Chapter 21
The next day, I visit the guidance counselor’s office so I can request my sister’s permission to re-create another part of our parents’ love story.
If the soiree was able to make Pa solid, maybe joining Battle of the Bands would finally make my family see him.
Re-creating the moment Pa asked Ma to prom must rank pretty high in memories that would trigger a ghost’s resurrection.
Even though Saint Francis is the one hosting the Battle of the Bands event, Saint Agnes has some weird rule where we have to secure admin permission before participating in other schools’ programs. My sister had to sign five permission slips for Julia last year since she got invited to the proms of five different all-boys schools.
Achi narrows her eyes at me when I take the seat across from her desk. “Are you trying to get out of chemistry again?”
“No.”
“You’re in trouble with Ma again?”
“No.”
Well, not currently. I think.
I take out the permission slip from my bag and place it on Achi’s desk. “Do you mind reviewing this for me?
“Thanks,” I add when Achi picks up the paper.
Suspicion still clouds her face. “You’ve been acting so weird.”
It’s because I’ve forgotten how to act around my sister.
Whenever I want to make a joke or snap back at her when she tells me I’m doing something wrong again, I just keep thinking, My sister thinks I’m a star. This morning, she accused me of eating the star-apple fruit she left in the fridge and my brain thought Achi was calling me “star apple.”
How am I supposed to get mad at her when she has that hanging over me?!
“Since when did you have a band?” Achi asks after reading my permission slip.
“Trying something new.”
Do you still think I’m a star?
Achi frowns at the print. “Your band name is The Band?”
“It’s very new.” So since I know that Achi secretly thinks I sparkle onstage, I’ve been very confident that she’d automatically sign off on my band proposal.
It’s my fault that I forgot that my sister is still my sister.
“I can’t approve of a band that only has one person,” she protests.
“It’s not just one person,” I say. “Kayla is with me.”
“Kayla plays an instrument?”
“Yes … her voice.”
Achi tilts her head, throwing me her resting constipated face. “Saint Francis also has guidelines that require all participating bands to have at least one Saint Francis student.”
“Yeah, Seph is playing guitar.” I peek at the form, bullshitting out of my pants. “I must’ve forgotten to write that there.”
Achi sighs and puts down the form. “Nika, these interschool activities aren’t meant for you to flirt.”
“I’m not signing up to flirt,” I argue, feeling my face go hot at the baseless accusation. “Also, you literally sign off on my classmates so they can flirt at prom! My request is for a celebration of music.”
She answers me with a scoff. “I heard what happened at the soiree.”
I stop short. Could Achi possibly be talking about Pa? Does she secretly see his ghost too?
Then she says, “Heard your classmates talking about you and Seph.”
Again, big fan of chismis—probably my favorite form of entertainment.
However, gossip is always better when I’m not the topic of conversation.
Are people seriously talking about the ice game between me and Seph?
Are they talking about it over at Saint Francis too?
I get that we go to Catholic schools, but surely, there must be more scandalous things happening.
“Ma was so happy that you were actually participating in something for once. What am I going to tell her if she finds out you were making out with Auntie Baby’s son in their living room?”
Excuse me?
“What?! All we did was play the ice game.”
Achi pauses. “You were making out with ice?”
“No!” I say, and have to explain yet again the mechanics of this ridiculous ice game.
Her mouth’s pinched when she inspects my face. “So … you and Seph aren’t MOMOL buddies?”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Your other classmates use that term,” Achi says in defense, and her cheeks go pink. “They say it’s like friends with benefits. The benefits being making out—”
“No.” I shut her down before she explains further. “We’re not buddies, no friends with benefits. Absolutely no benefits to our friendship.
“You need to get better at gossiping,” I tell Achi.
She scoffs at this and goes back to reading my slip. Thankfully, clearing the air makes my sister more cooperative about my Battle of the Bands inquiry.
After she asks more logistical questions, she suddenly says, “If there is something going on with Seph, you can … talk to me about it.”
“Achi, for the last time, we didn’t make out in Auntie Baby’s living room.”
“No, not that,” she says, and corrects herself. “I mean, also that. But maybe not yet. You’re so young and there are more appropriate places than our aunties’ homes—”
“Are you okay?” I ask when her words stop making sense.
Achi sighs. “I’m your sister, so we’re supposed to share things.”
“We don’t share.”
“We share!” she insists.
“Okay.” I fold my arms. “Have you had any MOMOL buddies lately?”
Her cheeks flush even harder at that. “Again, you’re too young.”
“Cool. Maybe when I’m thirty, we can try sharing then.”
Achi weighs my words and leans back on her desk chair. After a beat, she slides her phone toward me.
“Oh my god. Are you letting me read your messages?”
“Sira.” Achi rolls her eyes and makes sure I don’t scroll past the email on the screen.
“Remember that psychology program in Florida that I applied to for fun?”
“Yeah?” I focus my gaze on her phone, hoping Achi doesn’t hear how fast my heart starts beating from reading the University of Florida offer letter.
“They answered back today that they had a slot open,” Achi says like it’s nothing. “Funny, right?”
I catch the huge Congratulations on the letter, the part where they rave about how Jackie Ilagan was one of this year’s most impressive applicants, the section about getting offered funding and a scholarship. My eyes then search my sister’s. “But you’re not going…?”
“No, Nika.” She breathes out and takes back her phone. “This is me sharing. You can tell me what’s going on with you. Even the small things.”
“You sure you don’t want to share anything about your love life?”
Achi groans and signs my slip. “Don’t make me regret this.”
When I stand and make my way out of the guidance office, I catch Achi still scrolling through the letter on her phone. It’s suddenly so obvious that her applying to this program was never a joke.
I wasn’t telling the truth with Pa earlier. I don’t think my sister grew out of the dreams in her vision board.