MEMORY: Year-end (Part 1)

“Hm, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It was what Yana said when I finally opened up about the mysterious bookmark. The end of term was just around the corner and she hadn’t mentioned anything about it ever since.

Yana was attending practice for the Recognition rites so I couldn’t prod her more about it. I looked at her one last time, intently waiting for her to spill it out but I couldn’t make much out of her neutral expression. She didn’t seem to care about it, though I couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, and it certainly frustrated me not knowing what she was thinking.

Yana was the top student of our batch this school year. As for myself, I didn’t make it to the Top 10 (not that I had been expecting it). But it was still surprising to have moved five places higher from my 1st Quarter standing (considering how competitive our classmates were). It was already an achievement for me and I was sure my parents would be proud.

The day before the Recognition ceremony was the last day of our being freshmen, and so the class held a year-end party in the room. Some of my classmates were busy preparing food and drinks while the others deliver gifts to the teachers and to their friends. They were also collecting phone numbers and emails to get in touch with each other during summer break.

Everyone was doing something while waiting for the food to be ready and I, not having much to do, decided to go outside.

My year as a freshman was coming to an end but there was still one place in the high school building that I hadn’t seen yet. Well first off, it had been locked up for the past years, and rumors said it was because of a ghost causing accidents there. This year though, the admins decided to renovate it and I heard it was almost finished by now. It made me wonder if any of the students had already gone up there.

The newly renovated Roof Deck surely wasn’t the best place to hang out or to kill time, but leaving me no other place to go (the library was reasonably closed), it was surely worth a try.

I reached the top floor, only to be welcomed by dusty air and a lingering scent of paint. A few buckets, wires, used construction supplies, and cleaning materials were piled next to a big sliding door patched with newspapers.

A huge metal door stood slightly ajar at the far right corner and there was no sign of a soul except mine. I pushed myself inside and squinted at the sudden brightness, feeling the tightness and stillness of the air.

The Roof Deck had a large tiled floor, white painted walls, and a pretty high roofing of clear polycarbonate material revealing the sky above. Almost all of the windows were assembled to the frames, except for one at the opposite side, leaving a large hole on the wall.

At first glance, one could immediately imagine a party being held in this venue. But not with this heat. The sun was pretty high with occasional clouds casting shade, but it wasn’t the sunlight that enticed my skin to break sweat, but the eeriness of the place.

I walked toward the empty window frame and looked out to see the school garden below. Further from it was a large empty lot, barricaded walls, and a bunch of houses and trees on the next street.

A sudden gust of wind cooled my skin and I wondered if there was anyone I could recognize four floors below, and if someone could see me up here. It was quiet—actually too quiet that it made me nervous—not because of the ghost rumors, but because no one probably knew I was here. If something happens, no one would probably care.

It was just for a moment, and it took me a sharp intake of breath before I recognized a sensation that spread to the whole of my back. I felt a familiar weight as two lean arms wrapped around my waist; hot breath coming contact with the fabric of my blouse to my skin.

“Don’t jump.” The voice was unusually small, but I assumed it was caused by the cheek pressed against my back.

I didn’t dare move a muscle, thinking all of this would disappear the moment I do.

I let myself breathe instead, deeply… slowly... And reached for the hands clasped around my belly; desiring nothing but this warmth.