CHAPTER ONE : AN ILLUSION

Chapter One: An Illusion

Was that just a dream or was it real?

      Selena woke up with a start. The image of the moonlit castle floating in the sky flashed before her eyes. It has just been two hours since she saw that magnificent yet ominous sight. No matter what she does, she still can't get it out of her head. Staring at the clock, she reminisced about everything that had happened. Every moment was just so mundane that the sudden appearance of the castle and the ensuing blast of light made it seem like a dream, yet she can also claim it was not. 

       Realizing she was going to be late on her first day in college if she didn't get moving anytime soon, she rose quietly and checked her phone. The newest text message she saw was from Cynthia.    

 I've dreamt of a sky castle!

        How much of a coincidence was it that she and her best friend had the same dream? Confused and very much lost what to do about it, Selena stepped over her sister Lyka’s sleeping form on the cot and opened the door. She was welcomed by the sight of her grumpy grandmother, who had her hand raised, about to knock on the door. She grinned triumphantly at her before reaching for the bath towel hanging behind the door. Her Gran would unleash all the wrath of a deranged old hag as a morning wake-up call on regular days. Today, Selena's usual tardiness was nowhere. Today, she felt oddly revitalized. She found her mom tucking the broom inside the cupboard under the stairs. Sweeping the floor this early in the morning is one of the traits her grandmother ingrained in her ever since she was five. Sadly, her grandmother's hopes were all in vain.

           "So, you sneaked out again last night," said Gran. “And now you’ve learned to wake up early. Should I kick you out of the house once in a while in hopes of achieving even better results?”

            "Don't push your luck, Gran," she said and yawned. "I was born lazy."

         "Selena," her mother admonished her blatant disrespect. It was just her being sassy. She didn't really mean it.

           Her grandmother just shook her head, visibly appalled by her behavior. Ignoring their disapproving looks, Selena went to the bathroom and took a shower. The image of the floating castle repeatedly popping in her head slowed her pace. With her mind wandering back to the castle, now and then, she found herself done prepping up and sitting in front of the dining table.

            Selena noticed her mom staring at her, which brought a frown to her face.

        "You…" her mom started. "Something changed." She even lifted her hand, clearly intending to run it on her cheeks.

           "Her pimples are gone alright," said her Gran, scrutinizing her face. Selena leaned away from her mother's touch.

           "Pimples, especially the likes of mine, don't go away overnight, Gran," Selena told them carelessly. She tried to hide her face over her wet hair. This was also the reason why she didn't look at the mirror. It's one thing to be ugly, and it's another thing if you want to be reminded of it all the time. People are judgmental creatures. She knows she's hideous, and she has no right to ruin other people's day just by the look of her. Besides, she may not be a feminist, but she knows she doesn't have to be beautiful to be valuable.

            Honestly, though, when will they stop showing up?

          Selena imagined herself flipping the table in her outrage. Instead, she quietly scooped rice from the pot and ate while her younger brother Ruben used the bathroom. They have to work in rotation like that.

           "Gran, may I have more?" Selena asked and shoved her plate closer to her grandmother. Today's breakfast was the leftovers from the other day's celebration. Her grandmother is the best cook she knows. She tried her best not to sound too eager, but then her grandmother scowled at her.

           "Ruben hasn't eaten yet," her grandmother said flatly. "We don't have more food to spare."

           "Right," Selena cried inside. She chewed the inside of her mouth, crushed. Selena drank two glasses of water to fill in the rest of the space of her discontented stomach.

           She rose, brushed her teeth, and went back to their room to fetch her backpack. Her first day in college, away from her best friend Cynthia, in an IT school with a population of six hundred, will be a considerable custom change for her. She's the type that would rather be invisible, would rather be unknown, than revel in the spotlight. Going to a school with that small population may not assure her anonymity as much as a state university could. On top of that, she knew she’d have trouble finding friends without Cynthia there with her.

           There's freedom in being unknown.

           This is Selena's long-time life principle. 

           I don't need new friends. 

           She took her grandmother's hand and brought it to her forehead. She did the same thing to her mother. It's a gesture that's been engraved in her very core. It is how Filipinos get their blessing from the elderly before leaving or as a greeting.

           The moment she stepped out of the gate, she raised her gaze to the sky, observing how slowly the clouds were moving, how the breeze was just right, and the fragrant smell of the neighbor's rose garden. Overall, it's a lovely day.

              She hunkered down, holding both her ears grimacing in doubt.

           I can't do this. Oh, Cynthia. 

           When she raised her gaze and turned to close the gate, she saw her brother Ruben sneering at her and watched him shake his head in obvious disappointment before stepping back to the house. She may have heard him utter a 'weirdo,' but she may have also just imagined that. Sighing, she made her way to the highway.

     Being practically a pauper who wants to graduate college has some setbacks. Her granduncle decided to finance her college education as long as she takes IT and studies it at BCC. In contrast, Cynthia had long decided to take Mass Communication at Batangas State University.

           Selena was that girl with hideous bangs, pimply face, and scrawny stature who tails around Cynthia's light. She knew that by the time they both entered high school, their personalities were the total opposite. Cynthia's pretty while Selena's ugly. Cynthia has this shapely body, while Selena gets to be nothing but skinny. Cynthia fights back while Selena adapts. Cynthia was the yin, and she was the yang. 

              Selena groaned, lost. "Damn it."

           She shot up and fixed her wrinkled white shirt imprinted with the HP Deathly Hallows insignia. The thing is, she's not the least bit bothered if she will graduate friendless. She was just so used to Cynthia's presence that she was entertaining some presumed fallacies conjured by her mind.

           "Take care of yourself, Cynthia," she whispered in the air and started walking to the highway. I'm not there to protect you from yourself anymore. She thought bitterly and raised her hand to hail a jeepney.

           The jeepney halted in front of her, crouching her way to sit on the vacant spot inside. She then handed over the fare to the old man sitting next to her and watched him pass it to the person next to him. This gesture happened over and over until the money reached the driver. The five-minute drive to school felt like the briefest five minutes of her life.

           She sighed forlornly and asked the driver to drop her by the side of the road. As soon as she got off the jeepney, she stared at the gate's arch and noticed the newly printed banner welcoming the incoming freshmen. 

           Welcome to college.

          Selena looked around, fighting the anxiousness that was starting to bubble inside her. On her way inside, she noticed the cemented round tables milling by the side of the pathway. The pine trees serving as the tables' only source of shade were perfectly trimmed. Two cats were lying on the cemented floor right beside the guard, who looked cheerful enough, judging by the way he was smiling at every student who had passed by him. Her eyes wandered to the narrowly built school cafeteria to her right, painted plainly with white. The basketball court was improvised to be the school's very own parking space. Not that she was expecting anything remarkable, but she made a silent note not to have her hopes up when it comes to the inside of the building.

           The silent note turned out to be moot. The computer facilities were, in fact, state-of-the-art. It took a whole lot of self-control not to gawk at the MAIN LAB. As a distraction, she pulled out her schedule from her pocket and journeyed straight to her classroom. She entered as quietly as she could via the back door and found the furthest chair located in the back row. Half an hour passed by, and students strolled in one after another. Finally, the professor arrived and was nothing but a herald of bad news.

           "Every student is required to join a club or two. Here are the enlisted clubs of the school." The professor didn’t introduce himself, nor did he offer any opening greeting. He just stepped inside and blurted it out. After that, he nonchalantly set up his laptop on the table and tinkered with the projector.

Selena frowned at the professor standing in front of the class. She didn't like what she heard. With the length and volume of her bangs, no one noticed she was glaring at him.

           Bless your soul, oldie. I'm not going to join any of this school's juvenile clubs. 

           She watched him press his remote, and the slide of his PowerPoint presentation shifted to the next. They were told that this college allotted a lot of importance to socializing and working with others. They've assigned the last hour of the day for club activities. Anyone who fails to find herself a club to join on their first day of school will be summoned to a consultation by this meddlesome professor.

            Oh, well. I can always join one and ignore club meetings.

           "Why do we even need to entertain this farce?" asked one of her classmates. Selena's eyebrows rose as she looked at the boy who had blurted that out so dauntingly. What she saw was a boy with shiny quiffed black hair, a straight pointed nose, manly jaws, and eyes sparkling with annoyance, emphasized by such mannish thick eyebrows. Selena watched his face with lazy interest. His eyes gleamed with outright defiance, jaws clenched, his nose flaring. She scoffed at his righteous display of anger. "I came here to study, not waste my time making friends."

           How embarrassing.

           "You must be Zacharias Aguila," asked the professor. "The dean's nephew."

          The mention of his relation to the dean only enraged him more. He rose from his seat and stormed out of the room. Everyone watched him stride past the professor, glaring.

           That guy has serious anger issues.

--

           Selena decided that if she was going to join a club, she might as well choose the club with the most members. It might not ensure her anonymity, but it may help ensconce her future absences.

           She sighed and opened the door where the POLARs put a table for club registration. She strolled inside and carefully studied the place. The place was packed with noisy gossiping students. She tried her best not to bump against anyone while finding her way to the desk. She's going to scribble her name on the membership sheet and be out of there in a jiffy. She noted that not even the girl behind the desk had paid attention to her. As soon as she got out and closed the door, she dropped her gaze on the floor and sighed in relief.

           When she looked up, she saw Zacharias Aguila standing in front of her, scowling.

           He looked at her like he was going to snap any time, which he did, by the way.

         "Get out of the way!" he yelled. Selena stepped out of the way and scoffed. He didn't notice her scoff, but he did hear her whisper.

           "Jerk."

         His head hastily turned to her. She wanted to step away from the spark of wrath in his eyes, but she just tilted her head to the side, feigning innocence. The guy glared at her but, to her amazement, let it slide. He turned away and entered the room. Selena's mouth twitched in glee. The room fell silent the moment he stepped foot inside. She knew that they both thought of the perks of being in a massive club but obviously, he's not entitled to any of it.

           Serves you right, Evil Spawn.

           Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out from her pocket.

           Class is over. How 'bout yours?

           Selena typed a quick reply and decided to check out the library. She expected it to be devoid of students, but it seemed she was wrong. She entered and deposited her bag on the counter. For a library, the place was rather loud. Annoyed by the fact that she’s not going to have any peace in that place, she wrote her name hastily on the log sheet and went to the shelves. She heard the librarian hush the students' gossip, which worked for a while. Still, the conversations continued a few minutes later.

       All the books were academic. Selena searched for some fiction books for light reading to pass the time, but she found none. She picked up one of the magazines, sat down on the floor behind the last shelf, and started reading.

           Not much time passed by when she felt eyes on her. She looked up and pressed her lips together in contempt. Evil Spawn was standing at the end of the aisle, a couple of feet away from her, scowling. She glanced at the magazine he was holding. And by the look on his face, he was planning to do the same thing she did. Hide behind the last shelf, away from the crowd.

           Selena ignored his presence and turned her attention back to the magazine. She heard his footsteps turn to the next shelf, knowing he has not much of an option but to make do with the second-best seat in the house. Once again, ignoring the other guy’s presence, she devoured every word in the magazine. She vaguely checked some of the information in her memory bank regarding the Maglev trains of China, which she read a few years back. Thinking that not much was upgraded in the new version, she closed the magazine and decided to read. She was about to stand up to get another magazine when the book beside her fell from the shelf. She saw Evil Spawn peeking on the space left by the lost book.

           "Are you done with that?" he asked and gave a lingering glance at the magazine she was holding.

           Selena nodded.

           "Hand it over," he told her. She didn't like the tone of his voice and decided to decline when he stuck his magazine out. Selena raised an eyebrow at the gesture. He wanted an exchange. Selena mentally shrugged. Fair enough.

           She grabbed it, and they went on with their little transaction. It surprised her that Zacharias Aguila picked out the magazine she was about to choose before seeing the one she had just read. She read the magazine he handed over and, after that returned it to the magazine rack. She fetched her backpack and left the library with her gaze on the floor.

--

           Cynthia stepped inside the classroom, forlorn. Her morning dance practice wasn't enough to raise her spirits. The castle in her dream didn't do much either, no matter how magnificent and surreal it was. Luckily for her, though, her mom's partner was still asleep when she started preparing to go to school. 

             She ignored the vaguely aware gazes pinned on her and thought about Selena. How is she right now? 

           "Is this seat taken?" she asked the boy next to it. He was wearing the school uniform, three buttons loose. His hair reminded her of classic Boy Band groups, black, thick, and wavy. The boy smiled at her and shook his head. He has an easy smile that Cynthia warmed up to right away. The dimple reminded her of Selena. Whenever her friend smiles, her cheekbones get more prominent. She sat down and sighed heavily.

           "Hey, what's with the long face this early in the morning?" asked the boy. "By the way, my name's Dylan, Dylan Perez."

           "I'm Cynthia Dantes," she answered weakly. "Don't mind my distress. I'm just worried my best friend won't get any friends now that we're apart."

           He grinned.

          Cynthia shook her head in shame. "Did I just open up to you within the minute I met you?"

           "Yep, you just did," he said, nodding and pouting with mocked sadness.

           Cynthia chewed the inside of her lip, trying her best to suppress a smile. But Dylan's face creased with too much-faked sadness that she ended up grabbing his face and pushing him away, laughing.

           "So this best friend of yours, is she as pretty as you?" he asked, and Cynthia raised a brow, grinning.

           "Are you trying to hit on me?" she asked smugly.

           "Nope," Dylan shook his head like he was in a seizure. "Nuh-uh, absolutely not!"

           She can't help but hit Dylan on his arm. "Aw, girl! You are brutal! If you want to be friends, hands-off, okay? Hands-off."

           She laughed. Dylan mock-glared at her while rubbing his arm.

           "Ahem," someone cleared his throat, which caught their attention. Cynthia leaned back on her seat and slid as far down as she could to make herself inconspicuous while Dylan decided to shove his face on his desk. The professor glared at them, his arms closed and head shaking slowly.

           As soon as the professor addressed the entire class, Cynthia glanced at Dylan and saw him chewing his pen. The course was uneventful after their little scene. As soon as class was over, she texted Selena, asking her if her class was over too. She received a reply saying, 'An hour longer than yours."

           "Yo, Dylan!" called one of their classmates. "Care to introduce me to your new friend?"

           Cynthia turned to him, smiling. That classmate of theirs, tall and cute, flashed a debonair smile at her. Dylan turned to him with a knowing smile on his lips.

           "Jon Castro," he chirped. "How's the basketball career going? Been on a roll lately?" He gave this nervous wimpy chuckle which Cynthia found odd.

           "Everything’s fine. How's your sister doing? She told me about your odd… hobbies, by the way," Jon said, and before Dylan could answer, he'd already turned to Cynthia. "Hey, sweetheart."

           Cynthia's smile vanished. Jon Castro continued to flash his well-practiced suave smile at her, which was starting to lose its appeal. It also didn't sit well with her how this guy brushed Dylan off so carelessly.

           "Dylan," she turned to her seatmate and grabbed his wrists. "I forgot to ask Mr. Reyes about the… About the thing, I forgot to ask. So, I guess we need to go now."

           "Oh," Dylan raised a brow reluctantly. "Do I really have to go, ah--- "

           She'd already taken the liberty of pulling him away from Jon Castro's presence.

Cynthia could practically see what Dylan was thinking, judging by the devastated look on his face. She then went on and dragged him still.

           "Cynthia, wait," he tried to take his arm back, but her grip was viselike. He looked around and noticed the students staring at them, and he muttered, "Yeah, sure. Feel free to ignore my silent appeal for freedom."

           Cynthia ignored his very audible sigh of defeat. She continued to weave her way across the crowd of students milling the halls. She heard him mutter about how it's not every day he gets to get whisked away by a gorgeous-looking girl. A girl who practically looked like a princess from a faraway land and that the least he could do was enjoy the prerogative of being in the hands of a fair maiden.

            Someone even whistled his support.

           "I can't believe you know a person like that," Cynthia started the moment they were far enough not to be overheard by the person in question. Dylan frowned and shook his head once.

           "What do you mean by that?" Dylan asked. Cynthia halted and turned to him, arms crossed. "Oh. By that, you mean. The notorious Cassanova Jon Castro, who gets all the girls? Yeah. I know him. So?"

           "He feels… off," she said. "And he called me sweetheart."

          "He calls all the girls ‘sweetheart’," he retorted. "I tried to call a girl sweetheart once, and she practically screamed at my face." Dylan cringed at the memory. "Back then, I was so sure I'd be the youngest guy about to get sued for sexual harassment. I was thirteen."

           "See?" Cynthia's head shook smugly. "He's too full of himself."

         "Of course, he is," Dylan said matter-of-factly. "He was a basketball superstar when we were in high school. Every girl wants him, and every guy wants to be him."

           "Wait, don't tell me you want to be like that?" she asked him like an accusation. Dylan looked at her in a manner, saying, 'Duh?'

           "Well, in case you haven't noticed," he raised both eyebrows at her. "I'm a guy."

           "Can't you tell the wrong sort at all?" she asked.

         "Castro may be smug, but as I said, he's famous," Dylan told her. "There are perks in being friends with famous people---"

           "Hey, Cynthia!" called a girl. The two of them turned to the person who called. Dylan raised a brow, impressed at what he saw. Three girls who were all definitely out of his league were walking toward them.

           "Harriet!" Cynthia squirmed and ran to the girl. They hugged each other, and then finally, they let go. "Paula! Vive!" She hugged the other two girls next.

           Dylan strolled towards them.

           "How are you?" asked the girl who called her. They must've seen something on her face, and their response was to look around. "Whoa, Selena's not with you?"

            "She… She doesn't go here," Cynthia answered, biting her lower lip and shoving a hand through her hair.

        They stared at Cynthia like she started sprouting horns or something. Cynthia chuckled nervously.

           "It's hard to believe you two can exist without the other," said Vive, gulping and eyes unfocused. The girl took a small step back, looking more threatened than worried. Dylan found it odd.

           "If you want help or people to hang out with," Harriet took Cynthia's hands. "Give me a call, okay?"

           Cynthia nodded and turned to him. "Oh, hey! This is Dylan, a classmate of mine. Dylan, these are Harriet, Paula, and Vive."

           Dylan casually wiped his hand on his pants and shook hands with each of them. He pretended he didn't notice them checking him out. So, he simply smiled, and they smiled back at him. They bid each other goodbyes and see you later.

           "Good luck, Dylan," Harriet echoed as they walked away, and his smile vanished. The tone of her voice brought a bewildered frown to his face.

On their way to the cafeteria, Cynthia's mind traveled back and forth from Selena to the bizarre dream she had about a floating castle and a blast of light. She was fidgeting and humming every once in a while.

           "If you're so worried about her, why don't you go see her?" asked Dylan. He must've seen the shadow clouding her face.

           "I don't want her to think of me as some kind of doting mother," she told him. "Knowing her, she's probably the one worried sick about me."

           "Why?" Dylan asked and smiled at the incoming students. No one seemed to notice his futile attempt to be friendly.

           "Well…" her voice trailed off when attention was stolen by the volleyball heading towards their direction. Dylan was expecting her to squirm and duck at the sight of a mad ball heading towards her, but he witnessed the opposite. She simply caught it and hit it in a perfect serve back to its owner.

            "Hey!" the owner of the ball, who was a couple of feet away, yelled. "Thanks!”

           "Let's go?" she turned her attention back to him, grinning. There was nothing to be worried about as far as Dylan sees it.