath with all their might, tense. Mr. Mad walked slowly, back and forth. Aga had been staring, resigned. Aga's face as if it was wrong for me to choose a seat on the front. Everyone sitting in front looked sorry.

"You know. I don't like lazy students. In front of there for example." Pointing Aga with the ruler end. "The result is out there." Then point at me and Randi.

Mad sir is back at his desk. Open the thick book sheet by sheet until in the middle-pack sheet Mad put his glasses.

"As punishment, all of you must do this work." Closer his face to the book, "Who among you can write?" Silent.

Mad sir hit the table a second time. "I nanya. Answer!"

"I, sir." He raised his right index finger. He was very brave even though his face looked forced.

I applauded inwardly praising Budi's courage. In front of me you are busy looking for the book. I started writing on the board with white chalk. Occasionally Budi scratched his head, chalk flakes make his hair whiten. Be imitating the writing in the book, not much, just small numbers about addition. Me and Randi slanted to the side watching Budi write. His hands and feet seemed to tremble. He copied the writing long enough.

He flirted with me, then moved my book in front of him. I refuted by shaking my head, but Aga had already written in my book with his pencil.

"Sit down." Snapped Mr. Mad told Budi to return to his seat. Budi handed the tome to Mad sir. With great care Mr. Mad wiped the clutches using a thin cloth, then approached the blackboard, correcting Budi's writing.

"Specifically for both of you." Mr. Mad was facing me and Randi. "Do this job and write." Mr. Mad moved his hand on the board. I spelled Mr. Mad's words that read: I'm not good at counting. "A total of two hundred lines." Imbu mad sir. Randi.

Two hundred lines means almost half my book for Mad sir's punishment?

"Sit down." Snapped Mr. Mad once again, "Tomorrow must be done. Good day." Mad sir out of class. Randi and I returned to our seats and said good day in our hearts. Listlessly.

"I told you. Don't sit in front." Aga. I wrote it in my book without guilt. Only he can understand it.

"Just boy. It was making fun of my book." Forcibly withdrawing the book that Aga overwritten with both of his sweaty, wet hands.

"In a moment, Ki." Until the book is torn, split in two. I was furious at Aga while holding back tears. Aga apologized a dozen times without me noticing.

"Later to replace, Ki. Sorry I didn't intentionally. I was forced to use your book for fear that Mr. Mad would get angry if I didn't write." I was silent, sulking.

The bell was hit twice as a sign of rest.

Aga can be said to be a ignorant and forgetful student. He recounts his childhood experiences of being tortured by his abusive father, heavy drunkards and pure failed gamblers. Now his father and mother are old. His father has been converted, if everywhere always accompanied Aga because his father had a severe stroke. His mother taught Aga to count, write and read. But Aga is unable to remember. The memory of Aga is only a few minutes, just like the fish that escaped from the eye of the hook, but after that eat the bait again as if forgetting that the bait is a hook that had stuck in his mouth just now.

Randi also told her life story. He told me that he had once hit the floor. At that time he wanted permission to watch television on his mother who was engrossed in the market. The cement floor was wet, making Randi's legs slip. He fainted for a few minutes. "That's why I'm kind of a moron like this." He said while punching his head.

"I'm different again." Come with the nimbrung. He told me he was actually a foster child. We are silent, empathetic to Budi. "I'm serious." His words answered our eyes as if asking, is it true?

Budi explained that he until this moment did not know who his parents were, and he did not want to know. The treatment of his adoptive parents who treat him like a real child makes Budi not want to know who his real parents are. But since he knew he was an adopted child, the mind often fantasized and pensive.

"Don't tell me you raised your index finger this morning pensive." Aga said, suspicious. Shame to be embarrassed.

The three of them looked at me who was enjoying a bowl of porridge. They looked as if they were opening a gift coupon.

"Oh, yes. If I have two events that I've had so far been hard to forget?" I made the three of them more curious.

"What?" Ask them, simultaneously.

"I drowned in a well. It was like being swallowed by the earth alive. I also had a hot shower. It's a sign." Shows the hot porridge marks on my left hand. Their eyes were still full of questions.

"Then why are you so good at counting like that?" Ask Aga.

"The mother taught me." Reply relax. The three of them nodded slowly.

"When do you want to change my book, Ga?"

Aga looked confused. As if evading my question he entered the canteen without a response. Half a minute later, Aga came out with a book. Greatable. I cried in my heart.

"This. My debt is paid off." Give the book to me.

"This is your house?" My toot.

"Not." Aga answered quickly.

"It." Lifting the book I hold.

"I owe. Later if the junkyard in my house has been sold, I'll pay for it." Aga lifted the bowl with the image of a rooster, sidelined the sauce.

I was going to put my bowl to the side. Suddenly accidentally the rest of the sauce in my bowl spilled wet Randi's clothes. Randi's face flushed red, restraining his anger. He clenched his hands tightly.

"Sorry, Ran. I didn't mean it." I wiped Randi's shirt with a washcloth on the table.

Budi elbowed Randi who had been trying to restrain his emotions. Randi kept silent, occasionally pushing my hand that was still trying to wipe her shirt. Aga stood as if ready to stand by in case something happened. Fortunately Randi's clothes were brown-if white, of course the porridge sauce would turn yellow on his shirt.

"Sorry again, Ran." I pleaded as I put my hands together in front of my chest.

I apologized twice to Randi but there was no response. Randi shifted his gaze as he moved away towards first grade. "Regular, Ki. I am often so with him too. He is emotional, easily offended. Understand that he once hit the floor." Budi chuckled softly.

"I pay for my drink first, yeah." Go see the canteen guards. I tailed behind him, queuing up to pay.

My money is a hundred rupiahs. "We're back in class, yuk." Take Aga.

"Well, the bells are coming in at lesson two soon." Be agreeable.

The three of us headed to first class. I went into the classroom and glanced at Randi. He turned his eyes to the side. From his gaze I understand that he has not been able to forgive me.