The Student: Part II
March 12th, 2008.
It was the same boring GST class. He knew he should really stop coming for the mind-numbing lectures and all, but he had this irrational fear that his dad was watching his every move, so he came regularly for the classes. Still, he couldn’t help stifling several yawns in the two-hour class.
The lecturer – a woman, and an unattractive one at that – was saying something about the moral (or was it mural?) life, and Patrick couldn’t be arsed. Imagine his shock when, while scratching his balls surreptitiously, he heard a question directed at him.
“Young man, stand up.” He did, quickly.
“What do you think about euthanasia?”
“Ma?” he blinked, eyes further enlarged by his high-powered glasses. “You Ten Asia?”
He could already hear the sniggers in the background, and he was suddenly transported back in time. Back in time when he was twelve and in SS2. How his fellow ‘seniors’ had laughed at him when a junior student wrestled him to the ground and forced him to swallow mouthfuls of sand.
Bowing his head, he saw his seat mate for the first time: A slanty-eyed girl with pimple-scars on her cheeks. She was staring intently at him, and he could see she wanted to show him something.
Looking down, he saw she had a scrap of paper on which she had hurriedly written something. He kept his head bowed for a bit, digesting new information, then raised it in new-found confidence.
“I support it, ma.”
The giggles grew louder. The woman homed in for the kill. She was sure Patrick knew absolutely nothing about what he was talking about.
“How so, young man? What is euthanasia, as a matter of fact?”
“Euthanasia, ma, or Mercy Killing, is a form of assisted suicide where people are ‘helped’ to die – people for whom living is a lot of pain compared to death”
“Hm.” The GST teacher tilted her head. “So why are you in support of it?”
“For the good it brings the sufferer. Although the ‘helper’ may bear the burden of guilt for the rest of their lives, it need not be. The good of euthanasia surpasses the evil, if it even exists.”
The lecturer paused for a minute, and continued her lecture.
Heart pounding, and with watery knees, Patrick sat down. “Thanks”, he said to the girl, but she stared on, not giving him a second glance.
He caught up with her at the end of the class.
“Thanks,” he said again as he walked with her to the hostel area. “You really helped me there.”
Grinning she replied “it’s nothing. You looked like you were about to faint.”
He chuckled self-consciously. “So…er. Do you think Euthanasia is something that should be supported?”
“So why did you write for me to say it?”
“You’re a boy. That’s the kind of thing a guy should say.”
He shrugged. She’s kind of right.
They had already gotten to the end of the junction. The road led separate ways – one to the boys’ hostel, the other to the girls’.
“So…erm. I’m Patrick. You?”
She grinned again. “I’m Sophia. My friends call me Phoenix.”