PIPER • [5:20 p.m.]
I only have thirty people or less in my phone contacts, and I have never been bombarded with so many calls and texts in my lifetime. Majority of them were coming from Beau, all of which I left unanswered. I wasn't planning on replying or calling back on that night either.
Yes, I've read them all. "Where are you?", "I'm sorry", "Hear me out please," were just some of his redundant texts, and he rang my number quite a handful of times. What was I even going to say if I answered his calls? What would he say if he heard me crying on the other end of the line if I picked up?
The other person who couldn't stop flooding my phone with messages was my brother, who was supposed to be in class over Cambridge, or in a football game, or in some photo shoot for Gap, so I was surprised that he was outside my bedroom, annoyingly rapping my door again and again.
At least he didn't barge in.
"Piper! Open the door! Piper Valentine Gri—"
"Stop yelling," I interrupted. I reached for my throw pillow and covered my ears. Why did Pascal have to yell? I planned on staying at home for some peace and quiet. I wanted my time undisturbed.
"Come on, Pipes. Just let me in," he insisted.
"Whatever," I answered back. As I didn't hear any response for a second back there, I assumed he took my answer as a yes. Pascal slowly opened the door and let himself in. I felt the side of my bed sank.
As my face was buried underneath my pillows, I spoke in a muffled tone. "Didn't you read my text? I said I was fine."
"I did read your text, and I know you're not fine because you don't text like that," I heard him replied.
Not a fan of the deafening silence, Pascal swiped my pillow off from my face. I turned around and my eyes shot up, seeing my brother casually sitting beside me. I gave him a mean look—well, tried to, at least.
"So, how was your day? Are you sick? What happened to you, huh?" He interrogated. I got up from my bed and sat upright, crossing my legs. I just let out a big huff, which made Pascal even more confused.
He rolled his eyes, as if he had already given up on what to react with my unsure actions. "C'mon, just tell me, you know you can trust me."
"Trust you? That's funny."
He was suddenly taken aback by my remark. I was surprised as well at what I just said, but I couldn't help it, it just rolled out of my mouth. I rarely see Pascal in a terrible mood—and when I do, it wasn't even about me—but boy was I witnessing it right now, and he looked scary. A deep frown was evident on his face.
"Excuse me? Something is definitely up. What's with the attitude?"
"Look me in the eyes, and you'll know."
When I was around eight years old, my parents and I were watching one of Pascal's youth football matches. I was intensely craving for some lemon squares but I remembered that the lemon square box was kept inside Pascal's gym bag. I can't really talk to Pascal at that time as he was too busy concentrating at the game. I couldn't do anything about it so I just quietly sat back down to my seat.
Halfway throughout the match, the referee whistled for a time-out and each team proceeded to their bleachers for a brief huddle with their coaches. As Pascal was walking back to the bleachers, he looked up and I saw him scanning the crowd. After he finally spotted us, he fixed his eyes to me and gave me a mildly curious look.
After giving each other these confused stares, it was as if Pascal had a light bulb moment and momentarily shook his head. He jogged towards the bleachers, passing by their team huddle. I stood up and craned my neck, as I saw him rummaged something from his gym bag. After a few seconds, he looked back up to us and waved at me, motioning me to come down.
My small legs ran towards the end of the wire fence gate where my then eleven-year old brother was waiting for me. He was holding up the box of lemon squares in his hands. Ultimately astonished, I asked him how he knew what I was thinking.
"It's all in your eyes, Pipes," he said, chuckling. He ruffled my hair and jogged back to catch up with his team. I ate the lemon squares right at that moment.
That was just one of the many. My brother has this strange "show-and-not-tell" ability, like some sort of telepathy. All he needed to do was to look at you in the eyes as if your thoughts were written inside your pupils, so it was no wonder that he was able to get what I was not trying to tell him.
"Do you know about the deal?" He finally said. My eyebrows rose, and he mumbled a curse, which I faintly heard. It was a very bad word.
Pascal rubbed the back of his neck. He was getting uneasy and shifted his body away from me. "Okay, I can explain."
"Explain away."
"This happened months ago. I was in a party, Beau was there, he crashed my jeep, and I told him to take you to prom instead of repaying me." There it was. He finally confessed. It was exactly what Callista told me days ago. This was such a slap in the face.
Frustrated from my lack of response, he carried on. "I mean, I despise Beau and his superior attitude, but I know it'll mean so much to you if he takes you to prom."
"You're just like him," I said.
"Like what?"
"Superior. Arrogant. Compulsive liars."
Pascal drew back a little. "Ouch, Pipes. Calm down."
My eyebrows furrowed. I wasn't exactly happy with the thought that I was highly affected by the gravity of the situation right now. "I don't think you have any idea on what's it like to be a loser like me. You've always been a crowd's favorite ever since we were little, and I did nothing but support you on that, because I'm very proud of you,"
He was about to say something back but I ignored it and continued on.
"Then a recent turn of events happened, and you made this silly bargain for your precious jeep—with the guy I have a crush on who clearly does not like me back. You've embarrassed me, alright? That's why I didn't go to school. Thanks a lot."
In short, my brother basically glorified my already low-ranking social status. This all stemmed from me having a popular sibling and a popular childhood friend-turned-crush. I was just trying to be under the radar but the universe decided to conspire against me, like I did something wrong to deserve this kind of humiliation.
I pulled my legs up and hugged my knees. I was really trying to hold it in, but in less than a second my throat started to hurt, and my chin began to tremble and my lips were quivering. Silent tears began to roll down my unblinking eyes. Oh, gravy.
"I miss Mom," I choked. Goodness, I missed her so much. I really wish she was here right now. I wanted to hug her so badly and tell her that life was treating me unfairly down here—it was pushing me too far without her presence. I needed to hear her familiar, soft, soothing voice, telling me that everything will be alright.
While I may not be able to physically hear that from my Mom ever again, a warm, masculine voice called me instead. "C'mere."
Slowly wiping my tears away, I looked up and saw a very concerned Pascal with his arms wide open, and I didn't hesitate to go into them. He hugged me tighter as he rocked me back and forth, like I was eight years old all over again.
"You're not a loser, okay? Stop degrading yourself."
I wasn't able to receive the loving embrace I longed for from Mom or Dad, who was forty-thousand feet in the air right now, but a hug from my only sibling in the world would do justice, no matter how mad I was to him.
We both released from the hug and I promise you, for someone who was a daunting six-foot football player, I think I saw Pascal broke a tear.
"I'm really sorry, Pipes. It was such a very foul move on my part. It's just that, I know that you like him ever since we were younger, and I thought that the car incident between Beau and I would give me a chance to set him up for you—so you know, I can prove how I can, at least, mend your friendship or something."
I shook my head and squeezed his arm. "Paz, you don't have to prove yourself to me." I then started to apologize to him for the hurtful words that I said before. I really wasn't thinking straight, and I know that he was just looking out for me.
"No," he pressed. "You were right. I was the one who wasn't thinking straight. I was selfish and a fucking—freaking, bad role model for you," he corrected, knowing that I didn't like it whenever I hear him spew out profanity. He slumped down into my bed and stared at the ceiling. I laid down alongside him and stared at the ceiling with him. After a few minutes of quietness and contemplation, Pascal spoke, his eyes still glued to the ceiling.
"Hey, I know we're not related by blood, but I wouldn't ask for a better sibling. I love you as my own little sister, please remember that." He then looked at me and reached for my hair, ruffling it. "Thank you for being proud of me, I don't deserve it."
Smiling, I also reached out to ruffle his hair but then I realized he was sporting a buzz cut. I playfully punched him in the arm instead. "Of course you do! I love ya, big brotha."
He chuckled and rose up from the bed. "Okay. Let's stop all this mushiness. I'll make up for you. I'll treat you for dinner at the pier," he said, clasping his hands.
"W-wait," I told him, scrambling up from my bed. "Don't you have to go back to Cambridge? It's already past six and you still have to drive for half an hour going back there."
"Cambridge, Schmambridge," he lazily replied, as I heard his footsteps already going down the stairs. I rolled my eyes and started to look for my Doc Martens. Pascal never changed.
— — —
"I have a question for ya," I said, as I munched on some fries. We were at Big Bites Bistro, and it was our favorite restaurant here at the Alcovix Pier. They served the biggest burgers you will ever see, and the most delicious milkshakes you will ever taste, topping it along with a huge slab of vanilla ice cream. Their grilled patties are ginormous that it was good or two, but for Pascal and I, that won't be enough for the two of us. It was a glutton's seventh heaven.
"What is it?" Pascal asked.
"Do you like the idea of him with me?"
He took a huge sip from his milkshake before answering me. "To be honest, my answer would be a resounding no. Then again, it's just the standard response of all the overprotective brothers out there."
"Why not?"
"You are way out of his league. I just gave him a chance-of-the-lifetime deal when I persuaded him to take you to prom, and you know what? I think he really used that chance."
I was way out of Beau's league? That was totally untrue. I was a Plain Jane—a Plain Piper, if you could. This was why Beau and Callista ended up together. They were the true-to-life version of a fairy tale. I wouldn't deny the fact that I wish there was an ounce of hope that he would genuinely like me back, but I wasn't his fairy tale.
Pascal wiped a napkin across his mouth and placed it down the table. He looked at me straight in the eyes, as if he was going to tell me something serious.
"Here's what you didn't know, Piper. I cut off the deal with him right after you went to that house party. Beau really intended to ask you out to prom with no conditions—I'm not lying, I promise. It's your call on how you're going to interpret that."
Upon hearing what Pascal just said, I dropped the fry that was hanging between my fingers.