Chapter 4

Sadie

Just another day.

Another fucking day of suffering and cravings for death. I'm holding the bottom straps of my backpack as I walk on a grey sidewalk on my way to school. It's not the cold, rainy season, but the wind shakes the trees I'm passing by. My red school skirt flowed with it as I shivered. Good thing I am wearing my plain black hoodie over my white blouse. I should let my messy bun down, but I am too lazy. I could also lift the hood over my head, but for the same reasons, I can't.

I can see half of the school, which only consists of 2-meter tall white walls surrounding it, making it look like a prison if they added barbed wires. I walked faster, my black school shoes clacking on the concrete sidewalk. It will take me five minutes before I reach the gate. This makes my walk to school a 25-minute walk from home. I went inside the gates, not bothering to look or even say good morning back to the guards. I walk fast inside the school and into my class as if it will end the day more quickly. I sit on the steel chair I was assigned to sit on for the rest of the school year, my head resting on my arms over my desk. I hear my classmates that arrived earlier than I chitter chattering about assignments I already finished, quizzes I'll probably fail, and the crazy, ugly, beautiful life they are living. But the elaborated information is kind of a blur to my ear. I don't care about what they have to say anyway. My eyes are closed; all I see is nothing, and nothing matters to me now.

I feel my head being pat harshly. I look up, and it's my one and only friend in this class. "Hey, homo." I hear the thump of her shoulder bag on the floor, and the chair scrapes as she sits on it in front of me. I groan and put my head back down. "Aww, what's the matter? I thought you were excited about summer?" 

"I'm just...tired and not in the mood," I said, not lifting my head. I hear her sigh. The next thing I know is that my hair is being pulled, which is quite painful. "Ow!"

"Look at me."

I did. I saw Georgia facing me, her arms resting on the chair's top rail. She has black hair tied into a ponytail, a Greek nose, a round chin, and dark brown eyes--I mean, who has blue eyes in this country? She is wearing the full school attire without any add-ons; a white blouse with an easy-to-wear tie, a red skirt, and white socks under the black shoes. Georgia looks at me with eyes that are piercing through my soul. "Is something wrong?"

"Not much." I'm about to put my head down, but she grabs my hair again. "Ow! I swear nothing! I just cleaned the whole house and did homework, and that's why I'm tired."

"Okay, fine!" I start fixing my hair the moment my friend drops them--which is a total failure because I don't know how this hair fucking works. "Change subs: How's the band contest?!"

"Nothing yet. I just submitted like..three weeks ago?"

"Girl~ You got this!!!"

"Psh! don't think too highly of me."

"Bitch I won't get off my high horse because I know you will get the throne. Oh-" She leaned closer, her face 3 centimeters from mine. "If you win, save me a seat in front. I want to scream bullshit at you."

I rolled my eyes, which she took as a yes because she winked at me right after. Shortly, Mrs. Sanchez went in, and we stood up to greet her before our class started. 

Georgia is the type of student that almost all students hate--when the teacher is about to go, they suddenly raise their hands and scream out, "MA'AM, YOU FORGOT OUR HOMEWORK~" and the rest just glare at her. If Ms. Domingo wasn't the last subject, they might use her as a ritual sacrifice. She told me she did that because my "hard work" would be wasted.

I walk to the table and pass my paper before walking out the doors with Georgia. "So~? What's your plan for your birthday?"

"Nothing."

She looks at me with her jaw dropping and her hand on her chest like I said something offensive. "What? Unbelievable!"

"You missed my birthday last year."

"It's because one, we were not that close; two, you never told me much; and three, who gives a shit about turning 17? IT'S YOUR FUCKING DEBUT~!" She then waves her hands in every jump she makes, like the "fun" game show hosts. "18 roses! 18 gifts! Grand castle! Ball dances!And 18 boys waiting for the PRINCESS SADIE OZOA!"

I slap her lightly, but she complains that it hurts. "Disgusting!" I pretend to gag.

we both giggled. "What~? It rings right."

" Nope."

"What about Princess of darkness?"

I shrugged. "Hm. Maybe? But I still hate 'princess.'"

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Fine~! But when is the party?"

"What? I told you already—it won't happen.." 

"Even a rock emo debut?"

I shook my head.

"Oh, well, I guess you are not really a party person."

Well, that's not only the reason. It's because I don't want my mom to worry about finances. If only I could say that, but I don't want people to give me pity eyes, and I don't want Georgia to give me money again like last time.

We reach the gate and bid farewell as we walk separate ways. I smile as I reminisce about the time Georgia and I met. It was when we were both fresh-faced in school. Skip forward to three months later: I didn't make friends that much and was cold around others except when some classmates came near me to ask about the homework or some lesson or when buying tissues from me.

Most times, I am left cleaning the classroom after the class ends. Before I walked home at that time, I decided to treat myself to a frappe as a reward. As I turned around a corner, I saw Georgia from afar with some guys from the school. I walked closer to verify my assumptions, and she was in trouble. I tried to stop them with my five years of krav maga that I learned when I was 7--the time where I still call ex-dad was still what I call 'good dad'. After that, Georgia started following me to the mall and insisted on paying for my frappe as a 'thank you.' The next day, I was called to the principal's office after school by the three guys that tried to harass Georgia—I found it satisfying to look at them again with wounds on their faces, so the call was a half-blessing—and the mothers' glare at me, even mine. After--what felt like--almost an hour of parents screaming at me and then my mom continued apologizing "on my behalf" without them not giving me a chance to say what actually happened, Georgia burst out to defend me and told them the truth. Finally, the principal warned us that we would be expelled if something like this happened again. Then the rest of my friendship with her is history (by that, I mean it took Georgia's talkative ass and my trust issues 5 months for us to be close friends.) 

Now I recall when my mom and I walked home after that visit from the principal's office. She was still furious about that day because I hurt someone, which "ruined" her image, although I did it for good. I love my mom, but there are just times when we don't understand each other. I don't get why my mom cares so much about what our relatives and neighbors say about us. We all know that they will do ANYTHING to find people's flaws and use them for entertainment. It's like she would rather lick their toes than know what's good for us. She also said she was doing this for us, but my sister and I cared. All we wish for is to not act like we are perfect when we aren't. How can people expect others to be perfect when they are just as shitbags as they paint us to be?

 Now I wonder if those guys' mothers are wearing relief on their faces or are they mad because of their wrongdoings the way mom was...And if the guys are trying to be careful of harassing women this time, or did they stop doing it the way I tried to stop caring and avoid hurting people, even for good reasons.

I took a 25-minute walk down the lower part of the suburbs. I stop in my tracks. I see a pathway where nature is displayed, beautifully crafted without man-made objects. The path is barricaded with fences, though. I heard they would use the other end to expand a subdivision on the other side, so I'm visiting this place frequently. The sign written between the fence said: !DO NOT TRESPASS! 

How will that stop me if the barricade is only up to my knees?

I walked over the fence and looked around to see if someone saw me. No one did. Most people around 2 and 3 PM are home watching a noontime show the majority like, even the guards tune in for that shit. 

I continue my way. I am walking on a dirt pathway. The trees are covering the sky, the breeze making its leaves dance over me. There is almost no light leading my way since the sun is close to set, but I have walked on this path quite a few times. I know where I'm going.

I only meet the sky again when I turn to the left. I look up and see that the sun is slightly on my right, on its way to set. I keep on walking. I saw a few houses made of mangrove palm, bamboo, coconut wood, and other stuff I don't know the name of. I see that they here are never made of solid materials like concrete. One would think, "Who in the hell would still live in a house like that in 2018?" Well, silly privileged person, it's the poor people who are not being taken care of by the government, that is, or those who rather live a simple life. Why the fuck would you care?

I spot five kids playing hopscotch in the middle of the road. They stop playing when they see me and start running my way. I take my backpack off my back, pull out my untouched bread with eggs, and give all five of them. I hear a man shout from not too far away. The kids look in the direction where it comes from and bid farewell to me before they start running. I look at where they are heading. The man, quite old and with dark brown skin, is standing in the middle of a rice field. He wears a straw hat, a dark blue shirt, and black shorts. I know him, not his name, but I always see him every time I pass by this place. I assume he's the father of the kids. He waved at me, and I waved back. We smile at each other before we return to what we are doing.

I continue walking. I pass by another forest before I arrive at my destination. A field of hills and some mountains with a few trees around it. I walk over a hill and sit down in the middle of it. I take my hoodie off and place it over the backpack that I put beside me while a paper and pen are on my lap. My eyes are just glued to the sky as I let my mind wander. 

I watched the sun close to hitting the ground. The sky had shades of blue, yellow, and orange. The beauty of it is standing out with the hills surrounding me. I can't believe they will destroy this place someday. I haven't roamed the rest of the highlands to confirm if any animals are living here, but this will be a suitable habitat for them. What a waste.

I started to notice that people are blinded by the world's beauty. They only care about how they will live, ignoring that Earth can't breathe in the atmosphere we built. Sometimes I think positively that people would be smart enough to realize what they have done. But although the warning signs show, the privileged dumbasses make it much worse. I sighed and turned my head to the left. I see rows of houses from a few miles away, parts of them are covered with trees, but I can see the roofs and some windows and balconies. One place is facing me, with pink walls, a red top—not a good combination, to be honest—with a balcony. I wonder if they ever look at all these and think it will be shit if this beautiful view disappears…

I looked away. Fuck rich people. Why would I ever care about them if they don't care about Mother Earth? Instead, I focus my eyes back on the sky. It is pretty dark now. Stars are surrounding my eyesight. They were like the glitter on my mother's day letter when I was in grade 5. The way they scintillate in the sky...It's so beautiful and sexy. It's like they're winking at me, and now I get oh so turned on. (Not literally that. I meant that as a metaphor.) I look at every corner of the sky, all covered with stars. I imagine my eyes glistening with the blinking space lights and my iris reflecting them. Ever since I was a kid, I have been so fascinated by the stars that my first wish was to be an astronaut. But my science grade was so low, so I threw those dreams away. (Fuck memorization for fucking up my brain, and fuck my brain because it sucks at memorizing things. Also, fuck biology for showing dicks and vagina, and now I'm traumatized.)

But it did not stop me from gazing at them because who wouldn't? I close my eyes and feel the atmosphere around me. I feel a sense of comfort in my surroundings. The cold air hit my skin, crickets ringing in my ears, and my heart beating in my chest. I smiled. This is my escapade. Although I am only feeling this today, at least I know what it feels like to be in a different world.

I opened my eyes and met with the same stars, still blinking and winking at me. My smile stayed. After what happened yesterday, I deserve this, I thought. I keep staring at the stars and notice the moon is out of sight. I look around but can't find it. . I look back at the starry sky while simultaneously thinking about where the moon might be. 

This just gave me an idea.

 I look at my notebook, still resting on my legs. I stare at the additional "plans" I made in my Build A Word section, which are just a few. Then I turn the page far back to a blank page. I grabbed the pen from my school blouse and started writing.

>< <> <> ><

It's 7 PM when I arrive home. It is just a 15-minute walk from the forest to my house since this part of town is close. I lock our metal gate as soon as I get in and walk to our door. The only light illuminating the house is through the left window, which is the light from the stairs. I assume they are not home yet. I took my bag off my back and grabbed the keys inside the small pocket. I open the door, lock it, and proceed to go up the stairs when my assumptions are correct, or so I hope. If mom was here, she would be sitting on the couch playing Candy Crush while waiting for us, but the living room lights are off. There is also no way my sister is here since she has a cooking practice somewhere in her culinary school. I don't know, nor do I care. I'm just glad no one else is home yet. 

I drop my bag beside my door and jump straight to my bed. I reach for my laptop and place it in the bedside drawer. I set it on my lap and press the power button.

I open my socials and check out what is happening around me. I see so many of my "friends" and mutuals sharing and retweeting posts about Anya Moore having a second concert tomorrow (or what pun-ists say, "She's having 'Moore' concert." I have lost hope in humanity at this point.) They said this is for those who did not attend the concert yesterday and almost everyone at school is attending. Everyone is celebrating and thanking Anya for it. It's trending at number one worldwide, and her songs are returning to number one on Spotify, Billboard, and Youtube. Damn, Filipinos sure are something. I don't know whether it's because Anya Moore is a Filipino who achieved something in America, or she is just a good singer?

Not gonna lie. She has a good voice. But the autotunes, the lyrics and the vibe of the songs are just too mainstream--or maybe I'm just too emo. The lyrics are just too simple, although meaningful. It's just the same old pop songs that can be about love, heartbreak, or being yourself, no matter what they say, like she's trying hard to go with the majority's interests or something. I stop scrolling at one post and click on the picture. It shows Anya posing for the cover of Cosmopolitan Magazine. The magazine's name is written above, but some letters are missing, so it was edited like Anya's head is covering it. Besides the drama article titles written on each side of the picture, there is also the word Proud Filipina! Written with a big font on the bottom left. She is wearing a modernized Filipiniana dress: a black crop top with red shoulder pads and a long red slit skirt, showing her smooth white legs. She stands up, her legs crossed, chin resting at the end of her palm, eyes looking up, and her teeth flashing a smile. I keep staring at it.

  I will crush on her hard if she is not too pop for my taste. 

I close the page and just open my G***l. Anya is not who I care about tomorrow. I immediately saw an email from ROCK OUT LOUD! Sent at 6 AM with the subject title The Rocking Songwriting contest! My palms start sweating. The Rock Out Loud Songwriting contest...It is one of the biggest songwriting contests in the country (and the only rock-related one). It holds a songwriting contest every year, but I only joined last January where the theme was "The World Is Against All Odds!" because it is related to my favorite local band, Hearts In Circle's new album with the same name. Not only that, but the band will also choose the top five winners who will be given free VIP tickets to their Sold out--I repeat, SOLD. OUT.--concert PLUS they would also get to sing their original songs where they would get discovered by fellow fans. I wrote a piece on my own and let my band, MisFits, do the instrumental. I can feel my heart racing. Out of all ten thousand who joined, there is no way I'll get in. I can see the preview text, which is just a greeting. My middle finger is slowly moving on the mouse pad until the arrow on my screen is on the email. With eyes closed and breathing inhaled, I press the left button below the mouse pad. It takes me a minute or two to slowly open my eyes to read what's on my screen:

"Good evening, Sadie!

 This is ROCK OUT LOUD! The best source of news related to the hottest bands locally and internationally. 

We like to inform you that you are one of the top HOT picks of Hearts In Circle to be in their WORLD AGAINST THE ODDS concert this Friday, March 26, 2018! You will be given four VIP tickets, as requested, and will be singing on the stage. To obtain the tickets, mention the name of the song you submitted to us to the ticket collector.

Thank you for participating! Keep ROCKING OUT LOUD! Sadie

xxx

Rock Out Loud! staffs."

I got in...My song...was chosen by the Hearts In Circle. MY FUCKING SONG GOT CHOSEN BY THE ONE AND ONLY HEARTS INSIDE THE FUCKING CIRCLE! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! I try to catch my breath for a bit. Never have I felt so validated in my motherfucking life. 

I chat on my band's group chat with my phone by taking a picture of the email and sending it to them. I turn my laptop off and lie on the bed, my head on my pillow and my feet at the end of the bed--you know, like ordinary people do. I am just staring up at the ceiling. Then I squealed, my body moving around the bed. I might look crazy, but I don't care. 

It took me longer than a minute to stare back at the ceiling. My smile's so wide it reaches the venue where the concert will be held. It's waiting outside the front door right now, it arrived ahead of me and the band itself, and it will never leave. It is the longest smile I've ever made in years. It beat the long line from Anya's concert yesterday.

This is it, I thought. My voice can finally be heard...And maybe I can change the world...Somehow…

I guess the world is not against all odds.