My name is Sara Garcia. I'm 15 years old and the most overworked Filipino demigod since Laon slayed that dragon on a mountain named after himself.
Now I know that you're thinking, "Being a demigod is cool Sara, you get cool powers and become destined for greatness," and you are surprisingly correct. I too have always wanted to have the 'cool powers' that you speak of. But the last bit about being 'destined for greatness' is not all rainbows and sunshine as one may think.
A hero's destiny requires sacrifice. And more often than not, they're sacrifices that you don't want to make. Speaking of sacrifices, this is a story about mine.
I went - I'm sorry, 'lived' in Nightingale High, one of the few boarding schools in the Philippines. I've been here for as long as I can remember.
Coach Jefferson told me I was found on the cement doors of the school entrance when the guards were doing rounds one night. After police reports and searching for missing kids on the newspapers, Coach Jeff took me in then played single-father with a kid he never met for 15 years. Eventually I got older then studied here since it was convenient.
I was most likely going to study here again after 8th grade until everything started going wrong.
Today was the last day of periodical test and Rosa was seated adjacent to me. I finished earlier than she did so I was munching on a bag of Piattos from my bag while she was shading away letters on her answer sheet.
I dare not speak to Rosa every time we have lectures or exams, especially this one. I finished early sure, but that was just because I gave up 30 minutes ago.
She on the other hand liked reviewing her answers and always passed when the time was up, not a second before.
The last test was Mythology, the elective that Rosa convinced me to choose. It was the lamest class I had to take the entire year, and that's saying a lot since I took Chemistry class as well.
While I took the test, I was relieved having realized that this was the last time that I will ever have to encounter anything about myths ever again. Of course, I had never been more wrong.
"Sar," Rosa called from the front of the class. I hadn't noticed that she passed her paper already. She strutted towards me. You could never see Rosa doing something aimlessly, much less walking. Every step that she took was calculated and deliberate.
"I still think Sara is a short enough to not be given a nickname," I replied.
Rosa faced me as she sat on the armrest of her seat. She was wearing our school uniform which was composed of a white straight-buttoned blouse tucked underneath navy blue knee skirts and black school shoes and white socks. I was wearing the same thing but that was where the resemblance stopped.
Rosa had very long and curly pitch black hair, or at least it was compared to my very short, very straight and very brown hair, and it was ponytailed behind her head while her eyebrows, which seemed darker whenever she raised them, was of for some reason fully raised and directed at me.
"The semester is over." she said, eyeing me as if waiting for a comment she would like to hear.
"I am most fully aware of that," I laughed. It was probably the only piece of information my ears caught when the professor mentioned it while giving test instructions. Rosa however, was not as amused as I was with my selective hearing.
"I insist that you come to the retreat." she blurted.
"I told you already that I don't go to those sort of things."
"It'll be fun," Rosa insisted, "and it'll be a new experience for you too. You've always said you wanted to get out of Nightingale for the summer"
That was undeniably true. Being stuck between the walls of the school with no place to go even on summer was depressing.
My best friend Rosa however, wanted to remedy this by inviting me to join the 'Nightingale Summer Reconnection Expedition' which was some sort of week-long retreat held by the school annually. Every year Rosa would ask me to come, and every year I would say no.
Unfortunately for her my idea of 'get out of Nightingale' was going to beaches and enjoying the hot sun. Not going to some mountain and camping for a week or so. There might be snakes or camp chores, both are equally as terrifying.
Rosa was persistent, but I've always said no to her invitation every time she asked.
Rosa was still talking when a loud sound pierced my ears. The sound forced me to clutch my ears. After that, I could slowly make out the sound of chalk being written across the black board. I could hear it each time it struck the board in the form of bass-heavy thumps vibrating in my ear.
"Sar, you okay?" Rosa was snapping her fingers in front of my eyes. "did you get anything that I was trying to say?"
I blinked a few times and crunched my eyebrows trying to focus and remember. I looked at the board in front. No one was writing anything. I shook my head and scrambled for a reply.
"Yeah," I obviously did not, "something about the retreat," I blinked, "and chalk being too loud?". I stared at her, hoping I was right.
Rosa sighed - there's an off chance she didn't mention anything about the chalk.
"Never mind," Rosa grabbed her bag, her arnis and notebooks from her chair. She stood straight like she always did but didn't move.
I took me a while to realize she was waiting for me so we can go to our rooms.
Nightingale Boarding School was large, so normally the walk towards different buildings and classes would have been another cause of my distraught. The white painted corridors littered with blue lockers and doors looked as long as it felt. But the distance between the classes I had to go to was short enough to not merit a complaint.
And complaining according to Rosa, were sort of my thing. I complained of how few and petite the windows in the school were, how the wooden floors in the apartment buildings for students creaked causing me to wake up late at night, how loud the water flowed through the pipes of the building, how shadows of people passing through my door make me lose focus when studying.
Yes, the chalk thing was not the first time that I would hear weird stuff. And it happened for my nose, ears, eyes and my skin. Every little bits and pieces of everything that happened around me I notice because it's impossible not to.
"Coach Jeff wants to see you after classes," Rosa sighed, "You should really give your best on the subjects that you have, she asked for both you and Chris." She added. I shot her a confused look.
"My grades are fine," I scowled.
"Well I can't think of any other reason why he would want to meet you in the first place."
"Maybe he's just going to give me fatherly advice or something," I laughed, "or try at least."
Rosa gave me a worried but I waved it off.
My grades were hanging on a thread.
It was enough for me to stay in school, and for a girl in 8th grade forced to live in a school instead of real home, it was the best you could ask for. Rosa however, on all fronts, disagreed with me on this, at some point I stopped entertaining the matter entirely and just nod. PE however, was a subject I exceled at for some reason, and admittedly enjoyed.
Usually people would raise an eyebrow at the average joe having a high grade in P.E. But as much as my classmates would like to blame my high grades of being the unofficial adopted child of Coach Jeff, they really couldn't say anything since they barely hit me whenever the class would play dodgeball as an activity.
So it was strange why Coach Jeff would want to see me. Often times, professors only asked for you if you had a failing grade - sometimes they don't since to everyone's surprise, not all teachers care if you pass or not, or if you did something stupid. And when you're Chris, stupid comes in abundance - the cafeteria incident remained a hot topic when people talked about him.
I had neither a failing grade, nor have I done something remotely stupid (maybe). I waved away the thought, maybe she just wanted to tell me how high the grades she gave me were and tell me she convinced other teachers to give me the same grade. That would make Rosa happy at least.
On our way to the apartment buildings we reached the intersection of the school's halls when we bumped into Chris, almost literally, the guy was so big that he occupied half of the corridor.
Chris was our other friend, so to speak. He was wearing his red and blue varsity jacket - why he did beneath the scorching heat of a Philippine afternoon made my head hurt - and underneath was the team jersey with the words "Nightingale Sharks" written in front along with the team mascot, Sharky the Shark.
"SARRRRR-" he yelled as he opened his arms as if he was about to hug me.
"I was looking for you, coach wanted-"
"I already told her," Rosa interrupted, her hands stretched, waving in front of his face trying to get his attention.
Rosa was taller than me by an inch or so, but compared to Chris, we were shark food.
"Oh," Chris said, his cheerful tone quelled along with his smile, he turned his brown eyes towards Rosa before turning them back at me "well, see you later then."
He smiled and abruptly walked past us as he waved goodbye. Almost toppling over me like dominoes with how hastily he wanted to get out of our sight.
"What's wrong with him?" Rosa asked - she didn't have to ask.
"Probably because he likes you and you don't" I grinned. " or you know, he was really eager to tell me that Coach wanted to see us and you beat him to it."
"Shut up Garcia," Ooh surnames, that meant she was serious, that also meant I had to push her patience further.
Unfortunately after passing Calculus - I could tell because of the faint snoring of a few kids inside the room, and the school elevators, we ran out of corridors to walk on as we were nearing the apartment building.
I also ran out of provoking statements regarding his relationship with Chris, or at least their "would-have-been" relationship.
We were about to leave the school building when I heard the elevator ding and sensed someone, something reach their hand for my shoulder. I tried to dodge but was caught off-guard at how fast it grabbed me and yanked me inside.
Rosa tried to grab my backpack, but her hand easily slipped away as I was sent plummeting towards the wooden panels of the elevators. I stumbled and hit my back against the wall and heard the doors close.
I quickly got up, eager to recognize - and possibly hit - whoever thought that pulling people inside elevators was a good practical joke. To my surprise, I was the only one in the elevator. Had anyone got out of the elevator after pulling me I didn't know, but with how quickly the elevators closed, and the lack of the sound of feet scuffling hurriedly out the elevators, sure enough it was odd.
It dawned on me that the elevator was ascending. The weird part? Nightingale, at least the building for classrooms, only had three floors, this elevator was on six and still going.
Now I'm all for exceeding your limits, but one can infer that they shouldn't apply to school elevators.
"A prank?" my mind tried to think of an explanation. Pranks were rare in Nightingale, the last major prank I could remember was someone getting locked in the janitor's closet for the whole day.
It had gone terribly wrong. Rosa had told me that they found the girl sitting on the floor with the closets and cleaning materials ransacked as if a storm visited. The girl had to undergo therapy after that while the one behind it was never found.
I finally decided - with the it being the only reasonable explanation - that this was a well-planned practical joke meant for students.
"Ha-Ha," I exclaimed, hoping that the hidden cameras implanted could hear me.
"Great skit guys and gals," I continued, my voice trembling, "you've really outdone yourselves this time, but I have Geology class and I don't need another blank on my attendance so-". I cut myself off, hoping someone would answer.
After a few minutes of silence, I tried to pry the elevator doors open without much luck.
Kicking them open was out of the table, I did not want to break school property, my grades were already mediocre, I didn't need 'obstruction of school property' on my record.
I took a few steps back and looked at the screen that displayed what floor the elevator was on.
The elevator kept ascending, now at floor 10, which to reiterate, does not exist.
After about half an hour of screaming for help and threats to the pranksters, the thought of kicking the door open became more tempting. I didn't have the chance to do it though, since the elevator suddenly stopped.
I lost balance and leaned against one of the walls. The doors creaked loudly as it opened, slowly as if performing a big reveal. The pleasant ding that came from the speakers was barely any consolation for what came before me when the doors opened on floor 13.