I get my chance after Sunday school, when we’re both waiting for our moms to pick us up.
I act like I’m taking a photo of the church and landscape behind it. But Claudine is watching me.
“If you keep taking my picture, I’m going to have to charge you a talent fee,” Claudine quips. She pouts and sticks her hips in an exaggerated pose.
I hide my laugh in a snort. Claudine is actually funny when she’s not being a brat.
Then I remember what she did to me last Sunday.
“What do you know about talent fees? There aren’t any modeling agencies here,” I snap back. I feel guilty instantly. Even for me, that’s really mean.
Claudine’s face turns bright red. “My cousin is a model. She lives in Makati City. You’re not the only one who’s been to Manila, dayo.”
I open my mouth to apologize but close it immediately. I haven’t forgotten how she embarrassed me. She made me look like an unwanted piece of dry buko pie in front of everyone, with her non-invite.
“It’s not illegal to take photos of the church,” I say, while taking another photo of the church. I make sure Claudine’s face is sharp and clear in the foreground.
Claudine flips her hair. She’s sporting pink-and-green highlights today. “For you, everything should be illegal.”
Whatever. I take another photo just for good measure.
Easy-peasy.
The hardest part of making gayuma is actually brewing the gayuma itself. Once I have all the ingredients that can’t be found in Lolo’s lab, I need to be able to brew the love potion without my grandfather knowing. But like with getting Claudine’s photo, I just need to wait for the perfect moment.
I’m outside Lolo Sebyo’s lab with Kidlat in tow when my grandfather sees us.
Ugh. Kidlat’s whining is so loud, I’m surprised the whole neighborhood doesn’t see us. My dog has been acting weird every time I do anything related to this gayuma project.
“What are you up to, curious Bee?” he asks as he unlocks the lab.
“Nothing much.” I feel terrible lying to my grandfather, but it’s the only way I can make this gayuma plan work. “I’m done with my homework. Can I borrow some books on protective potions? I think I can do the spell version easily. But I want to read ahead on potions so I don’t blow up your house when we have our lesson this Saturday.”
It’s not totally a lie. I do want to read up on protective potions for our next lesson. Just not today.
“So studious, just like your father. Rainier would have been a great arbularyo had he not preferred the cooking over magic.” Lolo Sebyo waves me in. “Keep it up, my Bee. You’re going to be a great arbularyo one day. Perhaps even the best of our clan. You have your key?”
I nod.
“Good. Don’t forget to lock up. I need to buy some vegetables for your father.”
Lolo Sebyo’s so genuinely trusting of me that I feel another stab of guilt. Then I remember how mean Claudine was. Not just to me, but to everyone around her. I’m doing the right thing.
Time to brew this gayuma.
Herbs? Check.
Pink candle? Rose? Salt and sugar? Check.
Target’s image? I place the printed photo of Claudine on the table. Check.
Prayer? I load the notes application on my phone and pull up the prayer I scoured from Lolo Sebyo’s library. Check.
Positive Thinking and Persuasive Speech potions? All stored in little bottles on Lolo Sebyo’s shelf, waiting for me to take. Check.
An empty potion lab? Lolo Sebyo left the house to run some errands in town, while Dad is busy preparing the canteen’s lunch menu. Mom is still working at Claudine’s family resort.
Check, check, check.
I’m so ready.
Based on my research, the “delivery vessel” is the medium I’ll use to give Claudine the gayuma. So for this, I’m making yema balls. It’s a dessert traditionally based on egg yolks, milk, and sugar. I find the custard candy too sweet for my taste, especially when it has a hard caramel shell instead of the simple white sugar coating of my family’s recipe. But Claudine obviously loves it. Whenever I see Claudine at Nanay Dadang’s, she’s eating those candy balls one after the other.
As I open cans of condensed milk, I remember how Mom brought these candies for Claudine a few months back. It’s as if Mom needs to give that family “offerings” while she is at their mercy. Whether or not Mom gets promoted to a regular position depends on their whims. Her expertise in hospitality management means nothing if she doesn’t suck up to the Dimasalangs—Claudine included.
I may have magic, but Claudine’s family has money, the kind of power I need for my family’s life to be better. I feel so powerful and so powerless at the same time.
It’s so unfair.
Anyway, the cooking part is also the step in gayuma making that I find the easiest and the most fun. It’s like science. Not science science like physics and biology and stuff but science nonetheless.
You see, food reacts in different ways. Bad combinations result in gross food. A wrong temperature can burn a stew. Cause and effect—it’s all science.
Interesting how very similar science and magic are.
Kidlat’s barking interrupts my thoughts. He growls at the magic palayok in front of me.
“You don’t understand,” I tell my dog. “This isn’t just about me.”
Kidlat is a very smart dog. He’s just looking out for me. But I wish he’d be more supportive. And less judgy. I feel like every time I’m doing something gayuma related, Kidlat is judging me.
I probably shouldn’t be cooking without the adults around, but this is the only time I can make the love potion without them asking questions. I feel bad about it, but like I keep reminding myself—this isn’t just for me, but for everyone else.
I stir the condensed milk, egg yolks, and calamansi juice slowly over low heat with a wooden ladle. Traditionally, this candy is made with milk and sugar instead of condensed milk, but I find condensed milk richer in texture. The tangy juice of Philippine lime gives the candy a hint of zest. This recipe is what Lola Toyang taught me, and it’s also what Dad uses for the candies we sell at the canteen. It’s the same recipe that makes the best yema in the entire province of Isla Pag-Ibig.
The mixture thickens as it cooks. Like, really thickens. I add the gayuma ingredients except for the half drop of Persuasive Speech. The yema-gayuma mixture thickens even more, making it harder to stir.
But I like the grunt work. It helps me channel my anger at the mean things Claudine said.
Your mother works for my family.
You’re so rude.
You’ll always be a dayo.
You’re not invited.
With each phrase, I turn the ladle, channeling my anger in cooking.
Then, finally, I add the half drop of Persuasive Speech. The potion hisses, and Kidlat whines once more.
“Shh, Kidlat,” I shush him. “We’re almost done.”
I whisper my prayer and end it the way Lolo Sebyo concludes his chants. “Ang lahat ng ito ay alay namin sa inyo, Panginoon.”
The thick yema-gayuma mixture bubbles and emits black smoke.
“Oh no!” I hope I don’t make anything explode. Brewing isn’t my strongest talent, but I know I’ve followed the gayuma recipe to the letter. I must have overcooked the yema! It doesn’t smell like it’s burning though—more like rotten eggs and spoiled milk.
Gross.
As I turn off the stove, the smoke suddenly turns pink. The icky smell is gone, and it’s replaced by the pleasant scent of freshly picked roses.
“Perfect!”
I transfer the yema custard mixture to a butter-lined plate to cool. I glance at the clock and see that I still have three hours before we leave for church this afternoon. Three hours to scoop and roll the custard candies, dredge them in granulated white sugar, and wrap them individually for Claudine.
Let’s face it, I’m not really good at this. But the gayuma might jus
t work. And if it does, I’m going to have a new “friend” who “loves” me. It’s obviously not real—just a temporary fix like Lolo says. But this year has been so difficult for me and my family that it’s nice to be able to look forward to something for once.
At exactly three o’clock, Claudine arrives at Bible study.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s early today!” Claudine drawls. She really is a creature of habit.
I nibble my fingers nervously as Claudine takes a bunch of yema candies from the bowl on the catechist’s desk. I’m hoping she won’t notice that the wrappers of the gayuma-ed version are different from the rest of the candies.
It’s risky, putting the gayuma out in the open like that. But I can’t think of any other way Claudine can get these candies. It’s not like I can break into Nanay Dadang’s sari-sari store and replace her yema supply with mine.
Thankfully, the gayuma book said that it doesn’t matter if everyone eats the delivery vessel. Only Claudine will experience the potion’s effects.
“Are you going to my party?” Claudine stops in front of the desk of one of the Sunday-school boys. I’m not good with remembering people’s names, but it’s easy to remember Bobby’s because he’s always nice to me. Bobby is a chubby boy with a kind smile. He doesn’t talk much, so I try not to bother him. Claudine doesn’t believe in letting others be, apparently.
“Yes,” croaks Bobby. If I’m not mistaken, he’s actually scared of saying no. “I am.”
“You’re going to have so much fun at my party,” Claudine gushes. “I can’t even with the yummy food Mommy ordered!”
Bobby leans back into his chair like he doesn’t want Claudine too near. Still, he gives the taller girl a smile. “I can’t wait.”
Claudine goes on and on about her party to anyone who’ll listen. Some, like the twins Judy and Ann, seem genuinely interested. But the others are like Bobby—just scared to say anything that’ll anger Claudine.
The party does sound fun, like it’s really going to be the best party of the year, as Claudine brags. But I’m not invited—yet.
If all goes well, I might find myself having fish balls at that party after all.
“Don’t let it get to you.” Angela/Angelica slides into the desk beside me.
“Huh?”
“Claudine.” Marvin takes the table next to Angela/Angelica. He throws a wary glance in Claudine’s direction. “Angelou’s right. You should just avoid her when she gets like that.”
Oh. Angelou is Angela/Angelica’s name.
“Anyway, we’ve been around Claudine long enough to know that ayaw niya ng pagbabago,” Angelou continues. “She doesn’t like change. You being here is a huge change.”
Yep. Like I said, Claudine is a creature of habit. Still—
“Oh, hello there! Good afternoon, kiddos. How are you today?” Mr. Bradbury enters the room. He’s a tall, muscular Black man with broad shoulders, and he sports a military-style haircut. He has a goatee that I usually see on musicians. Mr. Bradbury gives Claudine a smile. “You’re keeping busy, I see.”
“Thanks, Mr. Bradbury. This is so delish. More than usual, actually.” Claudine crumples a pale blue wrapper. My pulse quickens. She’s eating the yema balls I made. “Mmm … This is really good.”
Mr. Bradbury takes a candy and pops it into his mouth. I hope to Papa Jesus the gayuma book is right and gayuma only affects the target. “You’re right. It is heavenly. It’s like the candies Nanay Toyang made. This is a Bagayan Food Haus yema ball!”
I hide my gasp with a fake cough. I’m doomed—
“I must have had some left from the pack I bought yesterday.” Mr. Bradbury shrugs. The panic in my face clears, and I heave a huge sigh of relief. The catechist smiles at me. “Your family’s yema balls really are the best.”
“Thanks, Mr. Bradbury,” I manage to croak with a smile. Thank goodness he doesn’t know how cold my hands are.
They have no idea I made the yema balls.
I’m a nervous wreck, but hearing them compliment my cooking gives me an odd feeling of pride.
Mr. Bradbury grins back at Claudine. He brings out a poster and flattens it on the board with one hand. From what I’ve heard, he lost half his left arm during a tour in Afghanistan. He was a soldier for the US Army until he found his calling to be a soldier of the Lord. His background reminds me of the story of Saint Ignatius of Loyola—Dad and Lolo Sebyo’s favorite saint. “Okay! Today we will discuss Genesis 3, the Fall of Man. Open your Bibles and let us discuss why there is evil in the world and why we need Jesus to save us. Claudine, can you hand me the tape—”
But Marvin is faster than Claudine. He’s by Mr. Bradbury’s side before he can even finish his sentence.
I roll my eyes. Talk about obvious.
I glance at Claudine. She’s rolling her eyes too.
We share a knowing smirk. It’s almost as if we’re actually friends even after the whole non-invite incident.
Then Claudine scowls. She takes the Bible from her bag, which was hanging on her backrest.
Never mind.
Sighing, I turn my Bible to the correct page.
The gayuma book said it can take up to a full day before the magic takes effect. I’m far from being a powerful arbularyo, so for now, all I can do is wait.
It’s now Tuesday, and I still haven’t heard anything from Claudine. The gayuma should have taken effect by now.
The book said that the maximum time for the gayuma to start taking effect is an entire day, depending on my skills as an arbularyo. But it also said gayuma magic is different. I can’t be such a horrible arbularyo that even gayuma magic rejects me, can I?
Since yesterday, Kidlat and I have been hanging out longer at Nanay Dadang’s sari-sari store, waiting for Claudine. But she’s nowhere to be found.
“Sa dalas mong tumambay dito, malapit na kitang igawa ng sarili mong bench,” Nanay Dadang quips, telling me that I hang out so much there, soon she’ll need to make me my own bench. “A young lady like yourself should spend more time with kids your age. You might end up an old spinster like my sister if you keep that up!”
Her sister, Nanay Concha, rolls her eyes. “Eh ano naman kung maging matandang dalaga sya? So what if she becomes an old spinster? You should be grateful I didn’t marry, or you’d have been left alone when your husband died!”
“Sus!” Nanay Dadang gives her a dismissive wave. “You would have brought your entire family to live with me. Your conscience would not be able to handle leaving your ate alone.”
“That’s what you think.” Nanay Concha winks as she hands me some ice candies.
“Sus!” Nanay Dadang rolls her eyes once more before she heads to the back of the store. It’s obvious that they’re just having fun.
Nanay Dadang can be rude sometimes (I honestly like her sister better and wish she were at the store more often), but I enjoy watching and listening to them squabble. It must be nice to have a sister.
“Don’t mind her. It is perfectly fine to be alone. Just do what makes you happy.”
“Thank you po, but I’m not alone,” I tell her, smiling. I lean down to stroke Kidlat’s soft fur.
“That is true.” Nanay Concha smiles back. She cocks her head to the side. “Still … are you waiting for somebody? You have that same look this fella gets when you’re not here yet.”
“Um … I’m not—” I bite my lower lip. Old people like to gossip in this town. I don’t want the entire island to know I’m looking for Claudine. I’m pretty certain I’ve been careful and said all the protective prayers, but I have to be sure nothing bad happened to her. After all, I did give her gayuma. “Have you seen Claudine?”
“The Dimasalang girl?”
I nod. Thank goodness Nanay Concha doesn’t ask too many questions.
To my disappointment, she shakes her head. “Not lately.”
“How about Nanay Dadang?” I ask as casually as possible, even when my heart is beating so fast, I can barely breathe.
> “No. I believe the last time the girl was here was Sunday morning.”
Sunday morning. My stomach turns. That was before I gave Claudine the gayuma. No one has seen her since she’s had it.
I hope she’ll eventually turn up. But Friday comes and goes—still no Claudine.
By Saturday morning, I’m a total mess. I make so many mistakes in my magic lesson with Lolo Sebyo that he ends our session early.
“Your mind is obviously elsewhere,” he says. “Why don’t you head out early? I still have to brew a potion for Tonio’s son. Poor child must have run afoul with an angry engkanto.”
I tell Lolo making an anti-angry-engkanto potion sounds fun, but Lolo refuses to let me stay.
I try to help Dad in the eatery, but even there I’m too distracted. I almost add an entire pan of mashed boiled liver into a vat of macaroni salad. I could have seriously destroyed a perfectly good batch of macaroni salad. It’s a sin to ruin macaroni salad that way, not to mention really gross.
By Sunday afternoon, I’m a wreck. I’m convinced something did happen to Claudine. I didn’t want to bring Mom into this and give her unnecessary worry, but I have no choice. We’re getting ready for church and Bible study group when I ask Mom about Claudine.
“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Mom stops brushing my hair. “Ms. Dimasalang and her daughter rarely visit the resort. It’s usually Ms. Dimasalang’s partner who’s there.”
I frown. “But don’t they own the resort?”
“Yes, but other people run it for them.”
It must be nice, being rich. There are people who’ll do everything for you, including running your business. And my mother is one of those people who do things for them.
This leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Mom must read my expression, because she stops brushing my hair. “My sweet, darling honey Bee! Come here.”
My mother hugs me, and I hug her back.
“You carry the world on your shoulders, and you’re only twelve,” she murmurs into my hair. “Our life will get better, I promise you.”
Sugar and Spite Page 4
