Chapter 8 - ABIX & The CCA Showdown?
Chapter 8: ABIX & The CCA Showdown
It all started, as many bad decisions do, with Crystal enthusiastically clicking “Yes” on a volunteer form without reading the full details.
“Guys, guys, GUYS—we’re joining the Inter-CCA Collaboration Carnival!” she announced one Monday morning, sliding into their usual canteen table like she was breaking national news.
Ivan, halfway through a kaya toast, blinked. “What is that? Sounds like a food fair.”
“It’s not a food fair.”
“You sure?” Aleem asked, “Because I’m only listening if it involves char kway teow.”
“No, okay listen. It’s like a huge CCA carnival—music, booths, mini-games, stage performances, the works. They needed volunteers. I signed us up.”
“You mean, you signed yourself up.”
“…I might’ve added your names under ‘Group Assistants’.”
Silence.
“Crystal.” Isabelle spoke like a disappointed kindergarten teacher. “We just got back from JB.”
“Exactly! We’re still in fun mode! This is perfect.”
Ivan groaned. “You used our names without consent.”
“You all agreed when you became friends with me.”
Aleem leaned back. “She’s not wrong.”
Rehearsal Day: Pain
As volunteers, ABIX was assigned to Booth Management and Light Program Coordination. None of them had any idea what those titles meant. On paper, they sounded mildly impressive. In reality, it meant:
- Ivan had to carry chairs from one end of the field to the other. Repeatedly.
- Isabelle was placed in charge of “Glow Stick Logistics” for the evening concert.
- Aleem somehow became the person everyone blamed when the mic volume was too soft or too loud.
- And Crystal? She was “on rotation”—which basically meant she wandered around pretending to be helpful.
At one point, Ivan passed out on the grass, using an event banner as a blanket.
“This is worse than orientation,” he muttered.
Aleem dropped beside him, wiping sweat with his shirt. “This is worse than FYP and we haven’t even started.”
Isabelle was marching towards them, arms full of tangled glowsticks, looking like a very angry Christmas tree.
“I swear, if anyone asks me one more time if these are edible—”
Crystal popped up beside her. “They’re not?”
“CRYSTAL.”
Event Day: Mayhem
By 5PM, the event was in full swing.
Booths were buzzing. Students streamed in from every corner of campus. The live band was warming up at the main stage. Food trucks had parked by the lawn, sending the scent of fried chicken and churros wafting into the air.
ABIX tried to stay sane.
Aleem was stationed at the audio booth, headphones on, managing sound checks with the calm panic of someone who watched three YouTube tutorials the night before.
Ivan became the unofficial Chair Tsar, commanding his small army of folding chairs with a mix of sarcasm and despair.
Isabelle had created a Glowstick Dispensary Station, complete with signs that read “NO. YOU CANNOT EAT THIS.”
Crystal… somehow ended up on stage.
“What are you doing up there?!” Isabelle hissed from the sidelines.
“I got asked to emcee for 5 minutes because the original host disappeared!” she replied cheerfully into the mic. “Hi NTU! Make some noise if you’ve ever cried over your GPA!”
The crowd roared.
Ivan facepalmed. “We’re going to be banned from all future events.”
The Surprise Moment
Just as the sky began to turn pink, with fairy lights flickering to life across the lawn, Crystal jogged over, out of breath and beaming.
“Okay, change of plans! Aleem, Isabelle, Ivan—we’ve been roped into the final segment.”
“Define ‘roped in,’” Aleem said, eyes narrowing.
“You’re joining the Inter-CCA Dance-Off. On stage. In 10 minutes.”
There was a long pause.
Ivan looked at Aleem. Aleem looked at Isabelle. Isabelle looked at the ground, considering escape.
Then Crystal clapped her hands.
“Come on! We’ve been through exams, JB, mystery food poisoning—this is nothing!”
“You poisoned us,” Aleem muttered.
But somehow, inexplicably, they agreed.
The Dance
It was messy. It was uncoordinated. It was painfully off-beat in places.
But it was also hilarious, energetic, and pure ABIX.
Ivan forgot half the steps and improvised with tai chi.
Isabelle turned her nervousness into sharp, robotic moves that the crowd surprisingly loved.
Aleem nailed his section but wore an expression that screamed, I regret everything.
And Crystal? She was the anchor. The chaotic, fearless, magnetic ball of energy who pulled the group together, laughing as she danced like she didn’t care if anyone followed—only that they had fun.
The crowd cheered.
Not because they were perfect.
But because they were real.
The Debrief
Lying on the field afterward, surrounded by empty drink cups and abandoned props, ABIX stared up at the stars.
“That was terrible,” Ivan said.
“But memorable,” Isabelle added.
Aleem chuckled. “I can’t believe we actually survived that.”
Crystal sat up, brushing grass from her arms. “See? You’re all welcome.”
“Never again,” Ivan muttered.
But they all knew it was a lie.
Because in the end, it wasn’t about glowsticks or stage time or being recognised.
It was about showing up.
For each other.
Again and again.