A Budding Star

Hamish always looked forward to the last bell of the day. The chime would mean the end of studies. Three-thirty p.m. Time for a quick munch and rush off to play.

Although he sat at the back of his classroom, he usually was the first out of the room. He’d stash away his books, sprint to the front of the class, where the doors were located, and run out. Everyone knew. Hamish cared more for football and rugby than studies. The weakest boy in the class excelled in the field of play.

Today, when the bell rang, piles of papers, books, and pencils lay on top of his desk. It was a drawing class. Their teacher had sat on his table, at the front of the class, and he’d asked all his students to draw him. He even added a twist, holding a pencil with his mouth, pretending to smoke.

The sound of bell stirred Hamish from his work. He was surprised he’d allowed so much stuff to accumulate on his table. Normally, as time ebbed towards the close of study, he’d slowly start packing up. When the bell rang, he’d only have a book and a pen on the table.

The drawing had engrossed him. He looked at what he’d drawn. The shape produced with just his pencil had a thick, black moustache, small, Chinese eyes, and black, silky hair. Hamish thought the drawing resembled his teacher. It wasn’t a bad job.

The cigarette had been little difficult to add, making him erase drawing he’d done earlier. But the puff of smoke he’d imagined and drawn, fitted in nicely. He’d even added the classroom and the backs of his classmates, as he’d seen from his table.

His teacher had earlier gone around the class passing comments on their work. He’d see Hamish sketch and said, “Interesting. You’re better than I thought.”

The comment sparked Hamish’s interest even more. Very rarely he got positive comments from his teachers. He didn’t even know how he’d passed exams and managed to reach class seven. He rarely did his homework and never studied more then required.

After the comment, Hamish had concentrated even harder. Delicately, he used his hand, drawing slowly, and erasing when he wasn’t happy with the effort. From time to time, he analysed the sketch, observed the sight of his teacher, and putting all his effort into it, carved out the drawing. The thing was precious to Hamish now. He’d worked as hard as he’d done to win football matches.

With the class over, his classmates started showing their work to each other. Ronan sat closest to him and he was stretching his neck to see Hamish’s product.

He lifted the paper. Ronan studied it for a moment, eyes glued, and let out a smile. Hamish knew he’d surprised his friend. Otherwise, Ronan would have already passed a negative comment. Instead, he asked, “Why aren’t you rushing off?”

“I will,” Hamish said, keeping the drawing inside one of his books.

“You’ll have to give that to the teacher. He’ll mark you.”

“Oh, that’s right. Finally, I think I might pass at something. What do you think?” Hamish asked.

Ronan pursed his lips. Hamish knew Ronan didn’t appreciate getting beaten at his own game. The guy was hopeless at sports, was average in studies, but painting was his forte. Hamish didn’t want to antagonise Ronan though. He was the only person who cared for him. The rest of the class never hung around with him. They even laughed at him whenever they got their chance. Once, they’d mocked his presence in the library. Hamish went there just to read sports magazines, not to show off he was interested in books. The magazines contained stories of his heroes, and after reading them, he loved drowning in reveries of how one day he’d be a sports star like them and have his story published.

The teacher was going around collecting the drawing. He arrived at Hamish and looked at his work. “Interesting!” he remarked.

Hamish was proud. He knew he’d be marked well. Maybe he’d even discovered another side of him. During the thirty minutes it’d taken him to draw, he’d enjoyed it as much as playing any games. It wasn’t the first time he’d sketched something, but he hadn’t put any effort before. He’d surprised himself by labouring so hard to produce this work.

When the teacher exited the classroom, after collecting all their work, students started filtering out. Hamish hadn’t even stashed a single book away. He saw the scene of them leaving and realised what a joker he must have looked everyday, rushing off when all his friends took their own time to get out. That’s why he was alone, he didn’t have friends.

But I shouldn’t be last person to exit, thought Hamish. Why not be in with them for once?

Hamish cleared his table and stood up, carrying his bag. Ahead of him, Ronan was talking to Damien. Ahead of them, a group of five students were buzzing like bees, discussing how difficult the assignment had been. They were imitating the teacher. Andy sat like how the teacher had done, with a pen in his mouth, eyes squinted, to appear Chinese. Hamish found this ridiculous. How could they do such a thing? These guys have no respect for the teacher.

He felt like slapping Andy. He was certainly strong enough to do it and ward of any challenges Andy might possess.

“Hey, Andy!” Hamish shouted. “You do that again and I’ll slap you.”

The seven students left in the class all stopped talking and stared at Hamish. “What did I do?” Andy asked, surprised at Hamish’s belligerent words.

“That thing you just did, to appear like our teacher. That’s not what you’ve been taught to do.”

“Like you care about him. Why aren’t you off already? What’s the matter? Or are you’re interested in studying now?”

The boys burst into laughter. Hamish looked around. Even Ronan was going hysterical. That’s why he didn’t appreciate any company. If he’d left early, he’d have finished munching his sandwich and would be changing into shorts, getting ready to play. There wouldn’t be all this disagreements and anger. But he knew he was right, they were wrong. The site of Ronan disgusted him more then anything.

“Shut up!” he shouted. The laughter abated. “You laugh again and I’ll beat all of you.”

With that, he pushed his way through the crowd and ran for the dinning hall.