For the rest of the day, after my confrontation with Laras, I spent my time hanging out with Sukiman, a.k.a. Kim, by showing him around the school.
We were touring around, looking at each class's pieces of art. While class 1-A-A was turned into a gallery of Betawi culture, some other classes showed off traditional dances, like the Tor-tor dance from North Sumatra, the Serimpi dance from Yogyakarta, or the Kecak dance from Bali.
Some classes were turned into mini theatres, performing folklore from various cultures. One of them was telling the story of Malin Kundang, a well-known folklore from West Sumatra.
Similarly, a few other classes became mini cinemas, replaying old movies that emphasized distinct elements of the culture they were trying to represent.
All of the performances mentioned were also given a spotlight on the school ground stage. Each class, which had already exhibited their performance in their own class, would get on stage according to the schedule they were given to reproduce their art.
As we were strolling around and looking at each class' antiques, I and Kim bumped ways with my parents.
"Oh, wow. You've grown so much more handsome since the last time I saw you." My mother beamed a smile as she complimented Kim.
By more handsome, she meant taller and fitter. Kim's face remains the same as ever. A lady magnet.
"Ahahaha! Thank you, aunty. How have you been?" Kim replied in a respectful tone.
Being friends, sometimes Kim would come to my house to hang out or study. As we were both freshmen, we were busy adjusting to each of our new schools. As far as I remembered, the last time Kim visited was more than three months ago.
Idle talk took place between me, my parents, and Kim. It only happened for a few minutes, before I and Kim took a different route than my parents.
Time fleeted by so fast, that it went past four in the afternoon. Truly, I couldn't be grateful enough to Kim. He provided a great distraction to my worries. In fact, I was so distracted that I forgot to return to the handicraft club's stall in the student hall.
However, right when I was about to go back there, I met Ayunda and she said, "No need, Uril. Our shift has ended."
"But I left earlier than you." While it was tempting to go along with what she said, it was quite unethical of me to ditch work.
"Mmm... It is up to you whether you want to continue or not, but... I think it's better not to mess up the schedule, so… How about helping with the wrap-up?"
"Yeah, sure. I have no problem with it."
"Wow. Such a busybody, you are. So boring." Kim, who was standing beside me while listening to our conversation, commented.
"I'm not you."
It seemed that the fact Kim and I know each other was astonishing to Ayunda. With eyes widened, she asked, "Uril, he's your friend?"
Well, she did peek—much like the girls passing around us—at Kim's face when I talked to her, so I figured that she was interested in him.
"Hi! I'm Kim." He said, stretching his hand to Ayunda with a ray of smile.
"Full name's Sukiman." I added. With that face and that nickname, she would 100% mistake Kim for a Korean. To prevent that, I got to inquire that Kim, in truth, was a local.
"H-hello." Ayunda replied with a trembling hand.
"Alright, let's go." I urged Kim as soon as they did their awkward handshake.
Thus, instead of returning to the student hall, we strolled toward the stage at the center.
Because the culture festival day one will conclude at 6 P.M., one last stage performance will be held. According to the schedule, it was time for my class' Pantun Stand-up comedy.
My parents already went home, but Kim and I were still around the school. We decided to stay on the school ground until the end of the festival's first day.
When that one guy and Sasa were done with their stand-up inside the classroom, they hurriedly went to the stage to replay their comical narration.
The difference in audience between those in the classroom and on the school ground was so vast, that I could see Sasa shivering as she held the microphone. It was sad to see her like that. After all, it was not the position she was initially given.
Actually, why was the task shoved onto her, I wonder? A talk about substitute performer never took place.
Kim was laughing sparingly at the jokes delivered beside me. Since I already heard some of the jokes during practice sessions days ago, I could only crack a polite laugh to cheer up Sasa and that one other guy.
It was when the stand-up reached halfway to the finish the seat on my other side was no longer vacant. A person's silhouette passed me by the corner of my eye. Reflectively, I turned my face to see the person. In an instant, disdain filled my face.
With sweat still dripping on her forehead, the feminine voice of none other than Indah greeted me. "Hi, Uril."
"Hey." I replied scantly. Looking at her would probably make my mood worsens, so I fixed my gaze on the stage.
"Whoa. Are you angry at me?" Indah asked. She probably picked up the change in my tone.
Stubborn as I was, I tried my best to ignore Indah. Not only was that an expression of distaste, but it also worked so I do not let myself blurt out mean words.
Indah let out a deep breath as if she was exhausted by my conduct. Her expression quickly changed into a calmer tone, and she spoke again, "What's wrong? Tell me."
"Where the heck were you off for the whole day?" I said while expressing my dejection subconsciously through the tone of my voice.
Upon hearing my question, her expression changed from that of an anxiety-filled face to that of realization and relief. She looked at me as if she was saying, 'Oh, just that? How silly.'
"I was in Shakira's place." She said, unburdened.
The answer she gave me cracked every disrespect I had for her. But immediately after, the cracks were filled with doubts.
"Oh, really?" I said in disbelief.
"What, you don't believe me?"
"No, I don't."
"Then ask Shakira herself."
"I can't even get in touch with her."
"That's obvious. She's being kept away from her phone or the internet by her parents. She was traumatized, after all."
'Then what was the point of telling me to ask her?' I thought to myself in irritation for a moment, before Indah flipped it into relief with haste.
While hearing that Shakira's been traumatized was sad news, I couldn't help but feel that some weight has been lifted from my shoulders. No matter what, hearing some news about a person you're concerned with is… I don't know, calming? The news didn't make me any calmer. But perhaps it was the fact that Indah was by her side that was making me feel at ease.
And then, I came to a realization. Indah wouldn't have known of Shakira's condition if she lied.
Guilty of the undeserved negative emotions I directed towards Indah, I said, "Sorry."
"For what?"
"Shhhhhhhh." A voice from the other side reached my ears, silencing me and Indah. That voice came from Kim, who was looking at the stage with some kind of enthusiasm.
Thanks to him, I became conscious of my surroundings and saw several people glancing at me. Being self-conscious led me to believe that they were annoyed by me talking a bit too loud that it disrupted them from our class' Stand-Up Comedy on the stage.
Had it not been because of Kim's interruption, I would've forgotten that I was about to watch Sasa's and that guy's performance.
Realizing that the conversation had to be put on hold for a while, I said to Indah, "Talk to you later."
"Alright." She said, as her lips slowly turned into a smile.