Mok crouched as low as he could in the shallow drain; he had to hide. He lowered his head till his nose almost touched his knees which were already submerged deep in the mud, but still his stubby legs and extravagant waistline would not be flattened. The drain was a mistake, he thought, he should have hidden behind that pile of bricks. For the umpteenth time in his short, plump life he wished he could be thinner, his body leaner and his contours more streamlined. Like Cheng. Or Soon. Good grief! Were his buttocks sticking out of the drain? Mok wondered. Furtively he raised his head and looked at the uncompleted house he was hiding from.

This was the construction site, separated from the school by a tract of bushes and rubber trees. The banging of hammers, rattling of chainsaws, and the clanging of pile drivers had been the bane of many of Mok’s more soft-spoken teachers. But Mok loved the construction site, not because the construction boom meant more jobs for people like his father, nor because of the stimulating imagery of bulging biceps stepping out of bulldozers into the arms of beautiful women bearing jugs of dark frothing alcohol. Mok loved the place simply because it was there that the group came almost everyday. They would watch the construction workers manoeuvre huge slabs of concrete into position, collect tile chips and marble pieces for souvenirs, play Catching or Hide and Seek, or simply chat amongst themselves in an uncompleted house away from those in which work was currently in progress. They would be in a world of their own until one o’clock when their lessons at school would begin.

The house that Mok peeped at was at the furthest corner of the construction site from the school and a hundred metre dash away from the haunted house. With that thought, Mok glanced to his back and immediately scampered out of the drain, scratching his thick thighs against the gravel and ran, shouting to his friends to warn them. The Gang had come.

Mun sprang up from under a staircase and saw the Gang jumping from the window ledge of the house opposite in pursuit of Mok. Uncertainly, he stumbled backwards straight into Lam who was rushing towards the window.

“Come back here,” Lam ordered, pulling Mun with him. The Gang had stopped beside the drain at the realisation that more of them were in the house. When Cheng and Soon joined the others at the window the group stood defiantly facing the Gang.

The confrontation began as a tirade of every obscenity and insult the boys could think of. If the gods had willing ears, every part of the body of every boy would have diseased and dropped off there and then. Everyone’s sisters, mother and future daughters were subjected to every degradation which their young minds could conjure. But as if restricted by some religious code, the fathers, brothers and future sons were spared: male relatives remained sacrosanct! Was it because the boys’ protective instincts for their fairer relatives were more vulnerable to insults? Or were male relatives always more distant and cold so that insults directed at them would be just so much water over a duck’s back? Perhaps it was the nature of the insults which made it ludicrous to apply them to male relatives.

Imaginative though their young minds might be, there came a point in time when they ran out of verbal insults and the first volley of gravel came hurtling through the window. The Group returned in kind with whatever ammunition their hands could snatch from the floor and soon the air was filled with missiles flying back and forth.

While the Gang was in the open and vulnerable they had the space to dodge missiles thrown at them and space with which to launch their own missiles more accurately and forcefully. In contrast the Group could hide behind the window but could not aim and throw as effectively because they kept getting into one of another’s way. Whether by design or by the attrition of caution the boys progressed from gravel to pebbles to stones and rocks, each missile outweighing the previous one.

At first Mok hardly felt any sting when hit; he merely cursed and swore at the fact that he seemed clumsier than the others, but as the volleys continued he could feel the small cuts smarting on his arms and forehead. He dodged and the latest missile smashed against the wall chipping the cement. As the ferocity of the incoming missiles kept his head down, Mok found himself hiding more often than shooting.

Another dodge and suddenly Mok heard an angry yell from behind, felt himself pushed to one side and saw the blur flash of a large red object hurtling through the window. Lam had resorted to the pile of bricks! The brick missed its mark and shattered against the surface of the road while the Gang froze for an instance in the face of this new threat. Another roar from Lam and another brick went crashing into the drain beside the older bully. The Gang beat a hasty retreat to the house opposite but the older bully decided to dash for a piece of brick as well. A shout and this time the brick hit the older bully squarely on his shoulder, knocking him backwards to the ground with a yelp! Enlivened with rage his short sleeves torn and bloodied, the older guy sprang up holding the broken piece of brick, braced his body and arm backwards in a short-putt position and was about to shoot with all his might when a deep throaty yell came from someone to his left. The yell stopped him in his tracks. It was the yell of an adult- of authority. The older bully hesitated, looked around as if suddenly aware that his companions had deserted the fight, threw the brick into the drain and took off towards the Bridge.

Staring after them, Soon thought that they would follow the path that skirted round the haunted house to pass under its decaying porch and through the two wooden stumps, remnants of what had been its gates. But to his amusement, the Gang gave the porch a wide berth, took briskly to the edge of the bushes, pushed their way through and waded in knee-high lalang to rejoin the footpath beyond the gate before disappearing from sight. They were afraid of the Haunted House. The thought pleased him so much that he turned beaming to the others.

But Lam’s expression was troubled.

“Let’s get out of here. Quietly, in case that man decides to come around,” he whispered, leading the way to the rear of the house. There they took the path that ran round the other side of the construction site before turning towards their school. As they trudged along, the group gradually began to ease up, to laugh at the recent battle, to yell and pull at the passing branches in glee.

“Great fight huh,” Mok grinned and gave Cheng a friendly punch at the shoulder.

“Showed them bullies a thing or two,” Soon continued.

Even the usually reticent Lam chuckled a little, put his arm playfully around Soon’s neck and squeezed it in a stranglehold. Soon did not mind the temporary discomfort of looking out from underneath somebody’s armpit. After all this was their expression of merriment. Perhaps it was a method for inviting, or rather compelling attention to each other’s happiness. Perhaps it was the way to reach out for that physical contact which could complete the pleasure or share the joy. Whatever the reason, a gentler touch or a warmer hug would have been unthinkable. But a punch, a stranglehold – these were permitted by their unspoken rules. Never mind the slight pain or occasional discomfort; they were happy and that was what was important.

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