Our school uniform was comprised of a light-blue, short-sleeved button-down polo, tucked inside a dark brown, knee-length skirt for girls (pants for boys), white socks and a pair of shiny-black shoes (no heels). To say that I hated it was an understatement. Just imagine the colors on my skin. It was utterly a disaster! If anything, it made me look much darker. I always found myself wishing for the rainy days to come sooner because then, we were free to wear blazers and jackets of our choice.
To my dismay, the rainy season hadn't started yet when classes began. I didn't want to look stupid sporting dark jackets in this heat. But one thing's for sure. It was just a matter of weeks before my classmates got tired showing off their tan lines. They'd soon shed their sun-kissed skin and I'd be left as one of the few perpetually sunburnt people on campus. Sure there were other morenas like me, but given my height, I stood out more like a giant sore thumb. A dark, giant sore thumb.
"You're in 4-Faith." Lexi met me halfway as soon as she saw me walk through the lobby. Her announcement saved me from joining the cluster of students poring over the lists on the bulletin board which had the room assignments for all high school students. "We only have lunchtime to meet for the whole school year, though."
"I expected that," I told her matter-of-factly. It wasn't new to me. Lexi and I had only been classmates once. Back in sixth grade when we were both serving detention, we hit it off and started hanging out all the time. After that, we would spend recess and lunch time together even when she'd consistently be in the cream section. For senior high however, she chose ABM while I took the Humanities track. Like what she said, we could still spend lunchtime together as always.
However, I couldn't help but feel as though we'd be in a long-distance friendship separated by walls and conflicting schedules. I had heard it from our seniors. Was I ready for that?
My musings were disrupted when she smiled widely like a Cheshire cat complete with glinty eyes. It made me nervous. "W-What?" I asked.
"You're in the same class as North."
I blinked at the unfamiliar name. "Same class as who?"
"North. My cousin," she clarified, craning her neck as if looking for someone. "I guess that's a sign that you'll be his buddy in this school."
"I'll be the judge of that. What makes you so sure we'd get along?"
"Gut-feeling."
I didn't mind hanging out with boys. For starters, I had been spending more time with boys than girls, thanks to my male-dominant family and playing with the Voyagers. But based from what Lexi briefly shared about her cousin (aside from the fact that he was tall), said guy also came from the big city. As I rarely went to Manila nor had any interaction with someone from the Metro, babysitting a city boy might be a tall order for me. Figuratively speaking.
"And speaking of my cousin," she glanced at her wrist watch. "I'll have to pick him up from the Registrar's Office." Without another word, she disappeared in the sea of students excitedly rushing towards the bulletin board for their room assignments. It was my cue to head to my assigned classroom where I could leave my stuff.
The designated rooms for senior high students were all in the top floor. Maybe the management thought we earned the privilege of climbing four flights of stairs to get to class everyday thinking it was a reward or something. In my opinion, however, it was sheer punishment. And without Lexi or Kuya Six who graduated two years ago, I felt vulnerable whenever I roamed the school on my own. Climbing the staircase, included. It was like coming to battle alone.
Heaving a deep sigh, I hunched my back and kept my gaze fixed on the floor to remain inconspicuous. It was how I had always deflected the unwanted attention, how I managed to block out comments thrown my way. But before I could even take another step, I heard a buzzing that was growing by the minute. Goosebumps started to crawl on my skin, a tell-tale sign that there were eyes pinned on me.
I made a mistake of turning around. And saw a group of boys with its 'leader' Brandon, a player from our archrivals, Sto. Domingo Comets. Beside him was a familiar guy who grinned and cocked his head at me as if in greeting. Belatedly, I realized it was the guy with a leg wrapped in a Velcro. I was about to smile back at him when his lips formed the words and shouted: "Matuling!"
The world ground to a stop as all eyes swung to my direction. The deafening silence was followed by eruption of laughter from all sides. And I felt the tin wall I had built crumble around me. The cackles from Brandon's group obliterating what was left of my shield. Tears stung my eyes but I fiercely blinked them away and bravely flashed my middle finger at them before practically running up the stairs, their laughter still loud in my ears.
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Matuling = dark-skinned
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Peg for North Vergara is Kobe Paras