current music: One and Only - Parokya ni Edgar

His day was a day of secrets.

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He began it with a clandestine meeting with someone's mother. Interestingly, stories were swapped. Some inspired laughs and cheers, as they traded embarrassing anecdote after another. Other tales made hair stand on end. There were some pretty indecent things that took place in their household. He and his rector listend ruefully to the testimony.

Sometimes, we learn things we wished we never knew. Hence, we keep things secret, hoping nobody hurts from what we keep from others.

Leaving the cafeteria, he had a mission. He was to find someone who would hopefully key a conversion in someone's heart. He knew, as decreed by his tasks, that he had to get the job done. However, he understood such a thing would bring pain.

He weighed his options carefully, as he boarded a tricylce back to the church. Deliberations were taking place, and he missed quite a bit already.

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I wish I could come along.

His thoughts drifted to images of Shrek 2. The first movie totally sucked ass in his opinion, but the trailer of its sequel elicited at least a smile. He now had the option to come along with them to watch.

He just didn't have enough money.

They sat at Jollibee. Deliberations were done, and he was gratefuly his duties as a tutor were coming to an end. Finally, a new batch of students would enter school with the peace of mind that their tuition would be taken care of. He was also proud of denying several freeloaders of their shot, especially because they did nothing to help them.

Yes. He was happy. He related it to Jeloi, the friend beside him in between experiences of being with family and shaving, that in a span of two months, everything he could ever really wish for was coming true. Wishing and praying does work, he said.

Everything...except... well, we'll have to wait and see...

Now, at Jollibee, they were preparing a surprise. It was Issa's birthday. The anticipation was heavy, the people were feeling giddy. It was a good feeling.

One by one they boarded tricylces back to the church. He watched and smiled, as a small fleet of trikes sped, changing formations as they flew.

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"Andyan na siya!" Paeng, Migo and RaPao hid behind the black glided gate. Michiko killed the electric fans, and Kat corraled two kids into the shadows so they wouldn't be seen. Migi kept silent.

Issa, with Angel, Wowie, Mickee and Migs in tow, started to pluck balloons one by one. He took pride in the work he and Chreesy had done, placing balloons all over the garden, up the staircase, each with a puzzle piece. They were waiting for her to assemble the puzzle, with their message written across.

She climbed the stairs, and they crawled out of their hiding places. Some from Linkod Hall, creeping out from behind tables and stacked chairs. Ninjas, some would say. Stealth commandos also come to mind, in comparison to the stealth displayed by LnK'ers. Siguro pwede ko silang yayaing mag-airsoft, he thought, watching them duck for cover behind doors, pillars, ledges of walls, even bathrooms of opposite sexes.

They gathered at the foot of the staircase. They waited, and waited in the dark, then Angel said out loud "1-2-3!"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!" sang twelve people, climbing the stairs. The plan went off without a hitch.

In two days, it'd be Big Pao's turn. He couldn't wait.

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He walked alone. There were many little rocks on his way, and while his trusty white Adidas shoes cushioned his feet, they were no match to the miles he was trekking. Long miles. He looked up, and saw the lights on the horizon.

The road smoothened, then became rocky, then muddy. To the path's credit, it was relatively well-lit. The guiding light was a welcome addition, and it kept him safe from stumbling the whole way.

==========

He reached the gate of his village. Sweat beads formed at his forehead. His face towel was already drenched and useless in this impasse.

That's when she stepped out of the triclye. His eyes traced the outline of the woman's figure. He estimated her height to be up to his nose, her ponytailed hair swishing left and right like a hypnotic pendulum. Before passing the village gate, she turned her head to look back a bit. Instinctively, his eyes switched gaze from the back of her head to the empty road on the right. He took in a quick glace of her face.

Wow.

He walked as the lithe figure lead the way. Clomp clomp went her low-heeled shoes, carrying the weight of calves, white like the milk he drank for breakfast.

They walked. He slowed his pace, deliberately, to give her some safe distance to walk without feeling too closely followed. That, and the fatigue of walking all the way from Della caught up to him. Crunch went some dry leaves beneath his feet. He started to pick his pace more carefully, gently lifting his Adidas shoes so as not to scrape the concrete.

His gaze was a laser pointer, almost a hand that clumsily felt the motion of each step she took. Her waist sashayed left and right, deliberate steps taken to avoid slipping, her gaze fixed to the ground. She walked about two feet off the edge of the sidewalk, into empty road.

People who do that tend to be depressed. These thoughts came to him, remembering times when he had to walk these roads alone, tired, and despondent that nobody could return the things he did and felt for them.

But he wasn't so alone tonight.

Crack. A twig broke under his feet. She looked back, and his neck pushed his forehead to point down. She must've noticed him still walking behind, and walked to the opposite side of the road. In silence he walked on, not daring to try and say anything. It would be too weird, to say "Hi, I live around here too. What's your name?", too weird, now that he found her unbearably cute and that he was almost stalking her.

Respect the distance... hayaan mo lang...

She reached the bottom of the hill first, and entered Phase Two. He watched, the laser-pointers of his head still painting a red dot on her waist, marking her steps. Till he could see her no more. Till his feet had to take the mandatory left half-twist, and then, he'd be back on track.

Homeward. To be welcomed by a dinner dish of nothing but tomatoes, the Lakers winning again, his father's gentle chastising of his sweaty, odious shirt, and an hour all alone to write.