CHAPTER SEVEN
Michael
One week down, eleven more to go.
I swear, time moves slower in Magnolia Heights. I’m half-convinced a witch (Kate Cruz) is manipulating the time.
My phone is filled with messages from my teammates asking how and where I am.
I contemplate telling them that I’m hiding out in a small town with nosy people.
But if I do, someone’s bound to visit, and that’s one paparazzi photo away from blowing up Heather’s entire PR plan of disappearing just long enough that, when the public finally sees me again, they think I’ve been quietly living a simple, humble life.
So, I keep it vague and tell them I’m just resting for a while. They won’t believe me of course. But they know well enough not to prod.
Our team is close-knit. Basketball in the Philippines is not like other countries where you grow up playing for your state or city.
Here, corporations own the teams (and are named after themselves), so we can get drafted anywhere.
And there’s really not much loyalty in hometown teams, because, well, there are no hometown teams. You just go where the contracts take you.
But when it comes to the national team, it’s a different story. No matter where we play during the season, we always come back to the same squad. One day we’re trash-talking each other on the court, the next we’re wearing the same jersey, acting like best friends. It’s weird, but it works.
Right now, I’m avoiding them. Because I don’t even know who I am these days. All I want is to leave this place. This nosy town. The preschool teacher who thinks she knows everything. All of it.
I sigh, tossing my phone on the sofa to go shoot some hoops in my backyard.
I had the court installed yesterday. As I make my way out, I can hear music blasting next door at the Cruz residence.
Right. The barbecue thing Manang Linda invited me to.
Weird, because Kate never mentioned it to me the whole time we spent at Little League.
And she lives there. Obviously she doesn’t want me there.
So it would probably be best if I don’t show up.
I stretch a little, shake out my arms, and turn toward my basketball, only to stop short.
Something pink glistens in the sunlight, right on top of my ball.
I take a cautious step forward. Oh no. Are those… ants?
I get closer, squinting. Yep. That’s a swarm of ants. And they’re having a full-on feast on what was clearly, at some point, a cupcake. The icing has melted into a sugary mess, dripping down the rubber surface of my ball.
Stuck right in the middle of the carnage is a note, slightly crumpled, but still very readable.
‘Enjoy your cupcake, Kindle thief!’
I blink and stare at the note for a long moment, weighing my options. I could just wipe the ball clean and move on with my life. I could pretend this never happened.
Or…
I could retaliate.
A slow grin creeps onto my face. Yeah. That sounds more fun. It’s time for her to get her Kindle back, anyway.
I pick it up from where it’s been gathering dust on my shelf.
I crack my knuckles and get to work rebuilding her library.
First, the books. I scour the depths of the internet for the strangest, most mind-boggling titles imaginable.
The Art of Raising Exotic Chickens? Downloaded.
How to Communicate with Ghosts: A Beginner’s Guide?
Oh, absolutely. The Billionaire Alien’s Accidental Mermaid Bride?
A classic. I don’t stop there. I throw in a cookbook that only features jello-based recipes, a self-help guide called Manifesting Your Inner Possum, and a three-part series on the benefits of speaking to plants.
I sit back and admire my handiwork. By the time I’m done, her Kindle looks like it belongs to an exorcist with a farm and a deep, unsettling love for gelatin.
But why stop there?
I make a beeline to my desk, where my fan merch samples are tucked away.
I rifle through the stash until I find exactly what I need: stickers of my own face.
Not just any stickers, though—these are premium, over-the-top, ridiculous stickers.
Some are zoomed-in, cursed close-ups of me.
Others are me with thumbs up, grinning like a politician.
I peel off her original cute stickers and replace them, one by one, with my masterpiece.
I lean back, admiring my work. Beautiful. Devious. A true work of art. I wrap it up in a bag, and make my way next door.
Technically, I was invited.
“There he is!” A chorus of voices scream.
Suddenly, I’m the main attraction in a gathering of all the titas in the village who have no concept of boundaries and personal space.
In mere seconds, I’m being poked, patted, aggressively pinched in the cheek like I’m five.
Some even go as far as giving unsolicited comments on my last game.
I smile and wave awkwardly at every person I see, waiting for someone I recognize.
“Welcome to the village, MVP!” A woman comes up to me and introduces herself as Freida. Beside her is a balding man named Jim. Probably her husband. Or boyfriend. Or brother, I don’t know.
After rounds and rounds of greetings, I finally reach the table where the food is.
There’s nothing like a Filipino banquet.
I personally never had one with my family, because I only have Tricia and Polly, but I’ve attended some of my friends’ parties.
And it’s always the same spread—lumpiang shanghai, kare-kare, lechon, pastries, dessert, and heaping trays of rice.
I sit down and help myself to about three servings until someone comes up to me.
“You done eating your heart out?” I whirl, expecting Kate, but instead, it’s someone who looks exactly like her. But with pink hair. Did she dye her hair pink?
“Kate?” I ask, confused.
“Oh, right, you’re new new,” the woman says. “I’m Haley, Kate’s twin sister.”
That explains it.
“Hi. I’m Michael.”
“I know, golden boy. If you’re done, I just want to ask if you wanna come hang out with the cool kids?” I look at her with confusion as she adds, “Unless of course you want to stay within the circle of senior citizens and discuss your favorite brand of ibuprofen.”
Before I can respond, someone comes up behind Haley. “I can’t find it,” he says. The guy has golden brown hair, and he’s pushing his glasses up his nose, like he’s so sick of her.
“Richard, use your eyes for once,” Haley says. “It’s in my dresser.”
“Exactly, genius. Your dresser. Also it’s your deck of cards. Why don’t you get it?” The guy—Richard—replies.
“Because, genius, I’m busy inviting a new friend.” Haley gestures to me.
“Shit, bro, I didn’t see you there.” Richard says, giving me a pat on the arm. “Big fan.”
“He’s as tall as the ceiling and you didn’t see him?” Haley looks at Richard in disbelief.
Richard looks at her and says, “Yes, your massive head was in the way.”
Haley playfully punches his arm and they both disappear in their little fight. Both of them walk out before Haley looks behind her and says, “Oops, sorry, Mike, let’s go!”
I leave the paper bag on their table near the door with a note that says “For Kate.” I’m still as confused as ever when we walk out of their house. “Where are we going?” I ask.
“Lily’s,” they say in unison.
“Um… the convenience store? Why?”
“Because that’s how it works around here,” Richard replies. “We stay in the host house for scrumptious meals, then drift away to Lily’s for drinks, and leave the oldies there.”
“Before you ask,” Haley adds, “They don’t want us drinking and making noise while they talk about things that are none of their business.”
“Sometimes, they talk about the rumors you start, Haley,” Richard says flatly.
Haley shrugs. “Didn’t say I don’t enjoy being in people’s business.”
The bell to Lily’s rings as we enter, and they were right. All the people my age are here.
“Hey, basketball dude!”
I barely have time to react before a short-haired woman barrels toward me, grinning like we’re old friends. She raises her fist, and out of pure instinct, I bump it with mine. She lets out a laugh, looking me up and down. “You are so tall, it’s scary.”
“Bonbon, since when do you fist bump?”
Another voice cuts in, and I glance up to see a guy standing nearby, watching us with amused curiosity. He’s dressed in a crisp button-down that somehow still manages to look casual. He steps forward, offering me a handshake. “Hello, I’m Ryan. That’s my wife, Bon. She’s a menace.”
Bon gasps. “Excuse you, I’m a delight.”
Ryan doesn’t look convinced. Neither does Haley, who snorts and mutters, “Yeah, okay.”
“Welcome to the neighborhood, uh…” Bon says, and Ryan is about to whisper to her when she says, “No, shh, I got this…” She smiles nervously and says, “Miguel? No, Michael! Yeah!” Bon claps as she returns to the lounge.
Ryan shakes his head at her but looks at me with a knowing grin. “You’ll get used to her.”
I don’t know if I will, actually.
Richard claps a hand on my shoulder. “So, drinks?”
I hesitate, scanning the surroundings. This is already more social interaction than I’d planned for today. But weirdly, I don’t hate it. There’s no awkward small talk, no invasive questions. They treat me like a regular guy instead of some new specimen to analyze. It’s… nice.
My gaze drifts to the laptop sitting open on the center table, and on the screen are two people who look like they just stepped out of a magazine spread.
The woman has long brown hair and sharp eyes.
The guy next to her is just as striking—short black hair, a well-defined jawline, and tattoos trailing down one arm.
They’re both smiling and waving at me, and for some reason, that makes them even more intimidating.
I offer a hesitant wave back.
Before I can ask, Bon gestures toward the screen like it’s obvious. “Oh, that’s Emily and my brother Joshua. They live in New York.”
“Which means,” Emily says, rubbing her eyes, “that it’s five in the morning over here.”
Richard is still waiting for my agreement on the drinks, but Haley says, “Richard, don’t just throw him into the deep end like that. He’s new. We should ease him in.” She pauses, then adds, “Start him off with something light. Maybe just a single shot of something dangerous.”
“Ooooh, yes,” Bon says.
Ryan sighs. “Bon.”
“What?” She gestures vaguely. “It’s called hospitality.”
Richard, looking way too enthusiastic, nods in agreement. “Yeah, I like that. Initiation shot.”
I narrow my eyes. “You guys do this to everyone who moves here?”
Bon shrugs. “Only the ones we like.” And then she adds, “Also, no one really moves here, so this is like a national holiday for us.”
Laughter ripples through the group as Richard sets a shot glass in front of me. I don’t ask what it is—I already know I’m going to regret it.
Bon claps her hands together. “I wish Kate were here!”
“Kate would probably stop us from doing this to Michael,” Richard says.
“Yeah, no doubt.” Bon nods. “She’d hit us with a whole lecture on why kindness matters.”
“Kindness?” I repeat, skeptical.
“Yeah, my sister is the nicest person in the world. Too nice for her own good,” Haley says, like it’s an indisputable fact.
I blink. “Kate? Curly-haired, floral-dress Kate?”
Haley frowns. “Uh… yeah? Why?”
I could tell them what I’m thinking–that Kate is not kind. That she’s the most terrifying person I’ve ever met, a mastermind of psychological warfare wrapped in florals and a deceptive smile. But I don’t tell them.
Instead, I just shake my head and mutter, “Nothing.”
I grab the shot glass, eyeing it warily. “Okay, what is this?”
Richard smirks, leaning in like he’s about to reveal some ancient, forbidden secret. “If I tell you, it ruins the fun.”
I exhale sharply and decide to get this over with. Lifting the glass, I knock the shot back in one go.
Big mistake. The liquid scorches my throat, burning all the way down like I just swallowed gasoline lit on fire. I choke, my entire body seizing up in protest.
Joshua smirks at the screen. “Welcome to the club.”
I cough, wheezing. “What the hell was that?”
Richard looks way too pleased. “Homemade.”
“Homemade what?” I rasp.
Ryan sighs, handing me a glass of water. “It’s best if you don’t ask.”
And then, just as I reach for it, the bell dings. I look behind me and see Kate entering the store.