When the car parked in front of Maria's house, the crinkle of plastic competed against the faint piano music as she searched through one of them. "For you." She handed him a pair of black socks patterned with winking emojis. Cheap, to top that, poorly designed, and uncomfortable.
Still, he accepted and said thanks.
"I bought this when you got lost."
"You got lost," he insisted.
She got out and handed half of the bags to the maid. "Night!"
Caleb already entered his gate and didn't reply. He took the plastic bag from the backseat and gave it to the first maid he saw. "Distribute this to everyone. One shirt each." He then went up the stairs. The maid stared after him in confusion, in shock, then hurriedly left to find others.
Inside his room, Caleb directly dialed his father's number.
[What is it?]
"Sir, I'd like to stop studying at home for a while."
[Why?]
"I want to focus on Maria."
[Does she give you a hard time?]
"She's a . . . "—nut—" . . . special case. She needs attention."
Seconds of silent contemplation passed.
[Alex would've done it without sacrificing studies.]
Well, Alex isn't here anymore. I'm the best and the only one left, he thought. You have no choice but to suck it.
[Fine.] His father finally agreed after another silence. [Make it fast.] Then the line went dead.
"Thank you . . . Sir," Caleb still said.
From his pocket, he pulled out the pair of socks Maria gave him. He had to be quick and end it all.
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The weekend passed with Maria's usual invasion. Even going to school together for the new school week was like a forced routine for Caleb. There were still heartbroken ones and oppositions, but nobody bothered with them anymore. Maria's violence and his tolerance of her spread throughout the school. There were even rumors about his inclination toward masochism.
He breezed through the whole day, surprisingly calm, despite being surrounded by idiots. This time, Shalla hung out with them too, to compete against Matthew for Lord's attention. Then there's Tamara. Caleb had to pit against her for Maria's.
It's the most bizarre set-up, and Caleb was a part of it. Club activities drained him. Maria suggested they do a 'Flea Market' concept on Foundation Day.
"I went to a flea market with Mon-Mon last Friday. It was so cool."
Matthew laughed. "Your Highness went shopping at a poor people's den? You breathed the same air as them?"
Caleb gritted his teeth. "I did."
"Do they sell potions there?" Tamara asked while she sewed the second button on a doll for its eyes.
Maria shrugged. "I don't think so. But they have good slippers."
"Can I come with you next time, Ya-ya?"
"Sure Tam-Tam!"
Among the list of things that made him scream internally, one of them was the use of cringy nicknames.
Caleb was the only one who voted against the suggestion. The majority won, so he accepted defeat. They were divided into three pairs for research. This time, he fought tooth and nail and sweat and blood against Tamara just to pair with Maria.
"We're neighbors," he boasted.
"For real?" Matthew even leaned forward in surprise, then wiggled his brows. "Oh, easy access."
And so, Caleb won. Why did he even need to compete for her time? "I hope bad luck finds you sooner than you think." Then Tamara poked the newly finished doll with a pin. In the end, she was paired with Lord. Shalla, with the eyes of someone sold to slavery, was forced with Matthew.
They returned to the flea market the next Friday. In reality, he was the only one who did the task, and listed all the things they could buy and sell, while Maria just bought everything she wanted. Caleb was like a mother, grocery shopping with a wild child.
The backseat was filled with neon hangers and anime-printed bed sheets among others. But rest was still a faraway goal for the day. It was almost nine in the evening when Maria barged in to watch TV.
"It's Encantadio's last two weeks."
"I don't like watching."
"Don't you want to be with me?"
To him, the answer was so obvious. He had enough of her face, seeing whichever direction he turned to.
"You told me you like me, right?"
"Fine . . . let's go."
Caleb wasn't even surprised that they didn't go anywhere. Maria invited him to watch in his own room. He chose to sit on the sofa while she monopolized his bed like it was hers.
She briefed him about the story. Something about an elf prince forced by the king to marry a strange human to lift a magic curse. But it turns out, the girl was also a half-elf princess of the rivaling kingdom.
"What kind of twist is that?" It was too unimpressive, it frustrated him in a way.
Instead of convincing him, she spoke along with the character's dialogue. "Ishumeya chenes, piri piro, mipashea elemento, paro puro—tadea!" She copied the character's hand movements, about to release some spell with underwhelming special effects. "Ololo! Ololo!"
Now he knew where she got her scheduled chants in school. "It's a spell to bring back the dead," she informed him and clapped at the successful resurrection on the screen. "Look Mon-Mon! She's alive!" She exclaimed, and with envy, muttered, "Ah, I want to be a magician, too."
Maria kept on talking, while his eyelids began to droop. Who'd want to watch a predictable show anyway? Happy ending. It's always the unrealistic happy endings. He closed his eyes and rested for a while.
In his dreams, Caleb swam in milk while baby powder poured from the sky like fine snow. It was warm and soft. He found out the reason when he woke up. He and Maria were on the sofa. Her head was on his chest and his hands wrapped around her. She slept soundly like a baby, and for some reason, she smelled like one too.
He never knew she was this small, how fragile her peaceful sleeping face was, and how he could stare at her for a long time.
From the window, the orange color of early morning peeked and painted his room. They slept together, literally, but still. . . .
A strong force hit his ribcage. Then it pounded stronger, erratically, and endless. Faster and faster and faster.
His eyes were glued to Maria's mouth, in a pout as she mumbled something. "But Master . . ." He heard her sleep talking. " . . . not the cake . . . "
He was just there staring, with a chest that was about to explode. He didn't know what to do. "Oh shit."
He pushed her away. She fell on the carpeted floor, still asleep. A second or two, her eyes opened, and in a sleepy voice greeted, "G'moning, Mon-Mon."
"Why didn't you wake me up?" He sat with a stiff spine and rubbed his face with his palms.
"You looked so tired, and I called my house too, I told them I'd sleep here."
"T-Then why were we sleeping together? There's the bed."
She stretched and yawned. "I just want to. You smell so good, you know. It made me sleepy."
He imagined himself sleeping and defenseless, then she came, loomed, and eventually, laid beside him. Together. The whole night.
He freaked out. And why was he freaking out anyway?
"Are you mad?"
"No—Yes! Go home."
"Can I eat breakfast first? I'll ask Nana Cecil to send us fried chicken."
Fried chicken could go to hell, a lot of things should be done. The first was to calm down. Still, he squeezed whatever strength he had left and said, "Let's go to school together."
"Okay!"
Even with the palm on his face, he could still imagine her bright smile. It was blinding even in his head. And her voice, innocent and sickeningly sweet, made his insides churn. "Shit."
Another surge of panic took over him and he ran out of his room.
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