Chapter 25
I don’t consider myself a sore loser. It’s not sore losing when we were robbed from winning.
The Battle of the Bands judges wanted audience participation? Check. The whole auditorium was singing along during every chorus of our set.
Stage presence? Check. Did they not see how breezy and dreamy Kayla’s doo-doo-doos were?! I bet they couldn’t learn how to sing in tune if they were given a week.
It factor? We had a literal ghost join us onstage. We had an it factor from a different dimension!
The judges not only deprived us of an award, they also had the audacity to rationalize why we didn’t deserve an award.
When they declared the band after us as the winner, one judge added, “We actually had a hard time picking between Mercury Retrograde and The Band. But since The Band had to redo their song, it was obvious who our champion tonight should be.”
He wagged his finger in our direction before saying, “Lesson for all you kids: Life doesn’t give you any redos.”
If Mariah Carey had to clear her throat and redo the beginning of a song before delivering an otherworldly vocal performance, would these judges also rob her in broad daylight?!
“Didn’t you say we could just ‘wing’ the performance?” Kayla asks after she dragged us back to this forsaken auditorium.
“I’m not upset,” I tell her again.
“Then why are you stabbing the mango?”
She glances at the spoon I’m holding with a death grip. I smile and let go, showing Kayla that I’m calmly enjoying the fruit basket she brought for our “celebration.”
But really. Why are we even celebrating right now?
! Last night, Kayla sent a message that we should meet at the Saint Francis auditorium before class since it’s our last school day before Christmas break and we should celebrate a “great performance.” She also brought another one of her parents’ fruit baskets with her for us to all share.
I was going to reply that I wasn’t in the mood or some BS excuse about catching up on all the work before Christmas break when I saw Seph’s message.
sounds good. see you guys then!
Keep in mind: This is the first time he’s messaged me since we held hands.
Actually, no. I’ve decided that I remembered that moment incorrectly.
Seph and I never held hands! We barely make eye contact as it is.
Honestly, the next time I run into him in the condo elevator, I can’t promise that I’d recognize him.
And as I’m trying to relax and enjoy a mango while we’re seated on the stage, Kayla whispers to me.
“Is this because of your dad?”
The mango skin breaks when I jab it too hard with my spoon.
“It’s not!” I snap. Was I disappointed that my family still couldn’t see my dad after the performance?
When Achi and Ma woke up this morning without any mention of Pa’s spirit?
Of course I was. But the key to success is pushing through disappointment.
I also expected the performance to have some effect on Ma, yet she was on the phone with Dr. Derrick all night talking about scheduling some appointment, most likely something wedding-related.
When Pa told me that he wanted to stay home today to look through more of the photos and letters that were stashed in his piano bench, I was completely calm. I’m definitely not panicking that it’s mid-December, which means we only have mere weeks until his forty days are up.
Then Seph asks, “Is that a book behind the bananas?”
Kayla is peeling one of the oranges when she says, “Dani must’ve left it there.”
“Dani? Like Danielle Bautista?”
Kayla nods.
“Like class president, future dictator Dani?”
She looks up from the orange in her hands to swoop in as Dani’s defense. “She’s actually a big supporter of democracy.”
I choose to leave the discussion about Dani’s politics for another day. “Why would her book be in one of your parents’ offertory baskets?”
“Oh, I didn’t get the basket from my parents,” she explains. “The fruits are from Dani.”
Seph and I exchange looks then, and I momentarily forget that I’m supposed to be ignoring him.
I must not be the only one who thinks sending a fruit basket sounds like flirting.
Didn’t Ma’s whole thing with Dr. Derrick start because she got so turned on when he gave her a care package?
In a Venn diagram of romantic gestures, I’m pretty sure care packages and fruit baskets go in the same circle.
I should know if there’s something going on with Kayla and Dani, right? I mean, Kayla’s my best friend and I’m always very aware of Dani’s presence.
“Dani gave you a basket?” Seph clarifies.
“Yeah,” Kayla says like it’s no big deal.
“There’s an open forum at our Honesty Club meetings so she knows how nervous I was about singing,” Kayla shares, her face starting to drip with kilig.
“I think I mentioned once how it’d be so nice to be given a fruit basket, and I guess she remembered.
The fruit basket is to congratulate our band. ”
I thought Kayla only reserved this giddy look on her face for Kathryn Bernardo. She looks like she has a whole banana stuck in her cheeks from how hard she’s smiling.
Momentarily pausing my silent treatment toward Seph, I tell him to pass the book in the basket. It’s a copy of To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before—a movie that Kayla has been obsessed with since the dawn of time. When I turn to the page that’s flagged, I notice the writing on the bookmark.
Orange you glad you joined Honesty Club? I am. Always thought you were one in a melon :)
Below some fruit doodles, there’s a question written in the same handwriting.
Wanna go to prom together?
Oh. My. God.
“Kayla!” I exclaim, and she almost drops her orange. “You got a promposal!”
“What! Where?” Kayla scans the auditorium instead of the book I’m holding.
I show her the bookmark so it’s loud and clear. “Dani asked you to prom!”
And it’s like I can almost hear the fireworks going off in Kayla’s head. Her voice is so quiet when she asks, “Are you sure it’s Dani?”
My hand turns over to the back of the bookmark that’s labeled Property of Danielle Bautista, Saint Agnes Student Council President.
Then the banana-size smile envelops Kayla’s whole face. “Can’t believe that Dani is a banger for me.”
“A bang what?” Seph asks, and I tell him it’s an inside joke.
Kayla keeps gazing at the bookmark, but I catch how her shoulders start to slump. “I can’t believe I missed the promposal.”
“But you have prom to look forward to,” Seph interjects.
Her shoulders slump even farther.
“My parents are never going to let me go,” she says, her hands fiddling with the orange peels. “And I don’t know how Saint Agnes feels about two girls going together too…”
Right. This is the same school where Sister Marissa freaked out when one of our classmates dared to show up with a pixie cut. The next day, our school handbook had a new rule that students should have hairstyles that displayed “proper feminine expression”—whatever that means.
“We can figure something out,” I insist.
“The admin said that students are allowed to go in groups, and if I go with you, three people already make up a group,” I suggest. “Dani memorizes the school handbook inside and out, so she, of all people, would know how to get away with things. And as for your parents, just say that Dani’s in choir. She goes to Mass all the time too.”
I’m brainstorming more ideas when Kayla says, “You said you would rather get braces again than go to prom.”
“I was exaggerating—”
“And you hate Dani.”
“I don’t hate Dani,” I defend myself. “There are just people in this world that I’d prefer to take in small doses. Dani happens to be one of them.”
“You also said you would beatbox while wearing a bikini before setting foot inside prom.”
“Kayla.” I quickly cut her off and ignore the smirk that materialized on Seph’s face when Kayla mentioned the bikini idea. “Ignore what I said before.”
“It’s just…” She pauses and her eyes mist over. “You would really go to prom with me?”
“I’m not the one who gave you the fruit basket,” I remind her.
I then feel the need to add, “True or false. Best friends, right?”
“True.” That gets me her biggest smile yet.
“Oh my god.” Kayla suddenly sits up. “I need to answer Dani.”
“Saying yes in person is better,” Seph says.
“Why don’t you tell her in class?” I suggest.
Kayla suddenly gets shy. “We’re actually meeting after this.
“Dani and I sometimes catch up before school, whenever we don’t have band practice,” she admits.
Seph does a low whistle. “You’ve been having busy mornings.”
“Do you think I should prompose to her back?” she asks Seph. “I could sing to her, or maybe you can sing to her?”
“Moseph doesn’t have to sing,” I answer before he plans on doing another Ed Sheeran cover. People really need to know that there are other romantic gestures besides serenading.
Kayla’s face is still emanating stress. Her expression is the same one she had when her mom once told her the only movie she’ll ever need to watch is the documentary she showed us about the Bible.
But then she listens when Seph says, “All you need is to say yes.
“She clearly likes you enough to ask you, and she seems like she gets you too.” He gestures toward the fruit basket, apparently Kayla’s love language.
Kayla processes this while eating the last of her orange slices. She wipes her hands on her skirt and stands with conviction. “I’m going to say yes.”
Seph and I both whoop, but Kayla hesitates. “Should I bring her a fruit basket too?”
“Go, go!” I push her before any doubt creeps back in again. “No serenading, no fruit baskets, just go say yes already.”
It takes another dozen back-and-forths before Kayla finally takes off—which leaves me and Seph alone in the auditorium.
Okay, now I can finally resume ignoring him. Once we finish packing our things, Moseph King will go back to being the boy who happens to live in the same building. Nothing more.
Although his constant watching isn’t helping. At all.
Every move I make around the stage, I can feel Seph’s eyes following me. Plus, he keeps opening and closing his mouth, never saying anything. Even if I was planning on ignoring anything that comes out of his mouth regardless, it’s still so frustrating.
My patience reaches its limit when I feel him watching me pick up trash.
“Can you stop?”
“What?” he asks, as if I’m the one acting weird.
“Quit staring.”
Seph makes a face at me. “Feel mo naman.” He brushes it off while sneaking yet another glance.
I groan and resume keeping him out of my sight and mind.
Then he says, “I thought about calling you yesterday.”
Hearing this makes my heart thump in my chest, and I tell myself to quit it. This boy isn’t worth all that. Holding hands with Seph never happened, remember?
Still, I ask, “Yeah? What about?”
“How we deserved a prize over Mercury Retrograde.”
“Right? Right?” Him bringing it up gets me going. “Did you see how their singer was mumbling through the lyrics?”
“No one in the audience was singing along during their set!”
“And they performed a Beatles song,” I say. “If you can’t get people to sing along with you during a Beatles song, then that’s a you problem.”
The sides of his eyes crinkle when he grins. “You were this worked up over not getting the solo to The Little Mermaid too.”
“‘Part of Your World’ is Ariel’s song,” I state the fact yet again. “It doesn’t make sense that Direk Myka gave it to the other mermaids just because the parents wanted to see their kids sing.”
“So you enjoyed performing again, huh?”
Seph smiles with his whole face, and honestly, it’s getting annoying. Like, people aren’t supposed to look cute when they’re super smiley! Having his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunched up that much must give him premature wrinkles.
“Did you hear that whoever won BOB would perform at the Saint Agnes prom?” Seph then asks.
I scoff. “Glad that’s not us then.”
The dread sets in when I remember my promise to Kayla. “How long do you think I have to stay? If I leave prom after five minutes, would Kayla notice?”
“Is this before or after your bikini beatboxing performance?”
He’s still laughing when I kick the back of his leg.
“It won’t be that bad.” His foot bumps the side of mine. “Come on. You should at least get some of the food.”
“Fine,” I relent. “Ten minutes then.”
We’re interrupted when my alarm for school goes off. As I’m grabbing my backpack, I hear Seph ask, “Want me to go with you?
“You said that the school would allow Kayla and Dani to go together if they were in a group,” he adds. “Maybe it’d be more convincing if you were four people.”
I pause, still processing his words.
“Are you asking me to my prom?”
“No,” he says immediately. “I mean, I’m just offering … In case you wanted someone else there while Kayla and Dani have their moment.”
“I don’t mind being on my own,” I tell him.
“I know.”
“And you can’t ask someone to their prom,” I argue. “That’s not how it works.”
“That’s why I’m just offering.”
He blinks; I blink. Seph stands in the empty auditorium in silence; I stand in the empty auditorium in silence.
… Does this mean Seph is a banger for me too?
Nope. No way. Here we go jumping to conclusions again. Seph is just probably looking for an excuse to get into the Saint Agnes prom and flirt with my classmates.
“You’re offering, not asking,” I clarify.
“Clearly.”
I fold my arms over my chest, covering whatever noise my heart is making again. “I’m still not staying beyond ten minutes.”
Seph’s mouth curves into a grin. “We can even leave after five.”