The Skyway Pact

“Oi, Minah! Faster, lah! The cable car almost here!” called a boy, his voice a mix of excitement and urgency, as he bounced on the balls of his feet. He had a bright red backpack slung over one shoulder, adorned with a multitude of colourful keychains.

Minah, a girl with a sensible ponytail and an equally sensible purple backpack, rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Sabre, can you chill? It’s not going to leave without us. We bought tickets, remember?” She adjusted the straps of her bag, her gaze sweeping over the bustling cable car station. The air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and the faint, sweet smell of hawker food. Families chattered around them, the symphony of different dialects filling the cavernous space.

Sabre, whose real name was actually Saif, but everyone called him Sabre because he was a bit of a whirlwind, grinned. “Yeah, but it’s our last ride, Minah! Gotta make it count!”

Minah’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Last ride. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken goodbyes. Tomorrow, she and her family would be driving down to Johor Bahru, a whole state away from Sabre and their kampung in Pahang. Sabre would stay here, continuing school, while Minah would start fresh in a new place. The thought made a tiny ache bloom in her chest.

They finally boarded their capsule, a bright yellow contraption that smelled faintly of new plastic and adventure. As the doors slid shut with a soft hiss, Sabre immediately scrambled to the window, pressing his nose against the cool glass. “Wah, so high already!”

Minah sat opposite him, her eyes tracing the familiar landscape that was quickly shrinking beneath them. The vibrant greens of the rainforest blurred into a verdant carpet, dotted with clusters of buildings that looked like miniature toy sets. Soon, they were enveloped in a thick, swirling mist, typical of the highlands. It was like entering a cloud, soft and ethereal, muffling the outside world.

“Okay, operation ‘Don’t Forget Minah’ starts now!” Sabre declared, pulling out a crumpled notebook and a pen from his backpack. He held it up triumphantly. “The Skyway Pact! Our survival guide for being best friends across states!”

Minah chuckled, a genuine laugh that chased away some of the sadness. “Survival guide, meh? Sounds serious.”

“It is serious!” Sabre insisted, his eyes sparkling with determination. “Rule number one!” He uncapped his pen with a flourish. “Always answer calls, even if it’s super late, unless you’re sleeping, of course. But if you see my missed call, call back ASAP!” He scribbled furiously.

Minah nodded. “Agreed. And rule number two: No silent treatments. If something bugging you, must tell me. Don’t keep it inside, later explode like a fizzy drink.”

“Good one!” Sabre wrote it down. “Okay, rule number three: We gotta video call at least once a week. Non-negotiable! Show me your new room, your new school, your new pet if you get one!”

“And you gotta show me your progress on that monster drawing you’re doing,” Minah added. “And your report card, so I know you’re not slacking off without me there to nag you.”

Sabre groaned playfully. “Aiyo, Minah! Still nagging even from far away!” But he was smiling as he wrote it down. “Rule number four: When we meet again, first thing we do is go makan-makan! Lok-lok, char kway teow, anything! Your treat!”

“My treat? Eh, why my treat?” Minah protested, feigning indignation.

“Because you’re the one moving!” Sabre shot back, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s like a welcome back gift for me!”

Minah laughed again. “Fine, fine. But you’re paying for dessert.”

The cable car continued its gentle ascent, the mist outside thickening even more, creating a sense of being utterly alone in their bright yellow bubble, suspended between earth and sky. It felt special, secret.

“Rule number five,” Minah continued, her voice softer now. “No new best friends that replace the old ones. You can have other friends, of course, but you know… no replacements.”

Sabre looked up from his notebook, his usual boisterous energy subdued for a moment. He met her gaze, his expression earnest. “Never, Minah. You’re my oldest friend. My main bawang.” (Main bawang is a local slang for main friend/closest confidant)

Minah felt a warmth spread through her chest. “Same, Sabre. Same.”

He cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed by the sudden serious tone. “Okay, next rule! Rule number six: We gotta send each other postcards! Old school style, with stamps and everything. Tell me about your new adventures, the cool things you see. And I’ll tell you about our kampung, how the durian season is going, all that.”

“Ooh, I like that one!” Minah exclaimed. “It’s like getting a tiny piece of you in the mail.”

“Yeah! And rule number seven: If either of us is sad or lonely, we tell each other straight away. No hiding. We’re a team, remember?”

“Always,” Minah agreed, her voice a whisper. The thought of being sad or lonely in a new place had been gnawing at her. Hearing Sabre say it out loud, making it a rule, somehow made it less scary.

“Rule number eight!” Sabre announced, perking up again. “We gotta have a secret code word for when we miss each other really badly. Like, if I text you ‘Project Durian’, you know I’m thinking of you and want to chat.”

Minah giggled. “Project Durian? Why durian?”

“Because durians are awesome, just like our friendship!” Sabre declared, thumping his chest. “Okay, your turn for a rule!”

Minah thought for a moment, then a mischievous grin spread across her face. “Rule number nine: No forgetting each other’s birthdays! And a proper present, okay? None of that ‘virtual hug’ nonsense.”

“Aiyo! Minah, how to send present from so far away?” Sabre whined, though his eyes were twinkling.

“You’ll figure it out,” Minah said, a smug look on her face. “That’s part of the challenge. Best friends always figure it out.”

Sabre sighed dramatically, but he was already scribbling it down. “Okay, okay, challenge accepted. Rule number ten, and this is the most important one.” He paused, looking at Minah with wide, serious eyes. “No matter what happens, no matter how busy we get, no matter how many new friends we make… we never, ever, ever, ever forget each other. We’re like… like the two halves of a perfectly split mangosteen. Can’t be whole without the other.”

Minah felt a lump form in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady. “That’s a good one, Sabre. The best one.” She reached across the small space between them and gently tapped his knee. “The Skyway Pact. We promise.”

Sabre smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. “We promise, Minah.” He closed the notebook with a snap. “Now, let’s see the view! We’re almost at the top!”

As if on cue, the mist began to thin, revealing glimpses of the vast, rolling hills and distant mountains. The air outside seemed to shimmer, and sunlight dappled through the remaining wisps of cloud. The cable car slowed as they approached the upper station, the murmur of distant voices growing louder.

“So, what do you think?” Sabre asked, holding up the notebook. “Will it work?”

Minah looked at the crumpled pages, filled with Sabre’s messy handwriting and their shared rules. She looked at his eager face, his bright eyes, and a wave of fierce affection washed over her. “It will work, Sabre,” she said with conviction. “Because we made it. And best friends always keep their promises.”

They stepped out of the cable car into the bright sunlight, the cool mountain air invigorating them. The world seemed a little less daunting, the distance a little less vast. The Skyway Pact, sealed in a bright yellow capsule suspended in the mist, felt like a secret treasure, a promise carried on the wind, a beacon for their unbreakable friendship.