“It already is, Mom,” I assure her. Yes, I’m very worried about Claudine. If something bad happened to her because of the gayuma, it’s on me. And yes, I think it’s really unfair that there are very few people who live with so much privilege while many do not. But I’m happy I have such a loving family. Knowing this makes me feel better, at least for bit.
The clock above the whiteboard reads three fifteen p.m.
Bible study has begun, but Claudine still isn’t here. She’s always on time.
Did something happen to her?
“Today we’re having a special treat!” Mr. Bradbury announces as he pulls down the projector screen. “We’re watching a cartoon of David and Goliath.”
While our volunteer catechist discusses 1 Samuel 17, the story of David and Goliath, my imagination takes over.
I picture myself being the small David, taking on Goliath-Claudine, who makes the lives of Bible Study Town’s residents miserable. But instead of going to battle, David-Jolina defeats the giant with smarts and a handful of gayuma-ed yema balls.
The animation ends with a slain Goliath and a victorious David. Then the screen fades to black.
Yikes.
Did I make Claudine sick? I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just wanted Claudine to become a better person. Did I put anything bad in there?
Bad milk, maybe? But I was so sure about the condensed milk I took from the pantry. We cook so much for the canteen that food never stays around long enough to expire.
What if it was the potion itself? There was black smoke that smelled bad before it turned pink. Was that an omen? Or was something bad in the gayuma? Maybe I shouldn’t have tried making such an advanced brew. I can’t even make the beginner’s brew right.
Then I remember the warning in the potion recipe, follow the standard precautions.
My stomach drops. I’m 100 percent sure I did all the protective prayers on the magic palayok before I began brewing the gayuma. Was there anything else I needed to do aside from the protective spells, the prayer, and being clear about my intentions?
One of the twins, Judy, passes me a coloring page of a cartoon David and Goliath. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, dumping some crayons on my table. The twins don’t frequently sit near me, so if they’re noticing how antsy I am, I must be that obvious. I sigh. Might as well finish this coloring page.
“Magandang hapon, friends!”
I look up from my work and find Claudine wishing her friends a good afternoon. I’m pretty sure I’m not included in that greeting—I’m usually not. But it’s such a relief to see her. Best of all, she doesn’t look sick or anything bad like that.
“Well, well, well!” Mr. Bradbury dusts off his fingers and tosses Claudine a yema ball from the bowl on his desk. “I thought we weren’t seeing you today, Miss Dimasalang.”
“Sorry, Mr. Bradbury.” Claudine flashes the American catechist a grin. “I woke up late! I couldn’t do this very important thing until last night, when we arrived from the mainland. Mom and I bought so much stuff for the party! Just let me know what I need to do and I will get on it.” She doesn’t even look at me.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Oh well. Apparently, I made another mess of a potion with the gayuma—just like the other potions I’ve tried to brew with Lolo Sebyo. Claudine is still her typical friendly-to-everyone-but-Jolina self.
Well, that is, until she plops into the seat next to me instead of her front-row middle seat.
I don’t know what to think.
“Your seat’s up there,” I say carefully. I don’t want to say anything that will set her off—Mr. Bradbury might throw us out of Bible study if we squabble.
“Nope. I’m sitting here. Mr. Bradbury doesn’t have any rules about where we can sit, remember?” Claudine pops the yema ball into her mouth, placing her coloring page and crayons on the table.
“Yeah, but that’s not where you usually sit.” I frown. I always take the desk in the rightmost corner at the back of the room. Other kids usually sit around me, but having a table beside the back door makes me feel less enclosed. I get fresh air, and peace and quiet away from Claudine.
But now Claudine is sitting right beside me. I feel like I have no means of escape, even with the back door wide open. This is so weird. A thought gnaws at me. Is it possible that the gayuma actually worked?
“This is my new usual seat now.” Claudine waves her hand, flipping her hair casually. I notice she has orange-and-gold highlights today. She turns her chair to face me. “So, Jolina. You’re coming to my birthday, right? I’m not really good at using computers, so I had to stay up all night making your special invite!”
Claudine brandishes a white envelope and drops it on my table. I stare at it, waiting for it to jump or explode. “Is this some kind of a joke?”
“Nope. Definitely not a joke,” Claudine chirps. She pushes the envelope closer to me. “Come on. Open it!”
I open the envelope with care, bringing out the invite as slowly as I would slice a slab of pork into bacon strips. Part of me expects a rubber snake to fall out of the envelope, or maybe something a lot grosser. I brace myself to see a mean drawing of me pop out. But to my surprise, it is what she said—an invitation to a party. Claudine’s birthday party.
The invitation is full of pink glitter and hearts and stars. There’s even a rainbow unicorn printed in the middle. Above the tacky mythical horse are words loud and clear:
Below the unicorn are the date and time, as well as the Dimasalangs’ home address. On a separate card, Claudine printed:
I blink once. Then twice. The words are still there. Claudine invited me to her birthday party, after publicly telling everyone she wasn’t.
I can’t believe the gayuma actually worked!
“This is very nice.” I honestly don’t know what else to say. “Um … thanks?”
Claudine beams.
“Kidlat is also invited?” I was just hoping to get an invite to her party. I didn’t expect my dog would get one too. You know, I’m starting to like this gayuma thing.
“Oh, is that the cutie’s name? Kidlat, as in ‘lightning.’ So very Filipino,” Claudine says, nodding. “Of course he’s invited. It’s written there. I’d usually not invite a dog, but Kidlat seems to be very well behaved.”
“He is. He’s very special.” I give her a smile. Anyone who compliments my dog deserves a smile, even a gayuma-ed mean girl like Claudine. I read the invitation again. “What’s a BFFAE?”
“Duh. Bee-ef-fay. BFFAE.” Claudine rolls her eyes. She puts the last crayon, the yellow one, in place. “Best Friend Forever And Ever.”
Oh wow. No one has ever called me their best friend before. I know it’s not real, but it still feels really good.
“So, you’re coming, right?” Claudine reaches over my desk and arranges my crayons in rainbow order. “I can ask Sunshine to let you go, if you’re worried about your mother. I just can’t not have you there. My birthday won’t be complete without you!”
Okay. This is starting to get weird.
“Everything all right there, kids?” Mr. Bradbury calls from his desk.
“Yes, Mr. Bradbury,” Claudine and I answer at the same time.
Claudine moves back to her desk and pretends to color David and Goliath. She inches her chair closer to me, so close that I can smell her cotton candy–scented body spray. I’ve always wanted to buy one of those, but the only brand carrying that scent is too expensive for us.
“Well?” Claudine prompts under her breath. “Will you come?”
Claudine seems to really, really want me there. It’s so weird. I feel like I’ve entered a totally different dimension where Mean Claudine is actually my friend.
But this isn’t real, a voice in the back of my mind reminds me.
I shouldn’t get used to this. It’s only temporary. Soon, Claudine will be back to her old mean self. I feel bad (just a teeny-weeny bit) knowing that she probably has no idea why she’s being so
nice to me. But every time I remember Claudine constantly provoking and embarrassing me in front of everyone, I get a reassuring feeling that she totally deserves this.
“Of course I’ll go.” I give my new BFFAE a smile. “I wouldn’t miss your birthday for anything.”
If my phone vibrates one more time, I’m going to chuck it out the classroom window. Claudine has been texting me nonstop.
The BFF thing is weird enough, but this incessant messaging is a whole new level of weirdness. I make a mental note to read up more on the potency of gayuma. Maybe I put too much in the candy, making Claudine so annoyingly clingy.
I would turn off my phone if not for Mom and Dad’s rule never to do so. They want to be able to contact me easily in case of an emergency.
But at the rate Claudine is texting? My cheap second-hand phone is going to give up and shut itself down—and I won’t blame it for doing so.
Ringgggggg!!!
The dismissal bell finally chimes, and I say goodbye to Marvin and Angelou and my other classmates. Thankfully, Marvin and Angelou wave back. My other classmates just nod or smile shyly at me.
I guess I still have my dayo vibe.
“Ack!”
My phone buzzes in my pocket again. It sends a jolt down my thigh, and I almost trip on the school’s front steps. I groan as I bring the phone out of my school uniform’s skirt pocket. “What now?”
I tap the screen. But instead of Claudine’s name, I see Mom’s. Phew!
Hi, honey Bee! Ms. Dimasalang’s daughter is at the resort today. She asked about you. I gave her your number, but I told her you can’t reply while in school. See you later. Love you lots!
Claudine obviously didn’t take my mom’s note seriously.
I let out an irritated sigh, finding Claudine’s name and tapping it to load her message thread.
Oh wow. What a message thread!
Claudine asks me how I am, she tells me what she’s doing, who she’s doing what she’s doing with—it’s like she’s sending me a text message every time she breathes in and sends another one whenever she breathes out. She sends a different text message for every single sentence. I guess that’s how people text when they’re not using a prepaid number, unlike me and my parents. They don’t have to worry about running out of prepaid credits and having to top up.
I go through the long thread of Claudine’s one-sentence messages. It’s like getting a blow-by-blow account of her entire day.
My fingers freeze at the last message:
I can’t wait to see you!
Can’t wait— What? I scroll up and stare at the message right above it:
I’m on my way. We’re hanging out today, BFFAE!
My eyes widen. Claudine can’t be serious, can she?
I elbow my way through the throngs of kids going out of the school gates, my eyes on the road. There are cars, jeepneys, and tricycles passing by. Some of them stop by the school, but none of them stop in front of me.
My heart sinks. Claudine was just messing with me. Even under the gayuma’s magic, she’s still messing with me.
I make my way to the waiting area, where kids are falling in line for tricycles. But before I can reach it, a white SUV pulls up beside me. Its window slides down, and out pops Claudine’s face.
“Huy! San ka pupunta?” Claudine asks where I’m going. “I told you I’d pick you up!”
“Um …” I can’t tell her that I’m finding it hard to believe she would really go out of her way to see me without going into the gayuma thing, so I just keep my mouth shut.
“Why didn’t you text me back?” Claudine pouts. “Sunshine said you’d reply.”
I wince at Claudine’s calling of my mom by her first name. Even gayuma-ed, Claudine is still disrespectful.
“I was in class. You know that we’re not allowed to use our phones in class,” I say, keeping my tone even. “I was going to say I can’t go. My dog … he’s waiting for me at Nanay Dadang’s. We always walk home together. And I haven’t asked my parents for permission. I can’t just leave.”
“We’ll pick up your dog.” Claudine says this like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She opens the door. “Get in. We’re hanging out. I already asked Sunshine if you could come, and she said yes.”
“She didn’t say—”
Buzzzzzttt! My phone vibrates again with another message from Mom.
So nice of Claudine to surprise you. Be home by five—you still have school tomorrow. Have fun at the port! Love you loads.
I peek inside Claudine’s family’s car. I can smell the leather of the pristine white seats. Never mind the fact that Claudine is surprisingly okay with having my muddy dog join us there. I’m not comfortable with the idea that Claudine is making plans for me without even considering whether I want to.
My irritation worsens as I think about Mom more. Did Claudine order my mother to let us hang out on a school day? It’s so unlike Mom to say yes to something like that.
“Stop calling my mom by her first name,” I say in a firm, even way. I feel the gayuma’s magic flow with my words. “I don’t like it when you do.”
“Okay.” Claudine blinks. Then she offers her hand. “Well? Are you coming?”
I look at my classmates in the long line for tricycles that will take them home. I look at other students walking in groups by the side of the road. I look at Claudine, alone in the back seat, comfortable in her roomy, air-conditioned SUV.
Hang out? Sure. We’ll hang out. But not in the way she expects.
I take Claudine’s hand and climb up into the SUV beside her.
After picking up Kidlat at Nanay Dadang’s, Claudine’s driver drops us off at the public market beside the Isla Pag-Ibig port. A weird combination of smells whiff under my nose—tricycle exhaust, frying fish balls, and salt water from the sea.
I enjoy going to the palengke, the marketplace, whenever I run errands for Lolo, or when I’m accompanying Dad to buy ingredients for the eatery. There are three main buildings—the wet, seafood, and dry markets. The wet market is where vendors sell pork, beef, poultry, and even goat or carabao meat. The seafood market, as the name implies, is where the seafood and fish vendors are. The vendors in the dry market aren’t just selling fruits, veggies, and condiments though. They also offer a wide variety of “dry” products such as random kitchenware and even everyday clothes.
Like this pretty blue-and-green flower blouse that catches my eye.
“Bili na.” The vendor encourages me to buy.
I look at the cardboard label hanging over the blouses. Two hundred pesos. It’s too expensive for me, but maybe not for Claudine.
An idea pops into my head.
“What do you think?” I say, holding the blouse over my chest.
WOOF! Kidlat runs around in a circle, excited.
“I suppose that means I’ll look good in it,” I say, grinning.
“He’s right.” Claudine comes up to me, straightening the blouse’s sleeve. “You know, I didn’t think much of it on the hanger, but it actually looks good on you.”
“I know.” I sigh dramatically, putting the blouse back on the rack. I tell the vendor I’ll just get it next time, as my money isn’t enough. “Next time na lang po. Kulang pera ko eh.”
I peer at Claudine out of the corner of my eye while I do a mental chant: Buy it for me. Come on, Claudine. Offer to buy it for me.
I feel the magic of my command, the suggestion of my mentally spoken words making its way to Claudine. Let’s see how badly she wants to be my BFF.
“I’ll buy it for you,” she says, taking the blouse off the rack again. “If you really want it, that is.”
“Really?” Wow.
“Ate, we’ll get the blouse po,” Claudine says, referring to the woman as “older sister” as she brings out a thousand-peso bill from her wallet. Funny how she can refer to strangers with an honorific while she calls my mom by her first name. “Sorry, wala po kong barya eh.”
Claudine doesn’t hav
e smaller bills. And to think the only time I ever owned a thousand-peso bill was when one of my richer godparents visited us in Marikina for Christmas. He wanted to make up three years’ worth of gifts to me with the bill.
I don’t know why, but this makes me even more irritated with Claudine. She has everything so easy.
Well, I’m not going to make this easy for her. I take the pretty blouse without remorse. This isn’t taking advantage—this is payback.
I look around the port for ideas. There’s a wedding reception going on at a restaurant near the docks. I figure that might be a good place to start having some fun. Well, that is, until I see the happy couple kiss and toast with their family and friends.
Scratch that. No need to ruin those people’s special day. Claudine’s the one who was awful to me, not them.
I just want Claudine to know how it felt to be embarrassed the same way she made me feel that day in Bible study when she told everyone she wouldn’t be inviting me.
But how?
My gaze falls on the seafood market across the street. Aha!
“Let’s go there,” I say. The seafood market stands near the docks, where fishermen from all over the island trade their freshest catch of the day. “Freshest” means that the fish and seafood came straight from the sea, and most often it’s still alive.
This should be interesting.
Claudine frowns. She points to the coffee shop beside the restaurant. “Don’t you want to have iced chocolate first? My treat. Tita Sunshine said you always get one when you’re here.”
That’s true. Iced chocolate is one of my favorite drinks. I always make sure to get a cup every time I’m buying stuff for Lolo or accompanying Dad. But now isn’t the time for iced chocolate. I have more important things to do … like give Claudine a taste of her own medicine.
I cross the street with Claudine in tow, weaving through the seafood market I’m so familiar with while keeping an eye on her. It’s pretty obvious she’s never explored this part of the docks—her eyes are darting from one stall to another. From the trays of prepared squid to the live shrimp swimming in multicolored plastic basins spread out on the stall tables, Claudine is drinking everything in. She wrinkles her nose now and then, as if trying to hide her disgust at the smell of fish and seafood peddled by fishermen.
Sugar and Spite Page 5
