Chapter 2

7.8K 543 175
                                    

My room was on the second floor, so when I reached the stairs, I bolted straight up. Out on the hallway, there were already long lines of students from different classes.

"Mr. Torres," Mrs. Misaki—the pale, bony teacher in charge of our class—greeted. "You're late. Again."

I check my phone again. It's exactly seven o'clock so technically, I'm on time but I decided not to say that. Mrs. Misaki has a very unique interpretation of tardiness. For her, on time is late, five minutes early is on time. And I found it best not to argue with her about punctuality—a lesson I learned the hard way. The first time we argued, she gave an impromptu lecture of the matter, specifically for me while I stood awkwardly in front of the class. That day still makes me cringe every time. "Um yes, sorry I'm late."

"Fall in line, please," she said. Then she went to the front of the line to lead us down.

"Yes, ma'am," I went to the back of the line as the class file downstairs. We were heading for the multipurpose hall to have our pictures taken. At least, that's where we went last year.

"Hey man," One of my friends in class, Marc Santos, was also at the back.

"Hey," I said, nodding back. His black hair was unruly, like he just woke up from bed, put on his uniform and went to school. His brown skin cannot hide the dark droopy bags under his eyes. "You look dead."

"Yeah," he yawned. "I've been catching up."

"Just last night?" I asked. I'd been studying hard for the last two weeks and I'm still not confident about the test. "How far have you've gotten?"

"As far as Arabasta arc."

I blinked. First, because I thought he meant he was studying last night. Second, he's still at Arabasta arc so that means he just started watching One Piece, but hey, better late than never. "You weren't cramming or anything?"

"Cramming is for losers," he said while yawning. "Seriously, just listen to class. It's a lot easier."

Now, that would have been inspiring but this was coming from someone who binge-watched anime the night before a major exam.

When we got inside the multipurpose hall room, a girl was having her picture taken with the white wall as her background. There was a long line of students, starting from Class A, working down till Class E. The queue was moving fast, at least only half of Class A remained inside. It wasn't long before our class, Class C, was next.

When it was my turn, I stood in front of the tripod. The photographer told me to stay still. A flash of light and I'm done. Since I was the last from our class, the next class was called in and I went out on the other side of the room.

Outside, I saw Marc and our friends standing in a small group. I went ahead and joined them. We had to wait while our teacher confirms the results with the photographer before going back to class. Digital cameras are used nowadays so we would know the results instantly, instead of waiting for an hour to develop the film back in the analog days.

The idea is that the haunteds would have their pictures altered—their heads would be missing from the pictures.

From what I've learned from years of school reminders and the local news, is that the type of camera doesn't matter, so anyone can do this even with just a low-resolution phone camera at home. I know a lot of my classmates had their pictures taken already before coming here. The result is consistent. At least that was what we were told.

And if you did try this at home and found that your kid is haunted, you still have to go to the nearest school or city hall, along with those who are homeschooled, out-of-school youth or those who have no access to a camera, to notify local authorities so they can take your kid to the shelter. So that's additional, unnecessary work if your son or daughter is already attending school. That's why my parents and I figured I'd just have my picture taken here.

But there really isn't a need for all of this. We could even have done this ourselves, take a selfie back at class and just report it, in private if you prefer, to your teacher. Some do. But even after seeing their picture with their head intact, a lot would still opt for the school's picture-taking thing. One, because it's mandatory—the school is responsible for every student they have enrolled, so this system allows the school to have a record that shows every student present today underwent the identification procedure, absolving them of legal consequences—and two, because having two sources confirming that you're not haunted is more assuring than just the selfie you took.

When our teacher came out, all the chatter stopped. It was so quiet that the only thing I could hear was Marc taking a deep breath besides me. I'm not worried, though; waiting for what Mrs. Misaki was going say. There are only two things that would happen right now. Either she walked up to the front of the line or she calls out a name. She paused for a bit, straightened her suit and cleared her throat.

"Cana Bernardo?" Mrs. Misaki said.

She scanned the line. When she found Cana, Mrs. Misaki approached her with quick, small steps. In her most gentle voice, she smiled, "Can you come back inside, please?" After that Mrs. Misaki's turned and went back to the room in a hurry. I could have sworn to see her lips quivered.

"No..." Cana whispered. "No, no." The girl bursts down crying. I guess that's the downside of not taking a selfie, checking for yourself if you're haunted. When you actually got identified, well...you're not prepared. Her friends went to comfort her. One friend was hugging her. Another was holding out her handkerchief. 

When a teacher calls for a student after picture-taking during the Haunting month, there's usually only one good reason why. So even without Mrs. Misaki saying it, the message was clear to us all. She wanted to talk with Cana inside, where it's private and easier to break the news.

Even with the knowledge that it's generally safe staying in the shelter, I guess some people just can't handle it.

Cana Bernardo. I thought. Petite, olive skin, her light brown hair falling in waves on her shoulders—a traditional filipina morena beauty. I have to admit, there were times when I caught myself stealing glances at her. But it never got any further than that.

Mrs. Misaki went out again. I thought she was just fetching Cana—the girl didn't move an inch from where she was standing—but instead, she cleared her throat again. She read out another name.

"Vergil Torres." This time, a smile was plastered across her face but her eyes were screaming. This is what I like about Mrs. Misaki, she truly cares about us, her students, even though I couldn't care less about being haunted. To be honest, my first thought was how my trip with my parents this weekend will have to wait. Then she asked the class president to go back first.

Marc and my friends exchanged some jokes about how lucky I am to skip school for a whole month and how they wished they were haunted in my place.

"See you, losers," I waved to them as they filed back up to class. Then, Cana and I went back inside.

HauntedsWhere stories live. Discover now