Before I knew it, I was already in my second year of grade school. Once again, I went up on stage to receive my silver medal. My mother was the sole parent to join me as my father worked overseas. Gold once again not achieved.

The award ceremony happened in the morning. Those students who had the morning schedule don't have classes to attend anymore. But since I'm once again part of the afternoon class, I had to go back to our designated classroom.

There were not a whole lot of familiar faces to be seen. Kerwin was one of them though, at least I had someone to talk to.

We continued playing Super Finger Federation, now shortened to “SFF”. We created a few more characters. I remember one having the ability to be indestructible. Downside is, that character is sluggish, heavy, and prone to falling over. We found humour in the way that character fought.

Martin was in a different class now. But we still rode on the same school service.

One day, I was playing SFF on my own (which is weird now that I think about it) near the front seat of the service, just behind the driver. There was a division separating me and the adult.

I used that division as a platform to play SFF on. I practised my kicks, my punches, and all other abilities. Martin, who seated opposite of me, caught wind of this.

'What are you doing?' asked Martin.

'I'm playing.'

'How do you play that?'

I then showed Martin the basics of how to play SFF. I told him he needed to create a character before playing.

'Hey! It has to be your own character!' I critiqued. Martin proposed “Lonk”, wielder of a sacred sword and can also use a bow. It sounded super familiar.

'Then, “Draxelon”! He can... shoot lightning!'

'...Yeah, that's good!' I replied after a momentary pause. 'My character is “Knife”, and this is what he does...'

Me and Martin played this simple game before and after school. We played until one of us reached home. Most of the travel time was spent battling and sharing character ideas with each other. I believe this is how we got close.

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SFF was one of the earliest showcases of my desire to create. I've drawn cars and monster trucks before, but I have never done characters. My drawings up until now never needed emotions, or feelings, or relationships. They had no story.

Right then and there, I decided to challenge myself. It felt like something I had to do. I grabbed a pencil and a half pad paper. I started writing my first comic. My first story.

It was a short comic based on a show called "Spongebob Squarepants", are you familiar with that?

My story was about him feeling underappreciated to such a degree that he decided to end himself. When his loved ones found out about this, they were all stunned. I remember the boss crying out about how was he going to look for a new cook.

They went to his funeral, saying their apologies, memories and goodbyes. Spongebob was looking down from above, happy. Happy that everybody gathered to see him.

Soon, his best friend joined him up in the sky.

I passed this story around class like it was chainmail. Some said it was great, others didn't know what to do with it. I received comments on how well I drew the characters. The story was also memorable enough that somebody brought it up during high school. It was flattering. I was happy about it.

From there, I started creating more characters, more abilities, more stories. All my creations were kept in a single folder, which gradually became thicker as the days went by.

The folder also housed casual drawings such as cars and landscapes—anything that I made and put onto paper. I soon had my own hand crank sharpener, that I still have today, to sharpen my pencils even faster. A collection of erasers. A plethora of pencils. A pack of paper that can feed the entire class!—

'Ok class! Keep everything in inside your bags besides your pencil, eraser, and test folder.'

My enthusiasm got the better of me that I misjudged the day of the exams. I thought I had a week so I delayed my review sessions. I didn't even get a single skim of a textbook.

The teacher began distributing the test papers. First subject: English. 30 items. Mostly about spelling and grammar, plus an essay worth 5 points—breezed right through.

Second subject: Math. 40 Items. Multiplication Table and a touch of Division. This one took me longer than English, but I surpassed it anyway.

Third Subject: Science. 35 items. Parts of the Body. I remember part of that still. Done.

Final Subject: World History. In that test, we were given a blank map, and we had to fill it out. It mostly had the simple countries like France and USA, not the obscure ones like Mozambique. So it was relatively easy.

I let out a sigh of relief right after. The only subjects left were the minor ones: Music, Arts, and Physical Education. Those three had practical exams instead, reserved for a different day.

I managed to get away relying on pure stock knowledge. The panic I felt initially was gone. I don't think my mother ever knew I took my exam without studying; she'd have been furious if she found out. Either way, I'm never doing that again.