by Mae Coyiuto
The Year We
Became Invincible
Mae Coyiuto
Copyright to this digital edition © 2015 by
Samantha Mae Coyiuto and Anvil Publishing, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or
by any means without the written permission of the copyright owners.
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Cover design by Tania Arpa
Book design by Joshene Bersales and Ysa Garcia
ISBN 978-971-27-3180-8 (e-book)
To my Dichi, Sofia,
You taking your leap inspired me to take mine
FOREWORD
I’ve found that one of the easiest forms of escape these days is to simply pick up a good YA book and lose yourself in it.
I'm an adult, but I’m not alone in loving books for “Young Adults.” It’s probably because I sometimes feel I am living in different worlds. There’s the actual world, one that requires me to act like the adult that I am; but when I'm reading YA, even the contemporary ones (not fantasy, not dystopia), I'm transported to another world—one where I am the main character at exactly that point in her life, which I understand because I was, at some point, that person, too. And I know, when it comes down to it, I still am (YA at heart).
Camille Li, the smart young lady you’ll meet in this book, is a teen herself. She lives in a world of expectations. She’s from a family of immigrants and feels it despite knowing no other home. She has to fit in but also stand out. Ballet is her medium, what she can use to show grace and strength; but it is also the first to remind her of her physical and emotional limits.
She finds her own escape in a world where, possibly, only she could decide who she becomes, and she hopes she can find people who will appreciate that. The way her story is told is through letters to a future love, like letters to a world she doesn’t belong to yet, but is finding a way to be part of.
Camille has that in common with her author, Mae Coyiuto. Mae is (slightly) older than Camille and knows a thing or two about living in two worlds. Living in two countries and being a young person with young person concerns, saddled with an adult-sized drive to accomplish things, Mae is a young adult writing Young Adult. But that’s not this book’s only qualification. In fact, this feels like Mae (slightly older and wiser than Camille) sending a reassuring message back to her protagonist, and to all of us who are able to tap into our YA selves.
Filipino readers have a lot of YA titles from all over the world to choose from, if they want to escape and relive this feeling. I think it’s very important that they have Filipino voices among that selection. When I encounter Filipino authors writing YA, it excites me when what they do doesn’t fall exactly under the same category as those that came before it. I’m glad Mae has written this book and put it out there. It’s important that we know that YA can be written this way, too.
Mina V. Esguerra
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Over the past year, the idea for The Year We Became Invincible has continuously snowballed into what it is now printed in these pages. I would like to thank the many, many people who have helped me build this snowball.
I would first like to thank Mina Esguerra. Thank you for answering all my texts when I was freaking out about publishing, for writing a lovely foreword, and for introducing me to an editor. Most importantly, thank you for inspiring me to write the genre that I love. Speaking of my editor, thank you to Layla Tanjutco for helping me give these characters the story, the title, and the ending that they deserve. Thank you to Tania Arpa for using her awesome artistic talents in designing the cover. To all the amazing people in Anvil Publishing: Karina Bolasco, Gwenn Galvez, Ani Habulan, and Ysa Garcia, I cannot thank you enough for taking a chance on me ten years ago and for allowing me to share my stories with others.
I would also like to thank my friends for still being my friends despite the constant obligation of reading my works. Thank you, Samie, for picking up the phone when I was contemplating on what I would do during my leave of absence and asking me, “Why not write?” Thank you, Kim, for educating my clueless self about ballet. Thank you, Christine, for making the first draft of this your bedtime story. Thank you, Monica, for reading this a few hours after I sent it to you and for pushing me to write an even better story. Thank you to Alex, Cam, Lexi, Lea Lynn, Paulsy, and Patsy for functioning as both my best friends and first readers. To my LEAP friends, thank you for helping me make this possible.
To my family, you are my everything, and these few words are not enough to express how grateful I am to be born into a world where I am related to you. To my cousin Hannah, thank you for engaging my love for YA and showing me what else is out there. Thank you, Jam, for listening to me ramble on about this idea and for reading my first draft. Thank you, Joseph, for letting me hog your desktop (with no complaints!). Thank you to my siblings: Sofia, Stenie, and Alex. Growing up with you as my other halves fueled me with more love and support than I could ever need. And to my parents, thank you for being nothing but encouraging for all the years of my existence. There are no characters that I will ever love more than the two of you.
The Year We
Became Invincible
Hello Hi Dear future partner,
It’s pretty funny how we may be complete strangers right now. It’s even funnier to think that we may not be strangers. I read somewhere that 80% of the population would have met the person they were going to marry by the age of 18. Considering how large 80% is and that I’m turning 18 next year, there is a huge probability that we’ve already met.
“Why am I writing to you now?” you may ask. I don’t have a direct answer for you, but I guess everything that happened today got me thinking.
Today was my older sister Lea’s birthday, and she brought her boyfriend Martin over for dinner. They have been going out for a while now. Martin dresses really well. I remember that he wore yellow pants the last time he came over. He was the kind of guy who could pull off yellow pants.
“How’re your parents? Please tell them hi for me,” Mom would always say.
“How’re things going in the office?” Dad would then ask.
My mom calls Martin “perfect.” “Perfect” is not a simple word that can be used to describe just anything. It takes something or someone special to be called “perfect.” I wonder what made Mom decide to call Martin “perfect.” After we had dinner, Martin gave Lea a fancily wrapped box. Inside, was a bracelet with shiny charms dangling from it. My little sister Nikki and my Mom squealed. Dad smiled in approval. Lea said she loved it and kissed Martin on the cheek.
Later that night, as I was going to bed, I looked into Lea’s room and saw her put the bracelet in a cardboard box.
She saw me and asked, “Do you want it?”
“I don’t really like flashy jewelry.”
“Yeah, same here.”
I saw that there were lots of other similar gifts in the box. She put the lid back on and slid it under her bed. I thought that telling Martin the truth would be easier than having to hide all that stuff. I guess my sister thought differently.
If I’m with the person that I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, I would want him to know that I didn’t like jewelry. I want to be able to tell him what I don’t like and me
an it when I say, “I love it.” That is why I’m writing to you now, future partner, so that you could get to know me—the real me. Hopefully you wouldn’t like me less after reading all of these letters.
Looking forward to meet you,
Camille
Dear Future Partner,
Today was my last first day of high school. Everyone kept making a big deal out of it, but it honestly felt like any other day I spent in school. I guess the only difference was all the teachers acted like they were already prepared to say goodbye to us. Also, we met the new guidance counselor for the first time. His name is Mr. Terrell, but he told us to call him Terry. I decided to stick with Mr. Terrell. He kept on saying things like:
“You’re lucky to be in a school where everything is handed to you.”
“You might never see all these faces around you in the same room ever again.”
“High school is not like the real world.”
I wanted to say that the high school is located in the world and the world is real, so technically, it is in the real world. I decided not to though because I didn’t want to offend the teacher on the first day. I think that was a hundredth school day type of thing.
He then went on a spiel about college and career choices. College was like those Ebola, bird flu, or mad cow diseases: you hear about it; you keep preparing for it; and you know it exists, but you don’t really believe it until it happens to you.
“The world is at your fingertips, my friends. What’s the next step? What am I going to do for the rest of my life? These are the questions that should be on your mind! I got to where I am today because I had a plan.”
He handed out strips of paper to everyone in class. They looked like this:
MY FUTURE
Name:
Age:
Astrological Sign:
College picks:
10 years from now, I want to be:
“I want you to fill this out and submit it to my office tomorrow morning. Whatever lies in your future reflects how much you have planned for it. So if you turn in a blank piece of paper to me, that’s exactly how your future is going to look like,” Mr. Terrell said with a wink.
“I also posted a list right outside the classroom. I want to meet each and every one of you during this first week. Today is a lucky day, my friends, except for the Virgos. You guys should watch out.”
During lunch, most of us were still talking about the “Future” assignment.
“I still don’t understand why he wants to know our astrological sign,” Jenny said.
Jenny is my oldest friend, and I don’t mean in terms of age. By oldest, I mean that I’ve known her for basically my whole life. Jenny and I have been eating lunch together since kindergarten. But as years passed, she started getting new friends, and our lunch group grew bigger and bigger. They were nice and all, but I never really joined in much when they talked. I would keep on thinking about something funny to say or a good comeback to what someone said; but by the time I was about to say it, they had already switched topics. Making friends was easier when I was younger. When you’re a kid, you didn’t have to worry too much if you said the right thing or not.
“Ten years from now…I want to star in my own reality show,” Bea said as she wrote on her paper. Bea was the president of the Drama Club, and she always knew what to say to make people laugh.
“You always aim high,” Jenny said.
“Of course. Seriously though, I still have no idea which schools I’m going to apply to,” Bea said.
“My parents told me that I should go for schools with a good accounting program. They said that accounting graduates get good jobs,” Jenny said. “I wish I was as certain as you, Camille.”
“Which schools are you applying to?” Bea asked me.
“She’s going Blue and Gold,” Jenny said.
“Ooh, UC Berkeley?”
I nodded, and Jenny said, “Camille has her whole life figured out.”
“Wow,” Bea said. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do this weekend.”
They laughed, and I laughed along with them.
“Hey Camille, what’s up with Nikki? Does she really have a thing with Polo?” asked Bea.
Nikki is my younger sister who’s a sophomore. She was sitting with a guy from our year. They did look very couple-y.
“I don’t really know.”
“Wasn’t she just with Marco?” Jenny said.
“No, she was dating Marco last year,” Bea said.
They continued talking but I had to leave the lunch table early because I was the first one to meet Mr. Terrell. His office didn’t look anything like that of the last counselor. First, he had bean bags instead of chairs. Second, the room was full of cat posters. These cats were in weird poses with quotes like:
“FELINE great!”
“Life doesn’t PAWS for anyone!”
“It’s going to be a PURRfect day!”
Mr. Terrell looked like he slept with a coat hanger stuck in his mouth.
“Camille Li. 3.6 GPA, avid ballerina. Great to finally see the face behind the record. Tell me, what’s your zodiac sign?”
“Aries.”
“Aries! The first sign of the zodiac! The born leader who craves adventure! I’m a Leo myself, so you and I Camille…we connect,” he said as he bumped his two fists together.
I can’t remember what I answered to that. I was too preoccupied with trying not to slide off the bean bag.
“So tell me, what do you see in your future?” he asked.
“My future?”
“Any thoughts on college?”
“I’m applying to Berkeley.”
“Excellent school! Excellent choice! Your GPA does fall in the range of admitted students…Your test scores are a little below the average, but you have a strong resumé. What other schools are you applying to?”
“I haven’t really thought about other options.”
Mr. Terrell drummed his fingers on his bean bag.
“Look Camille, I’m going to be honest with you; from Leo to Aries. If it were up to me, I would admit you in a heartbeat. But this is one of the top schools in the country. Thousands of students all over the world want to get in. Even the brightest students get turned down. I’m not saying you’re not going to pass, but I strongly suggest you apply to more than one school.”
I nodded, and Mr. Terrell got up and gave me a hug. I wasn’t sure if this crossed some kind of boundary.
“I know this is a tough time for you, but you’re going to make it through. Come back to my office if you need anything.”
Mr. Terrell is a strange, strange man.
When I got home, I stared at the piece of paper Mr. Terrell gave. Alternate schools never even crossed my mind. There were never any other options. Like my dad, I was going to go to UC Berkeley. I was going to major in Chemistry like my dad, and I was going to be a doctor like my dad. I knew the answers to these questions years ago, but why didn’t I immediately fill it up? I didn’t know what was stopping me.
Maybe this day wasn’t like any other day. I guess it was like a not-so-ordinary ordinary day.
Looking forward to meet you,
Camille
Dear Future Partner,
If there is such a thing as spirit food, I would have chosen a banana. On the outside, I look very Asian. I can’t even count anymore how many times I’ve had these dialogues:
Me: —speaks like I normally do—
Person A: Wow. Your English is so good!
What I want to say: Thanks. I’ve been speaking it for my whole life.
What I end up saying: Thanks.
Person B: Where are you from?
Me: I’m from around here.
Person B: No, I mean where are you originally from?
What I want to say: …Here.
What I end up saying: My grandparents moved here from China.
But after so many years in America, my insides have turned very white. I invest way too much of
my passion and time in the Kardashians and American Idol. My parents are fluent in Chinese, but it’s a foreign language to me. I’ve never even been to Asia. The closest I have ever gotten was Chinatown down the block.
But there is still some Asian left in me. I know how to use chopsticks. I know that “Ni hao” meant hi and that “Xie xie” meant thank you. I also know that I should feel offended when someone calls my eyes “chinky.” I could also say that I have sort of a “Tiger parent.” As much as I love my dad, I think he fits the bill. In my house, what my dad says is law.
For example, my dad believes that education should be holistic. Aside from our academics, Dad wanted us to develop our artistic side. All of us sisters had to pick a hobby.
Lea chose to play the piano.
Nikki chose to paint.
I chose ballet.
I had been dancing since I was seven years old. I was so excited to have my very own pink leotard and ballet shoes. I never expected that shoes that pretty could make your feet bleed so much. Dad brought me to my very first lesson. All the parents watched from the sidelines. He was the only dad in the sea of moms.
I didn’t like it. Actually, I hated it. I was always getting singled out because I didn’t stay in my spot. I also liked adding my own moves to the routine. I learned that there was no room for improvisation in ballet. You watched the moves, followed the moves, and hoped to god that you perfect the moves.
After a few weeks of lessons, I didn’t want to go anymore. I threw out my ballet shoes and watched TV instead. That was the angriest I ever saw my dad get. He screamed at me to get my shoes out of the trash and to get dressed. He drove me to practice even though I was crying on the way. The tears didn’t stop when I was dancing. When we finished practice, my dad held my hand, and we waited until the rest of the kids left the room. He knelt in front of me and told me:
