TBBM XIV. It All Started With A Homework

"Dear Saint," I whispered in tears.

I found myself calling in to the Saint whenever life pushed me into a corner. I remembered when I was twelve---when my father left us, I watched my mother cried intermittent tears throughout the day. I often found myself at the gates of the church as I wanted to pray for her. But I couldn't find the courage enough to get myself inside.

When one was young and different, to listen to other's opinions was inevitable.

I did my fair share of listening---but it did me bad, more than good. They said that God, He didn't delight on kids like me---kids who wanted to change their bodies. If He didn't delight on me, how was I assured that He would hear my prayers? That played in loops in my head those days. But somehow, I still wanted to try and pray... for my mother.

One day, an elderly lady, selling jasmine garlands approached me.

"If you can't pray directly to the Lord, then ask one of the Saints to relay your message," she said, winking.

I never got to thank her. She disappeared on to the sea of people as the mass ended.

I'd been calling on to the Saint, ever since.

+++

The sun rose brightly on the horizon. It was the first sunshine since the storm. I sat up on my bed, looking at my tear-stained pillow case. My pillows mutely witnessed the many times that I cried in this life--even those really low days when I prayed for death.

Did God hate me for those days? I wished He didn't.

I decided to make today count so I left home early.

I'd have to see my hormone doctor-slash-puberty counselor this weekend and based on the general weakness I'd been feeling on my back and knees, I was sure she'd be urging me stop the blockers altogether---or, she just would not inject me any, at all. All these oncoming changes made me feel uncomfortable. But I understood that I couldn't delay much in this stage any further. Like a butterfly, I'd stayed too long in my cocoon that its surface was already deteriorating. I couldn't hide anymore.

I arrived early in the first period, Earth Science. About half of my classmates were already there. Strangely, they were all glued to their graphing papers while I took my time and sat behind Roma Gonzales.

"You're done?" she greeted me, filing her graphing paper under her books.

"D-done?" I asked back, wondering.

"Earth Sci professor asked us to track the 12-hour path of the storm... since Saturday?"

"S-saturday?" I reckoned I was all consumed by the thought of vengeance last Saturday.

"You look like you'd be in trouble," she handed me a graphing sheet, smilingly. She was rich and kind and polite.

"Oh, no!" I forgot to do the assignment.

I ran as fast as I could to the ERS---our university computer room adjacent to the library. That place was a great help, especially to scholars like me who couldn't afford a laptop at home. Sometimes, when we did research papers, I almost lived in there.

My eyes were set to my destination. I had to be there before the thirtieth minute because past that, I'd have to wait until the next hour to enter.

I saw James, along the way. We weren't classmates today and I wished we were. Had we been classmates, I wouldn't have forgotten to do it. We would've done it together.

"Jap-jap!" James called, raising his right hand. He looked so good in the morning. I wanted to run towards him, but I really couldn't.

"Jim-jim! I love you! Talk later---" I called back, to the top of my lungs.

W-wait. What? Did I just tell him that I love him? What was I thinking? I slapped my head.

I was running as fast as I could just to get to the ERS. And I arrived...

Six thirty-five.

"No!" I sighed. I could no longer get in. I'd have to wait until 7AM. That, being the actual start time of my class. "I'm dead."

At that point of desperation, I thought I'd borrow Roma's phone so I could note the details from the Weather Bureau, then, I'd manually draw it, instead of printing.

I ran and ran.

My mind had been busy over other things the past few days but situations like these reminded me of how potent the curse of my birthmark still was.

"I'm so dead. I can't miss this homework," I sighed as I ran towards the curve of the parking lot. But---

"Noooooo!" I tripped and fell. A silver car was speeding in to park. My knees hurt, I couldn't budge.

The car still moved... to my direction. I didn't really plan on dying like this. At least not until I and James built our family and were both weathered down by age. My heart raced. I couldn't do anything but bury my face between my knees.

One... two... three...

I anticipated that car would hit me after three. Did it have to hit me in slow motion? I didn't want to look up. I didn't want to die with my face marred by one's bumper. Actually, if I had to die, I wished to at least die an honorable death---much too far from this one.

"What act is the ugly putting on, this time?" I heard that familiar voice, again, calling me 'ugly'.

"B-boasty?" I scorned. He sat there, wearing shades, at the hood of his car. That silver car, it glistened in the early morning light. He looked so cool. "Edward Cullen..."

"What?" he chuckled. "You think you're Bella now? Bella Hicks."

I rolled my eyes. He was being annoying again.

"What are you doing running around this early? Are you being chased again by SWAFO?" he held his hand out as I was trying to stand. "Your hair smells bloody awful again."

"None of your---" I ignored his hand. "Hey, what time is it?"

"Ten to seven."

"Do you have the homework?"

"Done and ready," he opened his case and displayed the printed file to my face.

"Boasty," I grumbled. "It's your fault. I forgot about it. I tried to visit the ERS but I couldn't log in anymore---"

"Why's it my fault that you don't do well in school?" he was back to his lofty sense of character.

"I do well," I couldn't stop arguing with him. "Because I kept thinking of a boy crying in my arms, calling me Stephie!"

"C-cry?"

"Bye," I meant to run back to the room but he grabbed me in the arm again. "Tell me more about it."

"Let me go. I have yet to do the homework."

"You can copy mine," he offered, casually.

"I don't copy," I resisted. "Let me go."

"Nope," he pinned me against the car door. "I'll help you. I got a lappy and a mobile printer."

"Really?" I wasn't planning on getting any help from him but I was desperate.

"Stop running around, displaying your ugly face all over school, okay?" he chuckled again.

"I-we're running late, you know?"

He lifted his trunk open and sat me there. He also logged in to his laptop and handed it over to me--- well, almost.

"Thank---"

"In one condition," he smiled devilishly.

"What again?"

"I mean, if you don't like..." he folded it back.

"I want," I begged him. "I... Really. I'll take your condition. Please."

"Tell you on lunch," he gave his laptop to me fully. "Google the location and date. If you found the same details as mine, I allow you to just copy mine."

"Allow you to just copy mine," I mimicked him. He was so full of air. "If I found the same answers as you, it wasn't technically copying."

"Yeah. But I found it first."

"Boasty!"

"Why do you smell like that again, by the way?"

"Is it that gross?" I asked him without looking as I hurried over to the weather site. "My mother thought it'd help my symptoms."

"Stop," he stretched his left arm out, as if blocking me.

"What?"

"What they're injecting you," suddenly, his stare was serious, brooding. "Stop it already."

That version of Red scared me more than the typical belittling kind.

"I'll be done in three," I changed the subject. We weren't really that close so I didn't feel like talking to him about it. But it felt really warm---almost as if he cared about me.

He turned his printer on and researched with me using his phone.

"These are the altitudes and coordinates three days ago at 6:30 AM LST," he hesitated but he eventually showed me his phone. "You got that?"

"Y-yeah. Thanks," I wondered what made him become nice again. I shouldn't be thinking about him now.

"This one's 6:30 PM on the same date. Then 12 hours after. Then 6:30 PM. Then the last day. You follow?"

"Y-yes. You're right."

"What did I tell you?" he ran his fingers to his nose bridge. "Print it."

"But I don't know how to operate---"

"Load the paper to the tray and click print---do I have to do that, too?" he scolded me. Clearly, kindness had an expiry when it came to him.

"Alright. Alright," I reached for the paper but it was stuck on the corner out back. I couldn't really stretch out without my wounds tingling. "Ouch!"

"You're impossible," he reached for the paper instead and loaded it on the machine. He grabbed the laptop from me and did the printing. "There you go."

"Got it. Thanks. Let's go!"

He almost closed his trunk but he hesitated, as if something was not right.

"Sit down again," he commanded.

"Huh? We're late. I'll clean up your trunk later," I offered as he went on to get something from the driver's seat.

I obliged, eventually. I knew he'd be mad again if I became difficult to deal with.

"How gross," he cleaned up my wounds with wipes and put plasters on them. "You utterly have no regard for cleanliness."

I watched him nurse my wounds, masterfully; as if he'd been trained for it. This part of him confused me. How could he be nice and disagreeable at the same time? It was so easy to argue with him, but it felt awkwardly difficult to thank him every few times he did me good.

We arrived twenty minutes after seven.

#Fail

"Good morning!" the professor beamed at us as we entered the room. They were doing a quiz.

"Good morning, Professor," Red went in smoothly like he always did.

"You two are late," I closed my eyes. She was a strict one. "You couldn't take the quiz, unfortunately."

"We can start on the current item, can't we?" Red suggested in his usual cool tone.

The professor shook her head, not so convinced.

I quietly followed Red at the back seat as the rest of the class waited for the professor to state the next question.

Betty was there, too. She came in late but much earlier than us. She should've taken long in the powder room again.

The professor went on with the items one after the other. I watched Red's pissed off expressions getting worse. He was clinching his fist, while doing his best to look unaffected. I didn't really want him to be upset. I somehow wanted him to remain nice. It felt good whenever he was nice.

I couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry, Miss," I apologised, as soon as I reached the professor's table. "This was my fault. Boast---I mean Red, was not late to begin with. He just... he helped me do my homework that's why he's late. I hope you'd let him take this test."

I had no idea how the professor would react to it. I did it, anyway. Ma-ho was probably right when she said that I had no chance in love. But I'd like to believe that at least I had the chance to make right of other things---this one included. No matter how contemptuous Red could be, still, I didn't like him to suffer failure because of me.

"H-Hickey---"