All Chapters of The Boyfriend App : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

They’re in a vast forest. There’s a mini-map on the upper-right hand corner along with a bunch of other interactive icons but the map only shows areas they’ve passed and the rest is still shrouded in darkness. It seems a complete map is contingent on their actual firsthand knowledge of all the terrain, which, Mrs. Lapuz admits, is kind of reasonable but at the same time counter-intuitive in real life. She also thinks the forest looks European based on the trees and bushes, which are nowhere to be found in tropical Philippines. For instance, she can see actual Christmas trees minus the lights. Her perspective is bird’s-eye view. The viewing angle isn’t exactly overhead but sort of a combination of 3-D top-down and side-view, so she can see most things going on around her character and cover most of the “battlefield”, which is somewhat reassuring because it minimizes the possibility of anything surprising her. Talking about characters, Mrs. Lapuz can understand why Kate likes this Kayz

Nathan’s sched that morning is one-on-one tutorial with Kate. But first, he drops by the Main House, where all the cooking, dining and laundry take place, to fill his sporty water bottle at the water cooler. Then, he makes a detour round the kitchen bustling with maids and campers assigned for today’s lunch. Apart from Ms. Perfect’s Adulting 101 group class, which teaches politics, budgeting, tax filing, home repair etc, the only other class that’s mandatory for everybody is “Meal Management”. The campers are assigned by rotation to manage lunch and dinner, which Ms. Perfect claims is a system that has been imported all the way from Japanese grade schools. The campers assist the hired maids in designing the menu for the whole week and budgeting for market day. Of course campers are not allowed to go to market themselves, and the budget is limited so they can’t exactly schedule Hamburg steak every day. In contrast, there’s a lot of chayote, eggplants and tilapia in the campers’ regular

“Anyway,” Nathan says, “all I’m saying is, having a terrible nickname means your parents love you. And the cringier, the better.” “Yeah, I know,” Kate says, sighing again. “How about you? What did your parents call you?” “Nathaniel,” Nathan replies with a shrug. “And always in this disappointed, icy tone like: ‘Nathaniel’. Brr.” There’s a bit of an awkward silence after that, with Kate feeling sorry again for Nathan’s domestic troubles. “And then what happened?” Nathan prods Kate, as though it was perfectly fine and he had gotten over always being called by his complete first name. “What’s 'The Look'?” “Oh, yeah. I mean, when pa said: ‘Kate, listen to your mother’, that meant that they already had a discussion about the whole thing and I had no say on the matter – in all actuality. So I switched tactics: ‘It’s too expensive. Where are you gonna get the money?’ “And ma goes: ‘You let us worry about that, Kate. All right?’ as she was bending over to wipe the coffee table. She then

The problem with Kate is she’s overthinking the whole thing. For her, the Double Vision Board is like those English essay-writing tests where everybody comes up with the best-sounding lies to answer a question like "If you could change one thing in this world, what would you change?" or "Describe the person who has had the greatest influence on you." The teacher always tells you there’s no right or wrong answer but the fact that there’s a grade attached to it makes her feel that there should be a catch somewhere. Many of Kate’s classmates at 11-Narra have perfected the art of concocting (and memorizing) the most suitable lies, whichever’s shorter and more effective in getting the grade. Kate’s conscience, unfortunately, always requires her to do things the hard way by writing an honest answer, her composition exceeding the allotted space below the typed question, snaking along the edge of the questionnaire, disappearing and continuing on the back page, seen off by a "Cont." label and

“The student passenger keeps shouting at you,” Ms. Perfect continues her psychology exercise and Kate continues her daydream. “‘Hurry up, Miss Driver, I’m running late and we have a quiz on fifth period. Hurry please. Hurry, hurry, hurry.’ “The student also looks stressed overall. She’s got thick eye bags and her hair’s still dripping fresh out of the shower, a comb stuck in the tangles. She’s eating a sandwich with one hand and writing a school report with the other. Loose-leaf paper is spilling out of her binder. “The second suspicious passenger is a female dwarf.” “You mean like Kili in The Hobbit?” Kate asks without opening her eyes. Even as she does, she imagines a female version of the hot dwarf prince, wearing a medieval leather jerkin with royal embroidery. Automatically, she has assigned Tauriel’s elven face, but with shaggy hair and a bit of sideburns. “Yes,” Ms Perfect replies, “but less fantasy-related and more, er, congenital.” “Oh, I see…” Kate changes the dwarf’s