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pielcanelai refuse to edit this. after such a long lag, this update is really just to make sure the backlog doesn't completely murder me.
wc: 3,143
It's rather strange to remember that Kuya Stephen used to have a best friend. He doesn't trust anyone easily. Looking at him, lean and wiry and cranky all the time, you can't imagine he would ever be dependent on anyone else - not a brother, not a parent, not anyone so close.
But he used to have my Kuya Roger. The same way I did. And now he has to stay here, in this place where we both lost him.
Just because I wouldn't leave and he couldn't leave me alone.
I reach out and hold his hand. He doesn't flinch or move away. "Sorry, okay?" I tell him. "Let's go back and get our things, then let's go home. Okay?"
He looks at me. What I said doesn't really need an answer. He turns around the turns off the lights, and after we've stepped out, he shuts the door to the ward behind us.
It's only when we've left the floor that he shakes free of my hold on his hand, and I let him.
We head back to the emergency room, where a pleasant surprise happens to be waiting for us -
"Good news!" the attending nurse says brightly. "She's awake, and she's ready to go home. She was asking who brought her to the hospital, and I told her two friends of hers did."
"Thank goodness!" I remark. Off to one side, Kuya Stephen makes some vague gestures and frantic mouth movements that seem to spell out I am NOT going in there!
So I pout at him, then turn again to the nurse and ask, "Can I see her?"
The nurse leads me to the cot where Mia Martin is resting. "Her mother called just a few minutes ago," the nurse said. "She was stuck in traffic, but she'll be here shortly."
There's a chair by the bed. I make my way to it. She looks at me wide-eyed, like something small and scared.
Maybe greeting her with a smile will calm her down...?
"Hi," I say to her, when the nurse has gone. "My name is Nikki. I'm not in your class, but I think we're on the same year level..."
Without her glasses, and with the side of her head stitched and patched up like so, Mia Martin looks quite vulnerable - not at all the super-genius I've imagined her to be.
...Then again, what does a super-genius look/behave like, really? For all I know, they're all like this: cute, petite, with long straight hair, and big brown eyes that look like they'll shine in the dark.
...The type Dylan Aiba will go for, perhaps?
"Do you remember me?" I venture. Maybe she doesn't, and I can easily say Hey, my Kuya Stephen and I picked you up out of the sidewalk when that CRAZY MOTORBIKE DRIVER almost ran you over! You owe us your life, for crying out loud, so let's be friends!!
Mia Martin nods, slowly. "You... stepped out into the road," she said. "You asked how I was..."
She still seems a bit disoriented. I'm pretty sure the medicines that made her sleep have nothing to do with it.
"Oh! Here." I fish out a pair of glasses from the pockets of my uniform skirt. Before handing it over to her, I inspect it: nope, no visible scratches or bends. Good, that's one less thing for Kuya Stephen to worry about paying for. "I kept it for you. You were asking for it before we took you here."
The frame of her glasses is colored pink. The frame is thick, and clearly classy - perhaps it's even a brand-name pair, but I don't make it a point to look into things like that.
She takes it and puts it on. Nothing much about her changes. She looks a bit sterner... just a bit less approachable.
And seriously - on her small face, those lenses suddenly look HUGE.
"You know, it really wasn't our fault," I begin.
"Yeah, oh, oh, I know," she stammers. She fixes her glasses on the bridge of her nose, but they keep falling off. "I was... I wasn't paying attention. I don't know what happened, exactly but - "
"The light was green," I said to her helpfully. I'm still hoping she won't make a fuss about this.
"I... I guess."
I wait for her to say anything else. She looks at me from time to time, as if about to say something, but she gives up at the last minute and looks down at the tiny hands she's folded on her lap.
It's hard to believe, even if the evidence is right there.
She's actually shyer than I am!
Mia Martin, my high school's star math and science scholar, has even fewer social skills than I do!
Now, lest you get the wrong impression: I'm not happy about it. Just surprised, although not unpleasantly. I'm not comfortable around a lot of people, but other quiet types like myself are all right.
I'm also rather hopeful that she didn't get picked on as much as I did, growing up as the "shy girl" in the neighborhood.
So I guess it's up to me to get the conversation rolling. I take a deep breath and give it my best shot.
"Hey," I begin, "Sorry if I was overstepping my bounds or anything, but... I took a look at some of your books. They seem really interesting. You know, I like to read too!"
A flicker of life touched the center of her eyes. I just knew that was the right thing to say! But it's not time to congratulate myself just yet...
"I was starting to read this one, what's the title again? About the brave country girl who came to the big city and met this mechanic - "
" - and this millionaire," she supplies eagerly, sitting up and moving her injured head juuuust a few centimeters off the surface of the emergency room pillow. "And they both fall for her, right? Oh, I love that one! It's one of my favorites!"
She laughs a bit. I like her laugh. It's quiet but high-pitched, like little bells heard from a distance.
"How does it end?" I ask her.
She starts to tell me - or at least I think she does. She just beams and opens her mouth to say something - then her eyes kind of go blank, as if she remembered something important. And she clamps her mouth shut.
"Oh... I can't tell you. I'll spoil it." She smiles weakly. "I'll just lend it to you."
"You don't have to...!"
"It's okay! I want to!" Her smile broadens. The happiness she radiates is infectious; I don't think her glasses (obviously instruments of intimidation!) can get in the way of that. "Is that all?"
"Hmm... let's see... can I borrow Silvertoes, too?"
She beams. "Did you like that? It's so cheesy! But I enjoyed it a lot, and I still reread it now!"
It turns out that it was the novel that got her exploring the Valentine Silhouettes fiction line. Valentine Silhouettes novels are quite popular among girls my age, I'm aware, though I've never had the chance to try it myself.
Mia assures me that not all of their books are good, but the ones that are, are quite worthy of being called 'literary classics.'
In a surprisingly short span of time, I've also agreed to borrow Mia's ten most favorite Valentine Silhouette novels in the whole world, without thinking that I probably won't have time to read them all.
It's just - she loves those books so much! I can't resist just wanting to try them out!
Too soon, Mia's mother arrives to pick her up. Mia and I are still talking, but I can already hear her and Kuya Stephen talking outside the emergency room.
"Talking" might not be a good word for what they're doing. Their voices aren't raised, but it's probably safe to assume that they aren't making friends out there.
"Nearly ran her over! By nearly I'm sure you mean you had every intent of running her over if only the chance presented itself!"
"Look, I'm not saying we wanted to run her over, okay? That's just like saying she wanted to walk out into the road and nearly get hit by my bike."
"Are you being sarcastic? Are you sassing me?!?"
"Nope. Not being sarcastic at all, MA'AM."
"Oh you are SO going to court for this, young man..."
Uh... yeah, good old Kuya Stephen and his flawless manners.
But just as I was stepping out, Mia's mother came flying into the room. She's a small, pretty, fine-boned woman with glasses even thicker and twice more intimidating than Mia's. She's wearing a VERY nice suit, which makes one think she's a government official or a businesswoman of some sort. Though for all her glamour, the poor woman looks stressed out.
So does Kuya Stephen, close at her heels, looking crabbier than usual.
She sits on the bed and takes Mia's face, showers it with kisses.
"Mia, baby, Mama is so sorry," is her greeting. "Your Papa and I both got a phone call from the hospital. We talked and I said I was in the middle of a hearing, so I asked him to go on ahead. But your Papa was just getting ready for surgery too, so... I thought he agreed that he wasn't going into surgery, because he was going to pick you up!"
Kuya Stephen and I stood dumbstruck near the foot of the bed. A lawyer for a mother, and a doctor for a father?
Have I used the word "royalty" before? I'd like to use it again now, please, as it suddenly seems more appropriate...
"So I went ahead with my closing, and then your Papa called asking about you, and I said I wasn't there yet, and he said 'I thought you were going on ahead!' And then I - "
"Mama," Mia weakly interrupts, "Mama, it's okay. I'm fine. Can we go home now?"
Mia's mother takes a few deep breaths. She straightens up and pushes some loose strands of brown hair away from her face, back up into the tight bun on the back of her head.
"Yes, yes of course we can! The doctor says you just need to keep that bandage on for a few days, but you'll be fine." She touches the patch of gauze on Mia's forehead gently, gentle enough to keep Mia from flinching. Then, in a complete turnaround, she shoots a glare at Kuya Stephen. "No thanks to these two young people here! Harassing a defenseless little girl -"
" 'HARASSING'?? " Kuya Stephen yells. I put a hand on his arm, but that does nothing to calm him down. "Okay, wait, that's not so bad - 'LITTLE GIRL'?! Ma'am, trust me, I took her here in my arms, she's just about as little as a sack of - "
"Kuya," I warn him. At least that makes him shut up.
I look over at the bed and notice that Mia Martin is blushing fiercely. She must not be used to all this excitement. Like me, she must be wishing this would all stop before it erupts into something messy, costly and long-drawn.
Mia's mother tosses her chin up. "Well, at least my daughter is safe. I have to thank you for bringing her to the hospital, I think that's enough evidence to prove that you meant her no harm."
Well, that's a little better. Kuya Stephen visibly relaxes.
"And you stayed with her until I came, even if at this hour, your parents must be worried sick about you two. So... " She stands up, straight up, and walks over to Kuya Stephen, her expensive heels making thick TACK-TACK sounds on the antiseptic floor. "You have my gratitude," she says, and extends her hand.
Kuya Stephen takes and shakes her hand. I notice that there's no real warmth in that exchange. Kuya Stephen is still frowning, and Mia's mother isn't smiling at all.
"I don't have much cash with me right now," she goes on to tell us, "but if you will give me your names, cell phone numbers and addresses, my family will send you proper thank-you gifts in the morning."
"No thanks, ma'am," Kuya Stephen answers, before she can say any more. There's no "bite" in that "ma'am" this time. "Come on, Nikki."
Kuya Stephen strides out. With a hurried goodbye to Mia and her mother (there wasn't even time for a "Nice to meet you") I stride out after him. I finally catch up as he's prepping his motorcycle.
At the small parking lot just outside the hospital, I spot Mia's mother's car. It's shiny and stylish, and it's too bad I don't know a lot about cars. All I know is that it looks expensive and very well-maintained. Kuya Stephen's dirty old motorbike can't even park beside it without emphasizing how old and dirty it really is!
"Kuya, let's not be rude to them," I said to him. "They're offering us a thank-you gift, we can't just say 'no, thanks' and walk away!"
"Well, we just did," Kuya Stephen says. "If they really want to, they'll seek us out. But right now, I don't want to take anything from that family."
"Why not? It's not like they accused you of hitting Mia on purpose." I get on my regular seat on the bike, behind him.
Kuya doesn't answer. All I really know from his silence is, he's eager to get out of there.
The next day is supposed to be an ordinary, quiet day at school. I'm supposed to go in, study hard, pine after Dylan Aiba, study even harder, hang out with my friends, then go home.
High school life is supposed to be this simple... right?
Then, just as I'm moving some implements from our homeroom to the science lab, and my arms are overflowing with charts, disconnected light switches, plugs, cables and wires, I hear a scream echoing down the hallway - definitely not a scream that follows my regular routine.
"NIKKIIIII~!!"
I don't actually drop all the implements I'm carrying.
They just kind of jump out of my grasp all by themselves.
I'm just glad none of it is breakable...
"NIKKIIIII NIKKI NIKKI!" the scream continues. Something small with HUGE glasses and long brown hair comes bouncing up to me.
And ignores all the non-breakable stuff lying about my feet and engulfs me in a great big...
GLOMP.
(Yes, I believe that's the word for it.)
I laugh nervously - people are starting to stare, okay - and pull away, so I can keep Mia Martin at arm's length. I prepare to ask her what's up, but she speaks ahead of me.
"I was waiting for you to come find me," she reports. "When you didn't, I had to come and find you. And here you are!"
"Here I am," I chuckle. "I'm really sorry! I didn't think of seeking you out because - well, I thought you would be resting."
She still has that patch of gauze on her forehead. Right now it's slipping a little so it's almost covering her left eyebrow. But she doesn't seem to mind. In fact I think she's forgotten that it's even there.
"Listen," I start to say, "about last night. My friend and I..."
"Oh, you must let us thank you," Mia Martin says, taking both my hands in hers. "You and your friend were so good to me. What's his name, by the way? I never got to asking, did I?" She laughs. Again, the sound of tiny, distant bells. "I must've been really out of it last night. How careless of me!"
I'm about to refuse some more - politely, as is only proper. Ever heard that you should always refuse three times, as a common courtesy? - but she's already whipping out her cell phone, and asking, "What's your cell phone number again? I don't have your last name either. You never told me, right? How do you spell it?"
And just to keep the flow of the conversation, I just answer her questions as quickly as I can. That is, before she can think of any more to ask.
"Oh dear," Mia says while I'm talking. She casts a small frown down at her cell phone, "Is it 2 PM already? I have to run to tutorials! I'm getting coached for the regional science quiz bee, you see. And Ms. Magalang hates it when her 'kids' are late!" She claps the palms of her little hands together and brings them up to her face. "Sorry! I'm really sorry! Let's continue this talk later, okay?"
Uhm. "Okay! Er... you better go on ahead, then! I've just got to..." I trail off and break eye contact so I can bend down and start picking up the switches, cables, charts, etc scattered on the floor.
Mia takes one look at the scattered lab inventory and pouts. It seems it's with a heavy heart that she helps me pick up the implements, and I'm not exactly sure why.
I learn in a minute, though.
"Here, I'll help you carry these," she offers, as she refuses to hand over a particularly lightweight bunch of charts. "We girls have to stick together when we do the tough jobs, right? Because boys don't help girls in need, even when they're right in front of them!"
Aah, I finally get it. She's been hoping that a bunch of freshmen who've been hanging out near us would come over and help me pick up the stuff. When none of them approached, she got upet.
I thought at first that it was just the nice, quiet kind of upset... but suddenly, charts in her arms, she turns to the boys she's been eyeing. "Aren't you ashamed of yourselves," she snaps at them, in her cute high-pitched voice. "Don't you want to be knights in shining armor when you grow up?"
The boys stare at her dumbly while she walks off in a huff. I lag behind, and I stay just in time to hear them snickering - not in a malicious way, but in a completely understandable "What was that all about?!" kind of way.
Mia insists on accompanying me to the science lab, which is close to the science teachers' records room anyway, where the terrible Ms. Magalang is waiting. She helps bring half of the stuff she'd knocked out of my arms when she crashed into me... and all that aside, I'm actually grateful for the help.
Yes, I think it's safe to say that Mia Martin and I have become friends.
...although I wish I could be sure that that's a good thing.
to be continued
wc: 3,143
It's rather strange to remember that Kuya Stephen used to have a best friend. He doesn't trust anyone easily. Looking at him, lean and wiry and cranky all the time, you can't imagine he would ever be dependent on anyone else - not a brother, not a parent, not anyone so close.
But he used to have my Kuya Roger. The same way I did. And now he has to stay here, in this place where we both lost him.
Just because I wouldn't leave and he couldn't leave me alone.
I reach out and hold his hand. He doesn't flinch or move away. "Sorry, okay?" I tell him. "Let's go back and get our things, then let's go home. Okay?"
He looks at me. What I said doesn't really need an answer. He turns around the turns off the lights, and after we've stepped out, he shuts the door to the ward behind us.
It's only when we've left the floor that he shakes free of my hold on his hand, and I let him.
We head back to the emergency room, where a pleasant surprise happens to be waiting for us -
"Good news!" the attending nurse says brightly. "She's awake, and she's ready to go home. She was asking who brought her to the hospital, and I told her two friends of hers did."
"Thank goodness!" I remark. Off to one side, Kuya Stephen makes some vague gestures and frantic mouth movements that seem to spell out I am NOT going in there!
So I pout at him, then turn again to the nurse and ask, "Can I see her?"
The nurse leads me to the cot where Mia Martin is resting. "Her mother called just a few minutes ago," the nurse said. "She was stuck in traffic, but she'll be here shortly."
There's a chair by the bed. I make my way to it. She looks at me wide-eyed, like something small and scared.
Maybe greeting her with a smile will calm her down...?
"Hi," I say to her, when the nurse has gone. "My name is Nikki. I'm not in your class, but I think we're on the same year level..."
Without her glasses, and with the side of her head stitched and patched up like so, Mia Martin looks quite vulnerable - not at all the super-genius I've imagined her to be.
...Then again, what does a super-genius look/behave like, really? For all I know, they're all like this: cute, petite, with long straight hair, and big brown eyes that look like they'll shine in the dark.
...The type Dylan Aiba will go for, perhaps?
"Do you remember me?" I venture. Maybe she doesn't, and I can easily say Hey, my Kuya Stephen and I picked you up out of the sidewalk when that CRAZY MOTORBIKE DRIVER almost ran you over! You owe us your life, for crying out loud, so let's be friends!!
Mia Martin nods, slowly. "You... stepped out into the road," she said. "You asked how I was..."
She still seems a bit disoriented. I'm pretty sure the medicines that made her sleep have nothing to do with it.
"Oh! Here." I fish out a pair of glasses from the pockets of my uniform skirt. Before handing it over to her, I inspect it: nope, no visible scratches or bends. Good, that's one less thing for Kuya Stephen to worry about paying for. "I kept it for you. You were asking for it before we took you here."
The frame of her glasses is colored pink. The frame is thick, and clearly classy - perhaps it's even a brand-name pair, but I don't make it a point to look into things like that.
She takes it and puts it on. Nothing much about her changes. She looks a bit sterner... just a bit less approachable.
And seriously - on her small face, those lenses suddenly look HUGE.
"You know, it really wasn't our fault," I begin.
"Yeah, oh, oh, I know," she stammers. She fixes her glasses on the bridge of her nose, but they keep falling off. "I was... I wasn't paying attention. I don't know what happened, exactly but - "
"The light was green," I said to her helpfully. I'm still hoping she won't make a fuss about this.
"I... I guess."
I wait for her to say anything else. She looks at me from time to time, as if about to say something, but she gives up at the last minute and looks down at the tiny hands she's folded on her lap.
It's hard to believe, even if the evidence is right there.
She's actually shyer than I am!
Mia Martin, my high school's star math and science scholar, has even fewer social skills than I do!
Now, lest you get the wrong impression: I'm not happy about it. Just surprised, although not unpleasantly. I'm not comfortable around a lot of people, but other quiet types like myself are all right.
I'm also rather hopeful that she didn't get picked on as much as I did, growing up as the "shy girl" in the neighborhood.
So I guess it's up to me to get the conversation rolling. I take a deep breath and give it my best shot.
"Hey," I begin, "Sorry if I was overstepping my bounds or anything, but... I took a look at some of your books. They seem really interesting. You know, I like to read too!"
A flicker of life touched the center of her eyes. I just knew that was the right thing to say! But it's not time to congratulate myself just yet...
"I was starting to read this one, what's the title again? About the brave country girl who came to the big city and met this mechanic - "
" - and this millionaire," she supplies eagerly, sitting up and moving her injured head juuuust a few centimeters off the surface of the emergency room pillow. "And they both fall for her, right? Oh, I love that one! It's one of my favorites!"
She laughs a bit. I like her laugh. It's quiet but high-pitched, like little bells heard from a distance.
"How does it end?" I ask her.
She starts to tell me - or at least I think she does. She just beams and opens her mouth to say something - then her eyes kind of go blank, as if she remembered something important. And she clamps her mouth shut.
"Oh... I can't tell you. I'll spoil it." She smiles weakly. "I'll just lend it to you."
"You don't have to...!"
"It's okay! I want to!" Her smile broadens. The happiness she radiates is infectious; I don't think her glasses (obviously instruments of intimidation!) can get in the way of that. "Is that all?"
"Hmm... let's see... can I borrow Silvertoes, too?"
She beams. "Did you like that? It's so cheesy! But I enjoyed it a lot, and I still reread it now!"
It turns out that it was the novel that got her exploring the Valentine Silhouettes fiction line. Valentine Silhouettes novels are quite popular among girls my age, I'm aware, though I've never had the chance to try it myself.
Mia assures me that not all of their books are good, but the ones that are, are quite worthy of being called 'literary classics.'
In a surprisingly short span of time, I've also agreed to borrow Mia's ten most favorite Valentine Silhouette novels in the whole world, without thinking that I probably won't have time to read them all.
It's just - she loves those books so much! I can't resist just wanting to try them out!
Too soon, Mia's mother arrives to pick her up. Mia and I are still talking, but I can already hear her and Kuya Stephen talking outside the emergency room.
"Talking" might not be a good word for what they're doing. Their voices aren't raised, but it's probably safe to assume that they aren't making friends out there.
"Nearly ran her over! By nearly I'm sure you mean you had every intent of running her over if only the chance presented itself!"
"Look, I'm not saying we wanted to run her over, okay? That's just like saying she wanted to walk out into the road and nearly get hit by my bike."
"Are you being sarcastic? Are you sassing me?!?"
"Nope. Not being sarcastic at all, MA'AM."
"Oh you are SO going to court for this, young man..."
Uh... yeah, good old Kuya Stephen and his flawless manners.
But just as I was stepping out, Mia's mother came flying into the room. She's a small, pretty, fine-boned woman with glasses even thicker and twice more intimidating than Mia's. She's wearing a VERY nice suit, which makes one think she's a government official or a businesswoman of some sort. Though for all her glamour, the poor woman looks stressed out.
So does Kuya Stephen, close at her heels, looking crabbier than usual.
She sits on the bed and takes Mia's face, showers it with kisses.
"Mia, baby, Mama is so sorry," is her greeting. "Your Papa and I both got a phone call from the hospital. We talked and I said I was in the middle of a hearing, so I asked him to go on ahead. But your Papa was just getting ready for surgery too, so... I thought he agreed that he wasn't going into surgery, because he was going to pick you up!"
Kuya Stephen and I stood dumbstruck near the foot of the bed. A lawyer for a mother, and a doctor for a father?
Have I used the word "royalty" before? I'd like to use it again now, please, as it suddenly seems more appropriate...
"So I went ahead with my closing, and then your Papa called asking about you, and I said I wasn't there yet, and he said 'I thought you were going on ahead!' And then I - "
"Mama," Mia weakly interrupts, "Mama, it's okay. I'm fine. Can we go home now?"
Mia's mother takes a few deep breaths. She straightens up and pushes some loose strands of brown hair away from her face, back up into the tight bun on the back of her head.
"Yes, yes of course we can! The doctor says you just need to keep that bandage on for a few days, but you'll be fine." She touches the patch of gauze on Mia's forehead gently, gentle enough to keep Mia from flinching. Then, in a complete turnaround, she shoots a glare at Kuya Stephen. "No thanks to these two young people here! Harassing a defenseless little girl -"
" 'HARASSING'?? " Kuya Stephen yells. I put a hand on his arm, but that does nothing to calm him down. "Okay, wait, that's not so bad - 'LITTLE GIRL'?! Ma'am, trust me, I took her here in my arms, she's just about as little as a sack of - "
"Kuya," I warn him. At least that makes him shut up.
I look over at the bed and notice that Mia Martin is blushing fiercely. She must not be used to all this excitement. Like me, she must be wishing this would all stop before it erupts into something messy, costly and long-drawn.
Mia's mother tosses her chin up. "Well, at least my daughter is safe. I have to thank you for bringing her to the hospital, I think that's enough evidence to prove that you meant her no harm."
Well, that's a little better. Kuya Stephen visibly relaxes.
"And you stayed with her until I came, even if at this hour, your parents must be worried sick about you two. So... " She stands up, straight up, and walks over to Kuya Stephen, her expensive heels making thick TACK-TACK sounds on the antiseptic floor. "You have my gratitude," she says, and extends her hand.
Kuya Stephen takes and shakes her hand. I notice that there's no real warmth in that exchange. Kuya Stephen is still frowning, and Mia's mother isn't smiling at all.
"I don't have much cash with me right now," she goes on to tell us, "but if you will give me your names, cell phone numbers and addresses, my family will send you proper thank-you gifts in the morning."
"No thanks, ma'am," Kuya Stephen answers, before she can say any more. There's no "bite" in that "ma'am" this time. "Come on, Nikki."
Kuya Stephen strides out. With a hurried goodbye to Mia and her mother (there wasn't even time for a "Nice to meet you") I stride out after him. I finally catch up as he's prepping his motorcycle.
At the small parking lot just outside the hospital, I spot Mia's mother's car. It's shiny and stylish, and it's too bad I don't know a lot about cars. All I know is that it looks expensive and very well-maintained. Kuya Stephen's dirty old motorbike can't even park beside it without emphasizing how old and dirty it really is!
"Kuya, let's not be rude to them," I said to him. "They're offering us a thank-you gift, we can't just say 'no, thanks' and walk away!"
"Well, we just did," Kuya Stephen says. "If they really want to, they'll seek us out. But right now, I don't want to take anything from that family."
"Why not? It's not like they accused you of hitting Mia on purpose." I get on my regular seat on the bike, behind him.
Kuya doesn't answer. All I really know from his silence is, he's eager to get out of there.
The next day is supposed to be an ordinary, quiet day at school. I'm supposed to go in, study hard, pine after Dylan Aiba, study even harder, hang out with my friends, then go home.
High school life is supposed to be this simple... right?
Then, just as I'm moving some implements from our homeroom to the science lab, and my arms are overflowing with charts, disconnected light switches, plugs, cables and wires, I hear a scream echoing down the hallway - definitely not a scream that follows my regular routine.
"NIKKIIIII~!!"
I don't actually drop all the implements I'm carrying.
They just kind of jump out of my grasp all by themselves.
I'm just glad none of it is breakable...
"NIKKIIIII NIKKI NIKKI!" the scream continues. Something small with HUGE glasses and long brown hair comes bouncing up to me.
And ignores all the non-breakable stuff lying about my feet and engulfs me in a great big...
GLOMP.
(Yes, I believe that's the word for it.)
I laugh nervously - people are starting to stare, okay - and pull away, so I can keep Mia Martin at arm's length. I prepare to ask her what's up, but she speaks ahead of me.
"I was waiting for you to come find me," she reports. "When you didn't, I had to come and find you. And here you are!"
"Here I am," I chuckle. "I'm really sorry! I didn't think of seeking you out because - well, I thought you would be resting."
She still has that patch of gauze on her forehead. Right now it's slipping a little so it's almost covering her left eyebrow. But she doesn't seem to mind. In fact I think she's forgotten that it's even there.
"Listen," I start to say, "about last night. My friend and I..."
"Oh, you must let us thank you," Mia Martin says, taking both my hands in hers. "You and your friend were so good to me. What's his name, by the way? I never got to asking, did I?" She laughs. Again, the sound of tiny, distant bells. "I must've been really out of it last night. How careless of me!"
I'm about to refuse some more - politely, as is only proper. Ever heard that you should always refuse three times, as a common courtesy? - but she's already whipping out her cell phone, and asking, "What's your cell phone number again? I don't have your last name either. You never told me, right? How do you spell it?"
And just to keep the flow of the conversation, I just answer her questions as quickly as I can. That is, before she can think of any more to ask.
"Oh dear," Mia says while I'm talking. She casts a small frown down at her cell phone, "Is it 2 PM already? I have to run to tutorials! I'm getting coached for the regional science quiz bee, you see. And Ms. Magalang hates it when her 'kids' are late!" She claps the palms of her little hands together and brings them up to her face. "Sorry! I'm really sorry! Let's continue this talk later, okay?"
Uhm. "Okay! Er... you better go on ahead, then! I've just got to..." I trail off and break eye contact so I can bend down and start picking up the switches, cables, charts, etc scattered on the floor.
Mia takes one look at the scattered lab inventory and pouts. It seems it's with a heavy heart that she helps me pick up the implements, and I'm not exactly sure why.
I learn in a minute, though.
"Here, I'll help you carry these," she offers, as she refuses to hand over a particularly lightweight bunch of charts. "We girls have to stick together when we do the tough jobs, right? Because boys don't help girls in need, even when they're right in front of them!"
Aah, I finally get it. She's been hoping that a bunch of freshmen who've been hanging out near us would come over and help me pick up the stuff. When none of them approached, she got upet.
I thought at first that it was just the nice, quiet kind of upset... but suddenly, charts in her arms, she turns to the boys she's been eyeing. "Aren't you ashamed of yourselves," she snaps at them, in her cute high-pitched voice. "Don't you want to be knights in shining armor when you grow up?"
The boys stare at her dumbly while she walks off in a huff. I lag behind, and I stay just in time to hear them snickering - not in a malicious way, but in a completely understandable "What was that all about?!" kind of way.
Mia insists on accompanying me to the science lab, which is close to the science teachers' records room anyway, where the terrible Ms. Magalang is waiting. She helps bring half of the stuff she'd knocked out of my arms when she crashed into me... and all that aside, I'm actually grateful for the help.
Yes, I think it's safe to say that Mia Martin and I have become friends.
...although I wish I could be sure that that's a good thing.
to be continued