The summer break that preceded the next chapter of my school life had nothing of note to write about—besides the absolute unit of a dog one of my neighbors had. I went inside their house one time to play, so I saw it firsthand.

Now I'm not sure if my childhood eyes were playing tricks on me, but I'm pretty sure the dog was the size of a garage; I'm not kidding. When it howled, those howls echo in the streets, it was terrifying!

I never got to play with her and her dog after that. I never got the chance to see her again, and I eventually forgot her name.

Summer faded away before I had even realized. Now my first day of school had arrived.

My grade school life started more or less the same as preschool. I expected a couple of step-ups, but not a lot of personal changes were actually needed.

I woke up almost late on my first day of school. I remember the driver of this school service honking his horn wildly, urging me to hurry up. I frantically ate my lunch as a result (I was taking afternoon classes) and rummaged through my things. I then gave my mother a quick kiss on the cheek as a goodbye and went off.

I entered the rear door of an old, maroon Isuzu. It was cramped inside. School buses aren't really a thing here; all we had were civilian cars pretending to be buses. The Isuzu had rails on its roof to stuff our bags on, but I chose to not entertain that idea because, honestly, I was afraid that my backpack would fly off. So instead, I hugged it tight.

The diesel engine of the Isuzu roared as my home appeared smaller and smaller. That noise soon got overshadowed by the unharmonious screams of us kids.

The trip was around twenty torturous minutes long, if I was the driver that is. As a kid, those twenty minutes flew by. But the driver was a nice guy. I believe he stayed with the family who owned the service business for two more decades. I heard he is living a good life now in Singapore. A key feature of his is his crooked teeth, which never got fixed.

The driver stopped at one of the three front entrances of our new campus. This entrance has a wide gate, easy to get mass students into. The second entrance was a lot narrower compared to the first gate. This gate no longer exists as it got converted into a bookstore. The third entrance, which should be considered as the main one, had glass doors and is also the main lounge of the guards.

I opened the door of the Isuzu and hopped out. This is a new beginning for me at this new campus. I slammed the door behind me and—

'AH—!' I heard someone behind me make a sharp sound. And all of a sudden, the air around me felt tense and silent. It felt as if everything had stopped.

I looked back to see what happened. A fellow student, the same age as me, had his hand meshed with the car hinges. All four fingers, leaving only the thumb exposed.

The world again began to move, and the noise grew. A lot of eyes gravitated towards me— the driver, the other students, the guards.

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Me? Was I the one at fault? I didn't see him, I wasn't looking at all. Wasn't it his fault for placing his hands there? Didn't his parents teach him not to do exactly that?

'I...I didn't mean to!' I said in a panic, and I ran away from this heavy scene as fast as I could.

What was I supposed to do in that situation? I can't just stay there. I couldn't do anything. For the first time in my life, I had no answer.

I darted all the way to my new classroom, with tears nearly exiting my sockets. I managed to hold it in and composed myself. I instead tried to observe the new room.

It was a decently sized room, with colourful matting down the centre and the aquamarine tables pushed to the sides. My classmates sat on the mats, and I saw Tim inviting me.

Tim was a familiar face, we were classmates during preschool. Beside him was Miles, another classmate of mine. Us three used to be an inseparable trio. I still talk to Tim at times, usually gym-related; Miles, I lost complete contact with him.

Before I had the chance to sit down, the teacher in front of the class called me to do an introduction. I obliged and joined her upfront.

'Hello, my name is Stephen Guandula. I came from... there.' I pointed to the direction of the preschool campus, which was the sister campus. It no longer hosts children. Rumour is, it is now a retirement home. I continued with my introduction, mentioning my age, birthday, and my interests.

'I like...Monster trucks, and VW Beetle.' It's not quite a unique interest for a kid, but the specificity made it different. 'When I grow up, I want to be a driver!'

That one was no longer specific. My dream was to be on the road, much better if its on the dirt. I was impressed by the machines of Dakar and WRC, and I wanted to be a part of it too.

That dream, much like any other dream, never came true. I blame the country for not creating a proper rally academy; but I also blame myself for being too scared. I still imagine what could've been.

Just before I finished my introduction, the far door gently began to open. It was the student whose hand I crushed earlier, and he is part of my class.

His name is Martin. Apparently he is the grandson of the owner of the school service I'm in. Now, Martin is one of my closest friends. He is someone I can trust. But back then, we were the most bitter of enemies... or so he says.

I have no recollection of the things he did to me, but he confessed that he was my bully. He was very mean to me, and I recall no single detail of it. What I do realize now is that I failed to be a good friend.

The teacher noticed Martin entering the room, so she asks 'Why are you late?'

Martin, with a bandana wrapped around his injured hand, pointed at me. His swollen eyes locked onto mine, with brows furrowed deep.

Something happened between us, and everybody in the room knew that. They faced towards me for an answer. All eyes are on me again. The tears I tried to suppress fell due to the pressure.

'It was an accident!' I softly cried out. I rushed to the space left by Tim and sat down.

'Why? What happened?' Tim curiously asked.

'It's because—,' I got his hand trapped on a door. Those words refuse to escape my mouth.

A clueless Tim said 'It's okay, It's fine.' as comfort. I couldn't even look to his direction.

The attention gradually shifted away from me and the day moved on as if nothing happened.