Soon? Why can’t they promote Mom now?
But of course I can’t ask that, so I just thank her. “Salamat po.”
It’s better than nothing, I guess.
“Mic test. Test mic,” Tita Raven speaks to the microphone. She adjusts the volume and repeats the process until she’s satisfied. Tita Raven then hands the microphone to me, her hand poised on the keypad. “What song number?”
I take a step back. “I’m not singing. Claudine is.”
“What? No!” Claudine makes herself comfortable on the chair beside Kidlat. Still, she takes the microphone from me. “You sing.”
“Aw, come on. Sing for me, Claudine.” Without meaning to, I say this like a command. I feel the power of my magic as soon as the words fly out of my mouth.
Claudine’s eyes glass over for a few seconds. She blinks and shakes her head like she’s clearing it. “Okay.”
Instantly, guilt washes over me. I didn’t intend to command Claudine using the gayuma’s magic. But this is Claudine’s party. She should be in the limelight. Besides, she seems comfortable holding the microphone. This is definitely not the first time she’s used it. “If you don’t want to—”
“It’s okay.” Claudine stands up. “But you choose the song.”
I already went through the list while Tita Raven was testing the mic. “Song number seven-seven-twenty-one. ‘Let It Go’ by Idina Menzel.”
As the opening notes start booming from the videoke machine’s giant speakers, Angelou, Marvin, Bobby, Judy, and Ann take their seats at our table. Behind them, the clear windows show the sun falling to the horizon.
Claudine grins, and I grin back. I can’t believe that this is the same girl who embarrassed me in front of everyone just last week.
Let it go.
Yep. That’s the perfect song to end this perfect day.
For now.
Claudine is currently in Cebu with her mother, but I’m glad to be able to have some time off from being around her. There are things I want to sort out about Claudine, particularly my conflicting feelings about being friends with her for real.
All week since her birthday party, Claudine and I have been sending chat messages nonstop. She tells me about her day with her tutor, while I tell her about public school.
Homeschooling sounds pretty cool—her homework sounds really challenging but interesting. Claudine says she loves hearing about my day in public school too. She sent a bunch of laughing emojis and GIFs after I told her how the twins and Marvin fell all over themselves when they tried to catch a live chicken in agriculture class. I did fairly well with that one. After all, I get a lot of practice at home chasing after Lolo Sebyo’s chickens with Kidlat.
Saturday is potion lessons day with Lolo Sebyo. It’s always been the highlight of my week. Today, I just don’t feel like brewing anything. But I need to get my head back into brewing this Positive Thinking potion before my grandfather’s lab blows up.
“You have to concentrate, my Bee,” Lolo Sebyo says. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I think I hear a hint of frustration in his voice. “Potion making requires focus. You do not want to excite the potion too much. Now you add the positivity essence, just one drop and—”
I pour a third of the bottle into the potion before Lolo can finish his instruction. The green liquid turns cotton-candy pink in an instant.
“Carefully, Bee!” He tries to save the potion, but it’s too late. The essence has already bonded with the rest of the brew.
“Oh no!”
My failed, now-pink brew puffs up, doubling in size. It’s taken on the texture of whipped cream, increasing in volume by the second. Lolo Sebyo turns off the heat, but the pink foam has already covered the entire table, me, and Lolo Sebyo.
I wipe potion off my face. Of all my brewing mishaps, this is by far the messiest and the prettiest. Lolo Sebyo and I look like we swam in a sea of cotton candy. “So that’s what an ‘excited potion’ looks like.”
Lolo Sebyo heaves a long sigh, taking the rags from the cupboard. “Your mind is obviously elsewhere. We might as well call it a day. What is bothering you, child?”
“Nothing po.”
My grandpa raises an eyebrow. I’ve always wanted to do that. But whenever I try, both my brows shoot up my forehead instead of just one.
“Okay, Lolo.” I really can’t tell Lolo Sebyo the whole truth. “I was thinking about going out for a swim. I haven’t really explored the island yet. And I’ve been here, what? About half a year already?”
“Fair enough.” He tosses me a rag. “Help me clean this up and you should be good to go.”
“Thank you po.”
“What’s going on? What’s all that pink stuff?”
Lolo Sebyo and I stop cleaning and look up. Claudine is standing in the doorway.
My eyes grow wide. No, she can’t be here. I don’t want Claudine to see where I live. It’s embarrassing!
“Sorry. Your dad let me in.” Claudine walks over to where Lolo Sebyo is and asks for his hand. “Mano po, Tatay Sebyo.”
“Claudine Dimasalang! Peachy’s beautiful daughter.” He blesses her with the sign of the cross in the air. “What brings you here?”
“There’s something I wanted to show Jolina. I hope it’s okay?”
I look expectantly at Lolo. This is what I’ve been hoping for all morning—a break from potion making. Besides, the sooner I get Claudine out of our house, the better.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of my family. But Claudine lives in this huge mansion. Our house looks like a shack by the sea compared to hers. I don’t know what I’ll do if she makes fun of it.
“Go ahead, Bee.” Lolo Sebyo gives me a kind smile. “I will finish the cleanup. Don’t make your friend wait.”
“Thank you, Lolo.”
Well, I’m not sure if Claudine is really my friend. Can you call a “friendship” based on gayuma real?
Anyway, friend or not, I’m glad to be out of potion class early. Claudine and I bid Lolo Sebyo farewell, with Kidlat following close behind. I have no idea what Claudine wants to show me. To my surprise, she leads me straight to the mango tree in our yard, where two bikes with baskets are parked against it.
Claudine pats the shiny blue one. “Mommy and I were in Cebu all week. I told her you had to sell your bike when you moved here so you couldn’t ride with me. She got me another one so we can ride together!”
“Oh wow.” I touch the handlebars of the red bike, the very same bike I admired in Claudine’s bedroom. It’s so beautiful. “I can’t take this.”
If she hadn’t been so pleased seeing me wear that blue-and-green floral blouse I ordered her to buy using gayuma, I would have returned it. I don’t know. After seeing another side of her at the party, it just doesn’t feel right having her buy things for me.
“Why not?” Claudine’s lips curl into a pout. “I thought you liked it.”
“I do. But this is too much.” I shake my head. As much as I want to, it just feels so wrong. I don’t like having someone giving me expensive things that I can’t afford just to get me to hang out with them. It makes me feel … I don’t know. Cheap. “I can’t take this, Claudine.”
“Fine,” Claudine grumbles. She meets my gaze, her eyes expectant. “How about if I let you borrow it? I just really want to go biking with you. Bring Kidlat along too. That’s what the basket is for.”
Woof! Woof! Kidlat runs in a circle, barking excitedly.
Well, I guess borrowing works. “Okay. But on one condition.”
“What?”
“You’re going to let me bring the picnic food.” I point at the basket attached to Claudine’s blue bike.
Claudine grins. “Deal!”
I hurry to the eatery and grab a bunch of ready-to-eat snacks and a few bottles of mineral water. When I return, Claudine is sitting on the bench outside Lolo’s potion lab, whistling a tune that sounds a lot like “Let It Go.”
“What did you get?” she asks, her face lighting up wh
en she sees me.
“Chicken adobo pandesal,” I answer. “If you want something else—”
“No! I love chicken adobo pandesal. It’s perfect!” Claudine takes our picnic provisions and places them in her bike basket. She looks back at me. “So what’s the pink foam stuff?”
I thought Claudine would forget all about what she saw in Lolo Sebyo’s potion lab but apparently not.
“Nothing. Just some soap that got out of hand.” It’s such a pathetic excuse, but it’s all I can think of.
“It didn’t smell like soap. It was kind of like my body spray—like cotton candy.” Claudine meets my gaze, frowning. “You know, if you don’t want to tell me, just say so. You don’t have to lie.”
“It’s supposed to be a Positive Thinking potion.”
“Ah. I see.” Claudine flicks pink foam off my hair. “Is it supposed to be so foamy?”
My eyes narrow. “No.”
“Hey, chill!” Claudine holds up her hand in surrender. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Sorry.” I let out a long sigh. “I’m just having so much trouble with brewing. Lolo says I’m doing well for someone who just started five months ago, but it doesn’t feel like it. Everything I make just ends up being a huge, colossal failure.”
Well, except for the gayuma, that is. But of course, I can’t tell her that.
“You should trust your lolo. He’s the best arbularyo there is. If he says you’re doing good, you’re doing good,” Claudine says. “I heard Ate Rica and our driver, Kuya Tinio, talking about him before. Kuya Tinio said he drove Mommy and a group of resort customers from Manila to your house once. Mommy needed your lolo’s help for her customers. These people explored an off-limits area at the resort and accidentally angered an engkanto with their noise. Tatay Sebyo cured them. He is that good.”
“Yeah, he is,” I agree.
“It’s really cool that you’ll be saving people one day.”
“It is cool.” I grin. “That is, if I ever get past making pink foam.”
“The pink foam’s cool. Useless but cool.”
We laugh. It’s nice to laugh with someone who is human and actually my age.
Claudine dusts her hands. “You ready to go?”
I secure Kidlat in the basket and get on Claudine’s red bike. “Yep! Where to, Miss Navigator?”
“I know a place.” Claudine wiggles her eyebrows. “But can you keep up, Manilenya?”
I’m surprised that for the first time ever, I’m not offended when she calls me Manilenya. Well, for one, she says it without malice. For another, I get this feeling she only means it in jest. Like, somehow, I now belong in her world—I’m no longer an outsider.
I give her a wink. “Bring it on, Claudine.”
Kidlat and I follow Claudine through Isla Pag-Ibig. We ride our bikes in the middle of the paved roads, moving to the side for the occasional vehicles passing by. They’re fast, but so few that drivers have ample time to slow down for us. Every now and then, we see a group of teens hanging out at the roadside, their backs on the metal guard rails, playing with their phones.
Claudine is leading us to the north side of the island, where we pass by rice fields at the foot of Mount Mahal. Then the foliage begins to thicken. Shrubs and towering trees hide dirt paths leading to the forests, but Claudine keeps us on the road.
Soon the trees lessen, and we’re greeted once again by a view of the beach. We pedal harder as the slope becomes steeper and finally reach the top, where a lighthouse stands.
“We’re not allowed at the tower, so let’s just set up there.” Claudine points to a nipa hut a few meters from the lighthouse, under two coconut trees and in front of a giant rock. It has a bamboo table in the middle and benches of the same material on its opposite sides. “Tourists visit this a lot for selfies and photo shoots during the summer. That hut has the best view of the Philippine Sea in all of Isla Pag-Ibig. Even better than the view from our resort—but don’t tell Mommy that.”
I laugh. Claudine is surprisingly funny.
“So you like it?” She stares at me intently. Odd.
“Yeah. What’s not to like?” I park the bike near the hut and help Kidlat out of the basket. He runs straight for the grassy area, sniffing around.
“My cousins from Manila visited last summer, before you moved here. They didn’t like it here. They just took selfies and insisted we go back to the resort so they could swim. They find it boring, just watching the waves and all.”
“Well, I’m not like them,” I assure her. “Kidlat and I spend hours just staring at the beach behind Lolo’s house. And the view isn’t even this gorgeous. Can you help me with this? This ride got me really hungry.”
Claudine’s expression clears. She grins and helps me unload our picnic stuff from her basket and our backpacks. “You’re always eating.”
“I love food.” I shrug. “And I live above a carinderia.”
“Good point,” Claudine says with a chuckle. She takes the other end of the picnic blanket, and we bring it over the table, watching it float down and settle on the uneven bamboo wood.
I hand Claudine a couple of bread rolls with shredded chicken adobo.
Philippine adobo is unlike the adobo stuff they use in Mexican cuisine. “Adobo” just means cooking meat, seafood, or veggies marinated in soy sauce, vinegar, garlic, and black peppercorns. Dad’s chicken adobo is the best—it’s slightly sweet and has a hint of spice. I really love making flakes out of the chicken, stuffing them between two pandesal halves, and lathering the meat with the adobo sauce. It’s the perfect afternoon snack. And because the vinegar helps it stay fresh longer, it’s also the best picnic meal.
“Oh, this is so good!” Claudine exclaims as she downs her food with water. She takes another huge bite and swallows. “I can’t get enough of it.”
“Slow down!” I say, laughing. I take my own giant bite out of the pandesal. The adobo chicken and bread roll combination is sweet and spicy and salty and sour.
“I miss going to this lighthouse. Mom and Tita Raven used to bring me here all the time, but they’re too busy to do that now. I feel safe around here, like it’s that one thing I will always see if I get lost in the dark,” Claudine says. She gives me a smile as she dusts bread crumbs off her shorts. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”
“Same,” I say sincerely, smiling back. “Thanks for bringing me here.”
Riding to the lighthouse with Kidlat and Claudine is so far the best experience I’ve had since moving here. We take a million selfies like tourists, making weird poses with Kidlat beside the giant rocks and on the beach. We don’t go into the water though. There are a lot of tiny jellyfish hiding under the floating seaweed. No selfie is worth a painful jellyfish sting.
By the time we arrive at Nanay Dadang’s sari-sari store, it’s already half past three. Thankfully, a man selling balut—hard-boiled, fertilized duck eggs—passes by, so Claudine and I have something to eat again. I try to pay for the eggs I get for Kidlat and me, but Claudine insists on paying.
“You already made those delicious adobo rolls. It’s my turn now,” she says.
Well, I won’t say no to free balut!
“Thanks,” I say, cracking the pointy side of my boiled duck egg on the trunk of a palm tree. “Do you ever wonder why foreigners bet each other to eat balut?”
“Well, it does look weird, you know.” Claudine removes a broken shell off her own balut. “I mean, look at that underdeveloped duck embryo. That thing looks like a real bird. I only eat the yolk part, but people who eat the bird say it’s really good. But it’s really gross-looking.”
“Yeah, it is.” I sip the soup from the egg. It’s very gamey and flavorful. “I don’t eat the bird either. Kidlat does that for me!”
At the mention of his name, my dog stands on his hind legs as he leans on me. Giggling, I pick the embryo from the egg and give it to him. Kidlat gobbles it whole, then runs around in circles happily.
“He rea
lly loves you,” Claudine says, smiling at Kidlat.
“Of course! Kidlat is the best boy.” I scratch Kidlat behind his ears. The dog closes his eyes in bliss.
“You’re lucky he’s very loyal to you.” Claudine puts some rock salt on her balut. “I used to have a goldfish, but one day Winter ate it. Mommy said the fish did a Sagip on me.”
“Sagip?”
“Seriously?” Claudine’s eyes go wide. “You’re an arbularyo apprentice of a famous faith healer and a descendant of Isla Pag-Ibig’s oldest magical family, and you don’t know what a Sagip is?”
“I am still in training, you know.” I’m starting to like Claudine, but sometimes she can really be tactless. I don’t need to be reminded that I’m this outsider who knows nothing about what’s common and basic knowledge to people in Isla Pag-Ibig.
“A Sagip is when an animal sacrifices its life to save you from bad luck or an illness.” Claudine sighs in frustration, like she’s explaining Sagip to a stubborn little toddler. “So, anyway, I was so sad when Winter ate my fish, but Mommy said the fish must have done a Sagip on me—”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” I chew the yolk and swallow. “Cats eat fish. The fish couldn’t have knowingly sacrificed itself for you.”
“Anyway …” Claudine rolls her eyes. She does that often around me, making me wonder if I accidentally broke the gayuma spell or something. “That fish loved me. I was so sad when Winter ate it.”
“Okay.” I toss the empty balut shell in the bushes. Lolo Sebyo says duck eggs make good fertilizers. “But did you get saved?”
“I dunno.” Claudine eats the last of her balut’s yolk and gives the embryo to Kidlat. My dog laps it up happily. “I still got a cold the next day. Maybe it could have been worse?”
I tilt my head, pretending to be deep in thought. “Maybe the fish just didn’t like you as much as you thought it did.”
“Ha, ha.” Claudine sticks her yolk-covered tongue at me. Gross. “You’re so hilarious.”
We look at each other and burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” a voice calls from across the road.
Sugar and Spite Page 8
