THE PRINCE OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS
eps.23

"It doesn't make sense!" He said while angry along the way home from school to home. A ridiculous decision along the way of his life as an exemplary student (tow to come home first), according to him. He kept thinking about it until he got home, to the inside as if he was having a dialogue of his own.

But in retrospect, how big was my mistake? Still classified as limited to reasonableness, right? What I do is a real thing. Defend the weak, oppressed and persecuted. The people who should and should have a divine hand from me. You see, I know, besides being among the less able to also have the guts of rats, do not have the courage or skills of anything, they are just weak students who are helpless, and I think obliged to help, he said, because it concerns his future. Yes, but to be honest, I also belong to their group, the difference is I have courage and mental steel, not a person who is easily oppressed.

Stealing lists of grades and throwing them into the trash cans of the most terrible lessons is like a monster ready to boil students who have difficulty understanding the calculations. Maybe I'm the only one who dares to do it in this class or even one school. That is a record for me, because I believe that for the next five years no one has dared to beat him.

Yes indeed in addition to helping others in solidarity, it is also in order to save myself. Who try not to dizzy, every exercise or replay my worth that is never more than three. That's also if I managed to glance at the answer paper of the class star who sat opposite the bench with me.

But calm down, the weak ones in this class are not just me. There are many other friends who can score worse than me. In fact, the weak groups that belong to the class are not able to count almost three-quarters of the number of students in this class. So if the number of students is forty, it means that the *** math is about thirty people. Hehe...

Hence, every repetition arrived, not only was I difficult but one class was also restless. Because everyone knows how to calculate the value in the report card. All the values of the exercise ama repetition during this total, continue to be divided by the number of times the repetition. Anyway, if I count myself, my old report card is probably two point six, because several times dapet nya big zero so much that my teacher usually say, "It's good you'll come home with an omelet side dish!"

Two point six, my mom must have heard it. His son who demands knowledge every day, every morning to go to school made breakfast with sangu, delivered to pick up, every month pay SPP, only get that value. I can't imagine how lazy my mother is, especially if I take the report card, my mother always sits at the front. Yes mending anyway, seriously again, two comma six still plus the same general replay value continues to be divided in two. Good thing if the repetition is high value, if dapet zero again? Abis deh, two point six divided by two into one point three. Whahuh? My math value on the one-to-three report card?

My mom must be hysterically screaming.

"Gusti, nduk nduk mbok mending kowe ngarit kono ae ning rice fields. Dhuwur-duwur school is not a pinter-pinter. Pinter yo makmu iki kon counting opo ae I iso, you just count using paper aja ora iso!"

Yes maybe more or less the nagging is like that, as experienced by my neighbor because it suffered the same fate. But after I thought this whole thing wasn't one hundred percent pure my fault. There was another factor behind him that was the old teacher who was already wrinkled, his breathing was stingy. My math teacher is old, every ngajar likes to poke alone and with the same song tone, minor ama major is no different. Always high accompanied by a speck of the smell of jengkol that soaked my face. So often ngerock to the point that I memorized the song, out of nowhere he got the lyrics.

"Lazy disciple! Have you never learned what? Repeat the value of zero continues, if the teacher is not noticed! How do you want to get good grades if learning is not serious? What are you going to be?!"

I think it's a song just ref doang, if the horror of the super terrible verse that my head must be dizzy immediately. Like that teacher at school did not learn the art of music, because if he studied, he would also understand the flow of his tone, when to be high when to be low, not all high.

Be the day my big plan begins. It is also a plan with a lot of support from various parties. Not only from the weak brain in my class, but the other classes are the same. Maybe at another school too.

Mathematics always makes the students dizzy. And the one who chose to do my big job was friends who used to hang out in this corner school stall. Logically, if the teacher's list of values is thrown out, then the records of all students during this time will be lost, if civil servants say this is called bleaching. Initially running smoothly, the attendance book I managed to steal and I threw it to times near the back garden of this school. And I'm sure until the apocalypse the paper will not meet, because I've been torn to pieces until it becomes a small fragment that the number forgets I did not it. That must be a lot.

Yes I thought it was safe, it turned out that Saturday I was called to the teacher's room, there I was pelted with chatter from various radios that finally emptied into my ears. From just an ordinary question to an extraordinary one. From the ramblings of a sledding kayak and in the end I was suspended for one week.

My friends who are involved in the mission of the team "The Koplak" must be responsible as well. They were among those directly involved in the theft. They did not go down directly in the theft of the grade book, but just kept an eye on the security of the time I sneaked into the teacher's office as the teachers took a break out.

But I'm not the kind of person who likes to stick around in the back if there's a problem. By the nature of chivalry, in front of the judges and prosecutors of the teacher's teacher I confess firmly. I explained the process of what happened, including my reasons for stealing the list of values. And I also declare that no one else is taking part in this ridiculous mission, only I am the one who did it.

But come to think of it, I can take a lesson from this incident, I know what the attitude of the people around me is. If this is the case, let alone my friends who participated in the mission yesterday, first class friends and even class neighbors who also felt the blessings of the loss of their list of values no one cared. They seemed to close their eyes and ears and even their noses as well. They do not know and do not feel the events that happen to me.

Yeah! Maybe I should be heart and soul. There are times when the main character has to experience a bleak time in the course of his life, this is a lesson I must accept to meet a more bleak future. Yam want how else try if my way to nudu aja even distop like this.

I left school with my head held high. I did not want to bow down weakly and sadly, because I knew from the window of the classroom, the students who belonged to the weak brain were accompanying their respective classes, standing in a crowd of fringes of the field, and, and I passed in front of them. I took a breath and held it, chest more forward. My style of walking also makes it as reliable as possible. Eyes straight forward, the jaws of both cheeks were bulging and my mouth was as precise as mine. From my left side there was a voice, "To... Revolutionary heroes of our School... Hormaaattt... grakk!!"

I know who gave the super ridiculous command, they were the ones who joined in yesterday's heist, and they gave their cues to the children who marched to my departure that afternoon. They will remember who the national heroes are in their careers for their future. Who are the heroes who have saved the value of their report cards from the ravings of their father and mother. Who's playing a role in tomorrow's class upswing.

The only person they will remember is ME.

What is my problem right now is how to talk to my mother, the woman who gave birth, raised me with both hands. How would he react to hearing that I was suspended? And of course I suspect that I don't go to school every morning. Kan, this is not a long holiday, surely I will be asked questions like train cars on the tracks there mixed with his proselytizing.

The originals I do not feel at home because every day every second every second must always hear the flush of qolbu from a mother in this house. Every time I do a little mistake, the broom handle must join and become a musical accompaniment with the distinctive sound of a broken radio. I think I should find a way to spend a week. Yes, it's mandatory if I want to be safe from my mother. That's probably all I have to do, refreshing to cool my violent brain due to the recent environment. Hmmm, which place is suitable huh? Beijing, Netherlands, Oxford or...?

But from the few options available, maybe nothing suits me. Understand, it's a student. Ahh. So ashamed of myself. I knew I was still a student, cocky-pompous to use going abroad all. Do not go abroad, go to school which is 10 KM away I walk because there is no cost to pay for the public transportation. Moreover, I have not been given pocket money for two weeks because I snatched the toys of a neighbor child who was five years old. Silly it sounds, but it's only for people who don't know the real problem, including my own mother. Actually it is not me who snatches but the little boy himself who is loving. Uh, don't know why suddenly the boy was crying until he was wheezing because his feet were stepped on my feet after he gave the toy to me. Well, when someone passed by to see the tragedy, he thought I took possession of the child.

As soon as I reached the highway, I saw a crowd of people kayaking again ngantri sebako. Without thinking too much, I immediately joined in between them. I'm this little one like I'm not considered by them. Every time I wanted to get close, I was pulled and pushed by the peddlers. My forehead frowned, when I saw a speck of stains on the street, on the outskirts along the bus stop there were people carrying a man wearing a black t-shirt with an orange vest.

"What's up, sir?" I asked a hawker who had attracted me, who turned out he also watched it.

"There's beans, kwaci, candy and drinks." He said he didn't understand my question or maybe he was just joking.

"Wrap rice what's wrong?" Answer me in an annoyed tone.

"If it is in the warteg," he replied once again.

I realize my question is wrong but why even kebablasan, I was originally dazed what the brain of this seller is less than a spoon.

"Sir, I mean what the hell are these people at the gathering?" I'm explaining.

"Oohhhh, yes there was a hit-and-run accident. The postman was hit by a car." Answer with a smile.

Ohhh so the black-robed orange vest guy is a postman. Poor as well! Though the task is very noble, conveying someone's message about something related to other important news.

I'm closing in on the scene. It's pretty awful. When he was carried to and fro his head was bleeding in an unconscious state. My heart was sad to see it, I so thought and imagined that if the child and his wife saw it would cry roaring like a child. From then on the man was only in the network was not anything.

I asked one of them, "Why not just call an ambulance or intercept a car or pick-up that goes through it, right?"

"Our deck, we don't know this person, who is his family, where his home address, his ID doesn't exist?" Answer a paro-aged mother.

"The postal address where he works?" My question is convincing.

"That's it, the paper's been scattered everywhere and can't be read anymore."

Maybe the mothers were upset by the question of a little boy like me, he immediately left the place on a motorcycle he was carrying.

In this country can be spelled out the sense of solidarity between each other is still spelled out below less. People who are clearly willing to die are left until there are people who are obliged to take care of it. The reasons are many, such as fear of being suspected as a suspect, fear of bearing all medical expenses, fear of being a witness at the police station.

Since that incident my heart was moved to help anyone who needed help like the father, it was unconsciously human beings can not be separated from the name of money. If I had the money, I would have helped the father with the money I had. Look, I'm just a little snot kid who just saw this world yesterday afternoon. School is not sinter-pinter, even now subject to SUSPENSION.

Yep! I will study harder, real school, even though I am of the poor class but I will prove to the world that my brain is not as weak as they think. YES I CAN DEFINITELY BE SUCCESSFUL.