“ I’m Andrea, sir ! ” he said to me, introducimg himself. “ I’m a Senior High School student “, he continued. “ I’m in the second year. Actually, I’m a cheerful boy ”.
I live in an Islamic Boarding School. I live in an Islamic Boarding School because my school is far from my house. I go home once in a month. I go to school earlier than my classmates. I go home later than my classmates. I never play or joke with my classmates during the rest time. I prefer to stay in the library. I do them all in order to get the longer oppurtunity to read the books in the library. I do them all because I can’t buy the printed books completely. My parent cannot give enough money to me. They are poor.
I have a classmate. The classmate is a girl. She is in the same year. She is sixteen years old. Her live is better than my live. She has the printed books completely. She never borrow the student’s books from the library. As far as I know, she never has breakfast at home. She always has breakfast in the school canteen. She akways orders me to accompany her to have breakfast. She also always tries to lend me the book which I need. She does them all with care. She is very kind.
Frankly, sir..! I always try to refuse her kindness. Whenever she tries to lend me her book, I always say; ”No,thanks I have borrowed the book from the library”, I also always refuse her offering to have breakfast together, although I always fail.
Actually I have the real reason, I’m afraid of my self. I mean, I am afraid if I cannot repay her kindness. I am afraid if I will always expect her kindness. I am afraid if all my classmates think that I and she are sweetheart, and above them all, ... I am afraid if I fall in love.
Nowadays, I don’t know who I’m in her mind; am I her boy friend or her close-friend or just student who needs a help. If I am her boy-friend, it seems imposible, because she never tells her love. She never praises me if I’m handsome, that I am a clever boy and alike. She never tells me about my intelligence, my achievement, my behavior, or my personality. If I think that I’m her close-friend, it also imposibble because I accompany her at the breakfast time. I never accompany her sitting in the school park during rest time. We never talk about certain matter. If I think that I’m student who need help, it also imposible becase I never tell her that I need a certain thing. I do not know why those questions often come to my mind, especially while I’m free, while I’m ready to go to bed. Honestly, I don’t like the questions. I hate their coming. Whenever they come, I always throw them from my mind. I think it useless to think the question with uncetain answer!
Unconsciously, it seem that everything changes slowly, little by little. I don’t know, since when the question succed in influencing my mind. My mind begin welcoming the questions. The questions sweep me into the world of dreaming as far they can. I throw the dream as soon as I’m conscious.
Something which unusual happens. As usual, I leave for school at six thirty. One Saturday, the time shows six thirty. I feel a kind of psychological burden resist me to leave the Islamic Boarding School. I look at my watch again and again. The longer I stay, the more the minute. One question comes to my mind; why she isn’t here yet. At seven past forty, I decided to leave the Islamic Boarding school. I expect I see her at school. But the expectation remainds expectation ! She is absent. She is sick...!
I live in an Islamic Boarding School. I live in an Islamic Boarding School because my school is far from my house. I go home once in a month. I go to school earlier than my classmates. I go home later than my classmates. I never play or joke with my classmates during the rest time. I prefer to stay in the library. I do them all in order to get the longer oppurtunity to read the books in the library. I do them all because I can’t buy the printed books completely. My parent cannot give enough money to me. They are poor.
I have a classmate. The classmate is a girl. She is in the same year. She is sixteen years old. Her live is better than my live. She has the printed books completely. She never borrow the student’s books from the library. As far as I know, she never has breakfast at home. She always has breakfast in the school canteen. She akways orders me to accompany her to have breakfast. She also always tries to lend me the book which I need. She does them all with care. She is very kind.
Frankly, sir..! I always try to refuse her kindness. Whenever she tries to lend me her book, I always say; ”No,thanks I have borrowed the book from the library”, I also always refuse her offering to have breakfast together, although I always fail.
Actually I have the real reason, I’m afraid of my self. I mean, I am afraid if I cannot repay her kindness. I am afraid if I will always expect her kindness. I am afraid if all my classmates think that I and she are sweetheart, and above them all, ... I am afraid if I fall in love.
Nowadays, I don’t know who I’m in her mind; am I her boy friend or her close-friend or just student who needs a help. If I am her boy-friend, it seems imposible, because she never tells her love. She never praises me if I’m handsome, that I am a clever boy and alike. She never tells me about my intelligence, my achievement, my behavior, or my personality. If I think that I’m her close-friend, it also imposibble because I accompany her at the breakfast time. I never accompany her sitting in the school park during rest time. We never talk about certain matter. If I think that I’m student who need help, it also imposible becase I never tell her that I need a certain thing. I do not know why those questions often come to my mind, especially while I’m free, while I’m ready to go to bed. Honestly, I don’t like the questions. I hate their coming. Whenever they come, I always throw them from my mind. I think it useless to think the question with uncetain answer!
Unconsciously, it seem that everything changes slowly, little by little. I don’t know, since when the question succed in influencing my mind. My mind begin welcoming the questions. The questions sweep me into the world of dreaming as far they can. I throw the dream as soon as I’m conscious.
Something which unusual happens. As usual, I leave for school at six thirty. One Saturday, the time shows six thirty. I feel a kind of psychological burden resist me to leave the Islamic Boarding School. I look at my watch again and again. The longer I stay, the more the minute. One question comes to my mind; why she isn’t here yet. At seven past forty, I decided to leave the Islamic Boarding school. I expect I see her at school. But the expectation remainds expectation ! She is absent. She is sick...!
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