MIGUEL
The first time I'd been to The Blue House, I assumed it was part of my grandparents' new business venture, like a mini-hotel or a guesthouse. We only ever get to visit Lolo Hermie and Lola Celing during fiestas and Christmas, which meant we've been to the house barely a handful of times.
The upstairs hallway was divided, with an east wing and a west wing. The east wing consisted of two guestrooms on one side of the hall, and a bigger one on the other side. The west wing had two smaller bedrooms, the master bedroom on one side, a linen closet, and a common bathroom at the end of the hall.
I've never been in any of the rooms before, but as I walked quietly down the dim hallway, I knew that the room at the furthest end, was mine. I paused in the doorway and took a deep breath before stepping over the threshold.
"Hold it right there." I flinched as a firm hand landed on my shoulder. I turned quickly to see my sister standing behind me, lifting her face and meeting my stern expression. "This room's mine."
Right. I forgot she's here to make my life difficult.
I turned to face Ate with arms crossed over my chest, blocking the doorway. "Oh yeah? I didn't see a sign that says, 'Kate's Bedroom'." I easily have a couple of inches over my sister, and I gave her a death glare.
That didn't seem to faze her, though. She had that look on her like she wanted to cuss out the world—or me, for that matter. "I saw it first," she said matter-of-factly, her jaw clenched in barely repressed irritation.
"We both did, but I got here first, so it's mine and—Hey!" I'd barely finished my sentence when Ate pulled me aside and stepped into the room, trying to slam the door in my face. "I saw this room first, okay? It doesn't even have an en-suite bathroom!" I flung the door wide open and followed her inside.
The room was big enough to fit a single-sized bed, a wooden desk, a dresser, and a bookshelf. It had two large windows facing part of the backyard and the house next door; one partly covered with an off-white muslin curtain, while the other window, which is smaller, is covered with white blinds. A faint scent of dust hung in the air, mixing with a strange floral scent that made my hair stand on end. White jasmines? Dama de noche?
Either way, I'm already loving the place, and the navy-blue wallpaper should be a clear indication that it's destined for me. I took a quick look around the room, then turned back to my sister, flashing her a smug smile. "This room's obviously for me, now get out," I said, pointing a finger at the door.
Her brows furrowed as she glanced over my shoulder at the wallpaper, but she stood her ground. "What makes you think blue is only for boys, huh? You sexist."
"What? I didn't—that's not what I—" I sputtered as my sister walked to one of the windows and drew back the curtain. "I mean it, Ate. Get out. Right now."
She proceeded to ignore me as she leaned out the wound-up glass window, shading her eyes against the bright sunlight with her hand.
"Wow," she gasped, with a mixture of delight and excitement, "you can see Lola's garden from here. Miggy, it's the only room with a view of her garden!" She stepped back from the window and looked at me, this time with eyes that are almost pleading. "Give this room to me."
I shook my head and then slumped down on the bed, staking my territory.
Ate put her hands on her hips, a frown digging into her brow. "I'm not asking you, Miggy. I'm telling you this room is mine."
I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. Ate would have us going around in circles all day if I let her, but I'm too exhausted for our usual squabble. And honestly? I could use some time to myself!
I ran a hand down my face and sighed. "For once, will you just—will you stop throwing the 'Big Sister' card on me and just let me have this room?"
"Oh, yeah?" Ate chewed on the inside of her cheek and regarded me with a flat expression. "Make me."
That's it. That's the last straw. Patience finally at an end, I reached over and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out of the room.
"Miggy!" she shrieked in protest as she tried to shake my hand off her arm. "Let me go or I'll tell Mama and Papa!"
I tightened my grip until she started cursing. "Tell them what? That you're being bossy again? That you're being a bully to your own little brother? Want to tell your friends too, and our neighbors? Go ahead, Ate, be my guest."
What happened next was a blur. The next thing I knew, Ate managed to grab a hold of my hair, screaming and lashing out incoherently as she lost her balance and fell forward, her momentum sending us both sprawling onto the floor. The breath was snatched from my lungs as I crashed to the ground, half-stunned as my sister leaned over me, grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back.
"That hurt, you dumb, selfish bitch!"
"Call me a bitch again and I'll bash your face in some more!"
We rolled on the floor, each of us trying to gain the upper hand. We were grunting and cursing and clawing at each other for what felt like hours but was probably just a couple of minutes, with me getting the worst of the fray.
Dammit. I hate to admit it but my sister sure can one-up an MMA fighter in the ring if she puts her mind to it.
"Hey!" A deep voice rang out from somewhere outside the room, cutting through the chaos, just as I was about to bite my sister's arm.
Ate and I stilled, craning our heads toward the window.
"You guys okay in there?" The voice said, followed by the sound of tiny rocks hitting glass.
"What the heck?" Annoyed and disoriented, I quickly got up to a sitting position.
Tap. A purposeful sound. Tap, tap. It came from the smaller window facing the house next door.
I got up gingerly and walked over to the window. As I wound up the blinds, a pebble came whizzing past my head and landed somewhere on the carpeted floor.
"Hey, stop that!" I yelped, quickly ducking for cover.
Ate pulled herself up and slowly crawled over next to me. "What, is it Papa?"she asked, voice laden with dread.
I tilted my head to the window, restraining an eye-roll. "It's the neighbor. Duh."
My sister clicked her tongue and cursed under her breath.
"Hello? You guys still alive in there? Scream if it's a yes!"
A frown crossed my sister's face for a brief moment, followed by a dawning recognition. She got up and peered out the window, gasping at whatever—or whoever—it was she'd seen. "It's you. Oh my god. It's you," she said in the most controlled tone of voice, barely moving her lips.
I straightened up, bewildered by my sister's reaction. "Okay, what's going on? What's got you all tongue-tied and—"
"Oh. Uhm. Hi?"
I turned to look at the source of the voice, and saw that it was a boy leaning out the window of the room next-door.
And he wasn't just any boy. This boy was...I couldn't find the right words. He's certainly... pleasant to look at, sure, but while I would usually describe good-looking guys as "handsome", I haven't associated the word "beautiful" with a guy before.
Not until today, that is.
This boy had a full head of hair, the kind you'd want to run your fingers through. And though his head was shaved at the sides, he had a thick crop of chestnut brown hair on top. He has a wan-looking complexion that's bordering on sickly pale, and aquiline nose that gave away his European heritage. He's what we'd call mestizo*.
But what really caught my attention were those warm brown eyes that reminded me of a cat's eye seen in the dusk.
And there, I said to myself, Oh, this boy is beautiful, in that rare masculine way.
"Thomas? You're Thomas Padua, right?" My sister's voice interrupted my train of thought. "Oh my god, this can't be real," she muttered as she waved her hand imperatively.
"Yup, that's me." The guy waved back, offering a lopsided smile that revealed a slightly crooked tooth that I instantly found adorable.
Ate gave a disgustingly coy smile that didn't look good on her normally stoic face. Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink as she tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ears. "Uhm. Hi. I'm—I'm Kate Vargas. From Section B?" She giggled, fluttering her eyelashes with an obviously flirtatious flick of her head.
Ugh.
I bit back a groan and cleared my throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't get the memo. Do you guys know each other or what?"
"Shut it," my sister said, speaking out of the corner of her mouth as she nudged me with her elbow. "So, yeah. I'm Kate and this is my nosy little brother, Miguel Anselmo—"
"Miggy," I cut her off, glaring at her before returning my gaze at Mr. Boy-Next-Door. "You can just call me Miggy. And uh, for the record, I'm just a year younger than her. Eleven months, to be exact."
Great. Way to be subtle, Miguel!
Mr. Boy-Next-Door nodded genially, a bemused smile playing at both corners of his mouth. "So you're related to the beautiful Kate Vargas from Section B, huh? Hello, Miggy. The name's Thomas."
My stomach twisted a little as we locked eyes for a couple seconds, before I broke our gaze. "Nice to meet you," I mumbled, eyes fixed at a spot on the wall next to Thomas.
"Right. So are you my new neighbors or am I a witness to an ongoing crime?"
"What?" my sister balked, the same time I said, "Probably both."
Thomas wrinkled his nose, and then pointed to his face. "Miggy, you've got huge, red scratches on your cheek and neck," he said to me. To my sister, he added, "Kate, you need to put ice on your left temple ASAP to keep the bruising down."
Ate swore as she clapped a hand to her forehead, her face twisting into an ugly scowl as she turned to me. "Miggy, what did you do?"
"Right back at you. You practically tore my skin off!"
Despite the hostile mood, Thomas covered his mouth and chuckled. "This is the reason I'm glad I'm an only child." Ate and I frowned at him as he raised his hands in mock defense. "Alright, alright. 'Guess I'll have to do the obligatory 'Welcome to the neighborhood' greeting." He bowed curtly, cleared his throat and said, "Welcome to the neighborhood, Kate and Miggy. We're pretty much harmless, so I hope you guys are, too." Before we could retort, he clapped his hands and added, "So! Fran will be here in twenty minutes, but instead of moping here doing nothing, I'd like to introduce you to the neighbors instead. What say you?"
I cocked my head and looked sideways at my sister, not sure what to say. She shrugged, trying her best to seem nonchalant. "Okay, sure. Meet us out front," she replied, turning away and heading for the door.
"Cool!" Thomas said as he stepped back from the window and shimmied out his room.
Everything was happening too fast to think. Halfway down the stairs, I caught up with my sister and grabbed her by the wrist. "Remind me again who Fran is?"
My sister grunted as her eyes rolled dramatically into the back of her head. I could swear she saw her brain in the process. "It's his flavor of the month."
I blinked. "His what?"
"It's Frances Alcala," she supplied, as if that's enough of an explanation. "Ugh. She's his girlfriend, okay?"
"Oh." I slowly released her hand from my grip.
Ate studied me for a moment, then scoffed. "Oh, come on. With that face, he's never single for long."
I couldn't agree more. The guy's a chick-magnet, that's for sure. But for some unexplained reason, knowing that fact made my gut churn, which was utterly ridiculous.
Just. What is this feeling? Frustration? Disappointment?
Ignoring the funny feeling in my stomach, I smirked at my sister and said, "You have a stupid crush on him." Her mouth opened to argue but quickly snapped it shut. I couldn't help but snicker at her reaction. "Oh my god, I'm right."
"You're just jealous. Haven't you heard him? He said I'm beautiful."
"Why would I be? The guy's obviously blind."
But just when I thought I could keep teasing her, she retorted by saying, "Well, it's not like you're not crushing on him."
The laughter quickly died in my throat, which was enough to bring that wicked grin back to my sister's face.
"Hell no,"I said rather weakly, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Hell yes. I've seen that look on your face before, all googly eyes and shit. You didn't think you'd be immune to his stupid charms, did you?"
We walked the rest of the way in silence but as we reached the last step of the stairs, she turned to me and said in a low voice, "For your sake, don't ever let Papa see that doe-eyed look you gave Thomas just now, or he'll smack you good." She gave me a warning look before shifting her gaze to the kitchen where Papa was standing with his back to the door. He, Mama, and Lolo Hermie were still deep in conversation and hadn't seemed to notice our presence.
My sister's words were enough to kill the mood, alright. Before our parents realize we've practically clawed at each other's throat barely ten minutes of being alone together, we quickly snuck out of the house as quietly as we possibly could.
※ ·❆· ※
Thomas was already waiting outside, wearing an olive-green bucket hat, an oversized flannel shirt, dark skinny jeans, and a pair of black Converse high-tops. He could give most clothing models a run for their money.
"God, what took you guys so long?" he whined, leaning over the white picket fence that enclosed the front yard.
"Overdramatic much? It's barely been a couple minutes," Ate teased as she pulled her cardigan closer to her body. "Anyway, I'd like to invite you in but uh, this isn't exactly our house."
Thomas waved her off. "It's fine. Anyway, I haven't see you guys around these parts before. Are the old Rosaleses your grandparents?"
I stifled a giggle. "'Old Rosaleses', huh? Sure."
Ate shot me quick piercing glare before smiling sweetly at Thomas. "Lolo Hermie and Lola Celing are our grandparents, yes."
For a moment, Thomas's face fell into a somber expression. "I'm sorry about your Lola. She's one of the nicest people I've ever met," he said, after a brief silence. "We're devastated by the news of her passing. Mom and I were there on the first day, you know. On her wake. But I'm sorry we couldn't make it to the funeral..."
"Thank you," was all I could say. Were the simple words enough? I hoped so. "So uhm, you said you'd introduce us to the neighbors?"
At that, Thomas's face lit up with a smile that showed a trace of his crooked tooth. God, there's a lot to be said about that smile.
"Oh, right! So yeah, see here?" And then, he caught me off-guard by leaning over the fence and slinging an arm loosely around my shoulder, reeling me close to him as though we're long-time friends.
I all but stiffened at the unaccustomed touch, at the easy intimacy with which he treated me and my sister. I swallowed hard, trying my best to focus on what Thomas was saying instead of the stupid butterflies fluttering about in my stomach.
"...and that ugly Lego-looking brick house to your right belongs to the Mendozas. That's where the twins live—Annika and Luisa. But don't let the cutie-pie exterior fool you. Those two are monsters dressed as human children."
That got an over-enthusiastic laugh out of my sister. Meanwhile, I hummed as I crossed my arms, looking at him from the corner of my eye. "Okay." I said slowly. "So, is this your way of introducing us to the neighbors? Pointing out houses from a distance and telling us who's who?"
"Not mincing your words, huh? I like that." He unwound his arm from me and chortled. "Alright, you got me. Well, this isn't exactly the kind of place where neighbors would go outside to sit and chit-chat. Bummer, eh?"
"Do you actually know these people personally?" my sister inquired, one that immediately got a shrug from Thomas.
He blew out a breath and said, "Apart from the monster twins and the old Rosaleses? Meh, not really. Nope." He scratched the tip of his nose and didn't say anything more, effectively ending the conversation.
For a moment, I just stared at the ground, kicking a rock with the toe of my shoe. "So...how long have you lived here?"
Thomas tipped his head back, scratching his chin in careful rumination. "Hmm. Fours years, I guess? Five at most? Mom and I moved here from Busuanga. That's in Palawan."
Ate let out a mock gasp, placing a hand against her chest. "Seriously? You traded life in a tropical island paradise over one in this grimy city? I would never!"
Thomas kept his eyes fixed on the sky. "Yeah...It's not like I have a choice in the matter," he said, and I couldn't help but notice the melancholic tone in his voice. There's definitely something to unpack there, but I'm not in the position to broach the subject. I decided to leave the questions and revisit the conversation later.
"We'd just moved in today," Ate said, breaking the momentary silence.
Thomas grinned as he tore his gaze away from the sky. "Yeah, I sort of figured. Are you guys planning on staying here for the long term?"
My sister lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, a smile curving her lips. "I...guess so?"
You'll hope so, I thought to myself.
My sister's answer earned an even wider smile from Thomas. "Really? That's cool. I could really use some friends my age. It's a getting a little too boring around here, you know? And, oh!" He yanked a cell phone out of his pocket. It's one of those popular Motorola flip models. "We should totally swap numbers."
As I watched him exchanging numbers with Ate, I almost started sweating immediately. This is awkward. I didn't have a cell phone, and I'm probably the only teenager left in this godforsaken city who didn't have one.
Well, I only have myself to blame for that. Frankly, I didn't really find a need for it...until today.
"What's your number, Miggy?" Thomas asked before turning to me, eyes still on his phone as he typed my sister's name.
Swallowing, I stuffed my hands in my jeans pockets and shrugged. "Don't have one. I mean, not anymore."
Thomas lifted his head to look at me, his eyebrows furrowed. "Why not?"
"Dropped it in the toilet. And now it's not working."
Thomas looked questioningly at my sister, who smirked and nodded. "Oh. I thought you were just kidding. Huh." There was an amused slant to his mouth. "How about sticking it in a sack of uncooked rice? Leave it there for a while or something. It might just work after that."
I shook my head sadly. "It's dead. I threw it away a month ago."
"Oh, uhm..." Thomas paused, looking unsure of what to say next. "Well, how about this. I'll add you on Friendster instead. What's your profile name?"
Oh god.
I felt a flush creep up my neck and into my cheeks. Which one could possibly be more embarrassing: The fact I dropped my phone in the toilet while I was doing a number two (a detail Thomas did NOT need to know), or that he might soon find out I'm that dweeb who decided it's cool to have a name like 'MiggyPop Bebop', online?
"What—How about if I add you there myself? What did you say your profile name was?"
"Thomas Padua?" he replied in a tone that meant, What else could it be?, because apparently, I'm the only loser around here! "Like, with a 'u' and not a 'w'. A lot of folks tend to spell my last name wrong."
I nodded, rather absently. "Uh-huh, yeah. So the thing is, I might be getting a new phone soon, but for now, I really don't have one." Ate shot me a look that nearly forced the words right back into my mouth. Then again, I hardly had time to process the lie I'd just told.
Now, I have to come to grips with the fact I need to polish up my persuasive skills to talk my parents into buying me a new cell phone which, honestly, is going to be a lot harder than convincing them I'm straight.
Before Ate could open her mouth to protest and call me a big fucking liar, a car horn blared loudly as a red sedan turned the corner and stopped in front of us, the passenger-side window rolling down.
"What's up?" A girl popped her head out the window, staring at us with an expression that's somewhere between curiosity and amusement.
A smile crept across Thomas's face as he walked over to the girl's side of the car. "Oof. You came rather early, Fran," he said, as he leaned over and gave her a light peck on the cheek.
Oh. So this is Fran. The girlfriend.
I suppose she's what you'd call pretty, though to be honest, I've never met a girl I didn't think was pretty in one way or another. Objectively, she's slender, with strikingly straight, jet-black hair that hung down past her shoulders; big, brown eyes and smooth, olive skin that complemented her beige eyeshadow and cream-colored lip gloss. I bet she's just as striking even without all the makeup.
It's easy to see why Thomas liked her. If I were interested in members of the opposite sex, I would definitely have had a crush on this girl. To top it off, she and Thomas looked good together. Perfect, even. Like a couple of models on magazine covers and billboards.
"Care to introduce me to your friends, Tom?" Fran asked. And then, her gaze locked on my sister, recognition dawning on her face. "Oh, I know you! Katie...Kate! Kate Vargas. Right?"
Ate gave a nervous smile as she stared down at her feet and nodded. "Hi. How's it going, Fran?"
"Awesome, thanks! So, uh," Fran's brows furrowed as she looked from my sister, and then to me, "are you guys lost, or...?"
"They're my new neighbors. And my new friends," announced Thomas, wrapping an arm around Fran's neck.
"Yeah? I already know Kate, of course. But who's your other new friend?" Fran fixed her gaze on me, a teasing glint in her eyes.
Thomas reached over to pat me on the shoulder. "Fran, meet Miggy, Kate's little brother."
Fran's mouth turned into an 'o' shape, briefly scanning me from head to toe. "I haven't seen you in school before."
"I'm transferring to St. Aloysius in the coming school year," I replied promptly. "I used to go to Novaliches High, but then we're moving here, so..." I gestured to The Blue House.
"I see," Fran said, nodding as she once again flitted her gaze between me and my sister. "So uhm, we'd love to stay and chat, but we kind of need to get going before we run into a traffic jam..."
"Oh yeah, we're heading to SM Fairview. Gonna' meet up and hang out with some friends. Wanna' come with?" Thomas offered, one that earned a pointed look from Fran.
My sister had clearly seen her not-so-subtle reaction to Thomas's invitation, because she said, "You know, I think we'll take a rain check. We still have a lot of unpacking to do."
"Okay, well, I'll see you guys later," Thomas said.
Fran's expression softened as she opened the car door and scooted over to make room for him. And before we had a chance to respond, she slid an arm around Thomas's shoulder and pulled him close to her. With her free arm, she waved at us and said, "Guess we'll see you guys around," in a forced, cheery tone that made me want to cringe. I waved back wordlessly, turning away as I made my way back to the house. The car honked behind me as it drove off.
Ate ran to catch up with me as the car disappeared around the bend. "Ugh, I hate her so much," she hissed as she caught up, falling into step behind me. "Though I can't deny she nailed the perfect winged eyeliner. Did you see them? They're sharp enough to cut! How in the hell did she pull it off?"
She went on, unaware of her musings. I ignored her rambling and kept on walking. "Is she always like that?"
"Who, Fran?" Ate paused. "She tries to be good, sure. But she tends to fall in with the wrong crowd."
I scrunched my eyebrows at that. "Is that your way of telling me to stay away from our new neighbor?"
"What? No! I mean, Fran—she's generally a nice person. It's just that—she tends to be a bit cagey with Thomas, you know? First boyfriend and all that." A small smirk formed on her lips. "I can say the same for Thomas. He's a cool guy, but nobody gets why none of his relationships hold up. Nobody lasts more than three months. And he'd been dating nice girls." Then she added, in a voice that's barely audible, "Girls like Fran, for example."
"And you're a poor judge of character," I remarked snidely. "Then again, the guy probably has commitment issues."
Ate ignored my jab and said, "Or the problem could be his friends. Maybe the girls couldn't handle them. They're complete jerks, you know? A bunch of delinquents." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, then continued, "Last year, two of his friends, Bernard and Zeke, were caught smoking weed at the gym. They almost got expelled. Thank God Thomas is no longer gonna' be at St. Aloysius for all that mess he calls friends. I'm surprised he'd never gotten himself into trouble, hanging around with those guys."
I frowned, her last words stopping me from my tracks. "What do you mean he's no longer at St. Aloysius? I thought you said he's not a delinquent."
"He's not. It's just that he's—"
"Kate? Miggy? What are you guys doing out here?"
Ate and I froze in our tracks as our mother's voice jolted us out of our conversation. She stood at the front door next to Papa, whose mouth gaped open in shock at the sight of our faces.
"What the hell happened to you two?" A flicker of something that looked like anger raced across my father's face, but was quickly pushed away as he rested his hands on his hips and tapped his foot.
Oh, shit. I almost forgot my little brawl with Ate. And judging our parents' reaction, the evidence can be seen on our faces.
As Papa stomped his way towards us, my hand flew absently to my neck in a futile attempt at covering what would now be angry red welts where Ate's fingernails had raked. Beside me, my sister's face blanched in panic, which only made the bruising on her temple more noticeable.
Huh. I really did a number on her.
"Explain. Now," Papa demanded as he reached out to my sister, tipping her chin up this way and that to examine her bruises. "You did this to your sister?" He huffed as he shot me a glare.
Yet somehow—and I swear I'm not imagining this—I saw a hint of amusement flash past his face. Or even approval?
I dropped my gaze to my feet and frowned.
What the heck was that look all about?
"Never mind," my father said as he dropped his hand from Ate's face and pointed a finger at me warningly. "Remember this, Miguel: Real men don't hit women. Don't you forget that."
Bile rose in my throat as I clenched my fists. There's an implication in his words, one that's meant to draw a reaction out of me. I nodded contritely before turning my gaze to Mama.
She had a sullen look on her face, shaking her head in disapproval as her gaze flitted from me to my sister. "I thought you guys were upstairs. What are you doing out here?"
For once, Ate is quiet, standing there awkwardly just gnawing on her lip. I heaved a deep breath and said, "We met our new neighbor and came to say hello."
Mama gasped, looking horrified. She swiped her head from left to right before leaning forward. "And they did this to you?"
"No! Earlier, Ate and I—" I stopped mid-sentence and snapped my mouth shut.
"Right," Mama said stiffly as she straightened up and folded her arms across her chest. "If this is about the room assignment, then you'd better settle your differences now, or else."
This time, Ate looked up at Mama, shooting her a determined stare. "Or else what?"
Mama raised an eyebrow and intensified her gaze. "Or else, don't come down to dinner at all." Ate opened her mouth to protest, but Mama tutted and cut her off with, "Get this sorted out now before I change my mind and let you two share a single room instead!" She stepped back and strode back into the house, Papa following her closely behind. That left me and my sister staring blankly at each other.
"Well, that sounded like a real threat," I declared with a shrug. Honestly, I could live with skipping a meal or two (and I'd bet my weekly allowance we're going to have Lolo's twice-reheated menudo* tonight—the kind with the raisins and bits of pig liver!). But sharing a room with my sister? I'd rather entertain the idea of sleeping on the living room floor next to my grandparents' cats!
※ ·❆· ※
So here we are again, back in the bedroom, trying to "get things sorted out", as my mother would have it.
Ate collapsed on the edge of the bed, looking physically spent. She let out a weary sigh as she fixed me with a look, one that says, I'm willing to negotiate. We're both hard-headed and determined to a fault, but once I've set my sights on something, I'd do everything I could to get it, come hell or high water.
I slumped on the bed next to my sister, drumming my fingers on my lap. "You can't make me give up this room," I said determinedly.
Ate remained thoughtful and quiet before muttering, "My laundry."
I frowned at her. "What about your laundry?"
"Once school starts, you'll be doing my laundry."
"What?" I sputtered. "For how long?"
"For as long as we stay here, which could mean forever." Ate stood up abruptly and grabbed her luggage from the doorway. "The deal's non-negotiable. Take it or leave it."
I wanted to wipe the shit-eating grin off her face. But like I said, I'd do anything to get what I want. But whenever it's my sister at the end of a bargain, I knew the price to pay is high, if not absurd.
And yet, I always give in, like I'm genetically predisposed to tolerate all her bullshit, just so she could get off my back. In the end, my answer was, "Only during the school term," and I hated myself right there and then.
"Meh, I could deal with that," she said as she shrugged one shoulder. "You really have it bad for the boy-next-door, huh? Well, he's as straight as an arrow but if he's the kind of guy you like, go for it. Just don't come crying to me. I've warned you already."
"What? You're the one who's got it bad for him. Besides, this isn't about—"
"Later, loser!" she interrupted as she stepped out the room and slammed the door behind her.
"Yeah, right," I huffed under my breath. "I'll show you who's the loser."
I picked up my suitcase from the floor and threw it on the bed, a small cloud of dust leaping up into the air. I covered my nose as I walked to the smaller window and wound it up to let in the air. There's so much to do and I desperately wanted to get started.
I contemplated on what to do first, but the house next door snagged my attention.
The truth? It's an ugly-looking house. It's one of those McMansions Papa loved to criticize and make fun of. It's built with expensive brick or stucco, but that doesn't hide the fact the house has no clear architectural style, like a house designed off The Sims game—by a fifth-grader.
I chuckled to myself at the thought that rich people would actually resort to living in such hideous looking houses when they can afford something better for themselves. Then again, if the Paduas hadn't picked this house, Thomas wouldn't be—
I shook my head and held that thought. I fixed my eyes on Thomas Padua's room. The front bay protruded past The Blue House's concrete-block fence, that only a couple meters apart separated his room from mine. If not for the thick drapes, I could get a full view of Thomas's room. Not that that's good news. If I could see through his room, then he could see through mine just as well.
I cringed inwardly as I stepped back from the window and decided to give my new room a thorough cleaning, starting with the bed and the study desk.
The walls were bare, save for the tasteful navy-blue wallpaper. Thankfully, I brought me some posters to liven up the place. Posters of my favorite anime (Cowboy Bebop and Yu Yu Hakusho) and musicians (Linkin Park, My Chemical Romance, and Blink 182) would soon line my walls, right after I unpack my textbooks and comics, and place them on the shelf.
The sun had already set when Mama knocked on the door to tell me it's time for dinner. I realized then that time flies fast when you're busy and occupied. For once, the soreness on my back and shoulders were worth it, seeing as they weren't from me spending hours in front of a computer.
Dinner was a fairly pleasant affair. Instead of nagging us, Lolo Hermie just shook his head with an amused smile, at the sight of our bruised and scratched faces. He said we reminded him of his younger brother and sister, who used to fight a lot, too. But while siblings can be pretty annoying, Lolo Hermie loved them a lot. He looked after them.
I guess that meant we're also genetically predisposed to love our siblings, no matter how intolerably annoying and disagreeable they could get. I was contemplating on this while giving Ate the stink-eye, and she gave it right back.
The conversation then shifted to room assignments. Mama and Papa took the biggest room in the east wing, which is just as well, since neither me nor Ate wanted to hear them quarreling all the time. Meanwhile, Ate chose to occupy the second biggest room in the west wing, which is just across mine.
Our parents were perfectly satisfied with this arrangement, and neither of us had bothered to mention how exactly Ate and I reached an agreement without further bloodshed. Eventually, though, Mama would be able to put two and two together, and I can't wait to see her give Ate an earful. Until then, I got the room all to myself, and I'd put much of my personality into it until my sister could no longer tolerate and think about taking it from me.
When dinner was over, I quickly excused myself and headed back to my room to make a start on putting up the posters. As I got inside, I noticed the light streaming from the window of the room next door, with movement through the gap in the curtains.
I smiled in spite of myself.
I didn't have pebbles with me, but I had a box of push pins. Thinking they were good alternatives, I gingerly threw one pin at a time, until Thomas appeared through the curtains. As he pulled a T-shirt over his head, I caught a quick glimpse of the smooth, pale skin above the waistband of his boxers. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.
Thomas opened the window, a deep crease lining his forehead before a smile eased across his lips. I'm not about to start describing that smile, other than it's good.
"Miggy Vargas, did you just throw pebbles at my window?" he asked, his tone teasing.
I bit back a grin as I showed him the box of push pins.
Thomas's jaw dropped, eyes opened wide in mock shock and then he laughed. "You did not!"
"It's payback."
He scrunched his nose and nodded. "Well, if you plan to keep doing that, just skip on the push pins, will you? I don't want to lose an eye just yet. Or, you know, get yourself a new phone so we can talk and text like all the cool kids do."
I shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't have a phone, but I'm still one of the cool kids, so argument not accepted."
"Touché, my friend," he said with a wink and then pointed a finger gun at me.
For a moment, we fell into an awkward silence. Thomas leaned against the window and crossed his arms, eyes boring into me. I racked my brain, trying desperately to think of something to say, but it was becoming very difficult not to get distracted and squirm under this guy's scrutinizing gaze.
Thankfully, he was quick to fill the quiet. Clearing his throat, he said, "So the room's all yours now, huh? Good for you. How did Kate take it?"
I chuckled nervously, rubbing a hand on the back of my neck. "Er, how'd you know we were fighting over the room, though?"
"Well...Judging from your little spat earlier, Kate was ready to bash your face in just so she could get dibs on the room."
I could feel my face heating up as I looked away. Jesus H., it wasn't my best moment.
"It didn't take much convincing," I said, trying to hide my embarrassment. "Though I may or may not have agreed to wash a certain someone's laundry for the entire school term."
Thomas gaped at my words. "You did what?" He threw his head back and burst into a fit of laughter, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.
"Shush!" I hissed, putting a finger over my lips.
But there was something infectious in the rich sound of his laughter. The gaiety in those eyes was almost childlike and disarming, so I laughed back. "Seriously, stop it."
"Alright, alright. I'll stop now. I'm sorry," he said in a low voice, finally sobering up as he wiped the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. "So, uh, yeah. I guess that makes you my pseudo-roommate now. And—and your sister's personal laundryman." He cracked the last words out as he struggled not to break out into another fit of laughter.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want..." I murmured as I rolled my eyes playfully. "It's nice to meet you too, pseudo-roommate. How's it going?"
After that, my conversation with Thomas went surprisingly smoothly. For a solid half hour, we sat and talked about inconsequential things. Stuff like how he thought my grandparents' house was haunted ("Obviously you're still alive in there, so that's officially debunked! Or maybe the White Lady* will appear in your bed tonight? Woah, watch out!"), about their creepy old caretaker, Mrs. Ruiz, whom he believed to be a witch ("She's giving me the heebie-jeebies, Miggy. You'll meet her one of these days, then you'll know what I mean!"), and random stuff about his family ("I'm an only child. My dad's Norwegian. You won't be meeting him anytime soon.").
In return, I told him random things about myself, including my love for anime and manga ("No judgment here, Miggy, I'm somewhat of an otaku, too."), that I've an irrational fear of lizards and that I'd once peed my pants when one of the nasty critters fell from the ceiling and landed on my head ("Not looking forward to peeing in my pants, but I'm scared of them too, just so you know."), and that my family and I have been NPAs since the day I was born ("What does that mea—Oh! Ha! Good one! Well no, it's not good. I hope this is your home now, Miggy.").
The truth is, I liked people just fine, but I'm slow to make friends, and even slower to trust. I don't talk a lot around strangers, or to people who aren't friends and family. But once I'm comfortable around someone, they'd soon find I could be a real chatty Cathy.
Thomas Padua was different. We're practically still strangers to each other, but he was easy to talk to. He seemed like a good listener too, nodding and smiling and hanging on your every word like you're the most fascinating person in the world. It made it easy to open up to him. And the way my name rolls off his tongue, so familiar, made me feel like I've already heard him say it a million times before.
It's ridiculous, but this guy had a way of making one feel comfortable and at ease around him. He made you want to befriend him. Ate's probably right about some things—that he's a nice guy who'd just fallen in with the wrong crowd.
I found myself wanting to talk to him some more. I wanted to ask about his friends. About his life in Palawan before his big move to the city. And then, a question that had been niggling at me all day, resurfaced.
What did my sister mean about him leaving St. Aloysius? Is he transferring schools? Or maybe...
Before I could ask, Thomas yawned so big it made his jaw pop. "S-Sorry. I don't think I'll be good company for long. The lack of sleep is finally taking its toll on me." His chuckle was lost in another yawn.
I stifled a laugh and shook my head. "Actually, I'm dead-tired, too. Busy move-in day and all that."
"Right. So uh, it's nice to finally have a pseudo-roommate around here. 'Guess I'll see you tomorrow?"
Tomorrow. Somehow, that filled me with giddy excitement. So ridiculous!
I gave a clipped nod and waved him off. "Yup. I'm not going anywhere, Mr. Padua," I said jokingly, which ended up sounding like I was flirting. "Er, good night," I added hurriedly, the words coming out like a squeak as I pulled down the blinds and stepped back from the window.
Jesus H., Miguel, get a grip! The guy's got a girl—straight as a damn arrow!
I switched on the bedside lamp Lolo Hermie had let me bring up from one of the guestrooms, and turned off the overhead light. I took comfort in its warm glow, sighing heavily at the sight of my bed, now with fresh, clean sheets and pillowcases.
As I padded barefoot across the room, I yelped as I stepped on something small and sharp. I cursed under my breath as I hunkered down to see what it was and picked up what appeared to be a bullet. No. A pebble?
I held it up to the lamp to get a better look and realized it's a white, oval-shaped pill with the number '50' and letters 'MG' engraved on it.
I screwed up my face in confusion. Is this what Thomas kept throwing at my window, earlier?
I rose to my feet, pill in hand. Hanging my head out the window, I leaned back and called, "Hey, Thomas! I've got something of yours!"
No answer. The lights in his room had already been turned off. I tried calling him again. Still no answer. Do people fall asleep that fast?
I sighed as I rolled the pill around in the palm of my hand. "I guess it can wait," I muttered to myself as I placed the pill on the bedside table and climbed into bed, crawling under the soft sheets and moaning softly as my head hit the pillow. The muscles in my body started to relax all at once.
As I closed my eyes, I sensed something safe about The Blue House. Safe and...comforting. Staying here for good may not be so bad after all. And with a warm feeling inside, I realized just how much there was to look forward to tomorrow.
Was there, really?
The last thing I remembered before dozing off, was his face—Thomas Padua's face. It's ridiculous how I was stupidly crushing on yet another straight guy, the very first day I'd met him. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Shit. I just never learn. I'm in for a world of hurt—again.
Yet, despite everything, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
Definition of Terms:
* Mestizo - People of mixed ancestry, usually with a white European and an indigenous background.
* Menudo - A traditional Filipino stew made with pork and sliced liver in tomato sauce, with diced potatoes, carrots, and garbanzo beans; and sometimes, with raisins and hotdog. Unlike the Mexican dish of the same name, it doesn't use tripe or red chili sauce.
* White Lady - In the Philippines, a type of female ghost, typically dressed in a white garment, reportedly seen in rural areas and associated with local legends of tragedy.