Strings and Stitches

Chapter 3

Whenever I wake up, I usually pretend that I'm a different person. I like to pretend and I always let my imagination run wild. Sometimes I'm a filthy rich Italian woman or a strict yet graceful Londoner or an adventure addict that's why I always have tons of different scenic photographs pasted on the walls of my room. Sometimes, pretending that I have a different life eases my mornings so that I would have the energy to keep on going. In some ways, it gives me hope that in the future, if I can't have a different life right now, maybe a few years later, I'll build my own dream life. 

Chiles jumps into my bed and begins to scratch my bed cloth. That's Chiles' way of saying "get up!"

"Alright, alright,"I tell him. Before I head into the bathroom, I do a quick sun salutation. Ever since Aunt Nora taught us yoga, I've been doing it since I was four. Mom wanted Amber to do it but she found it too difficult and instead got stuck with a nutritionist and a weird diet. Sometimes, I just want to slap some delicate food inside that mouth but alas, the food 'is not worthy.' Right after taking a shower, I grab my jeans and a gray loose sweater before running downstairs.

Downstairs, Mom's there, Dad's there. And oh... look what I found. Amber's drinking her protein shake. I tried tasting it and although it doesn't have such an awful taste, I wouldn't be able to bear drinking that for the rest of my life and it has a strong punch to it and I'm still wondering why she never gets drunk or at the very least, dizzy."Good morning," I greet them as naturally as I could then I skipped and went to the kitchen. I didn't finish the Garten lamb loin that I cooked last night. I'm planning to bring Megan some of it because she always likes my cooking.

When I open the fridge, the Tupperware where I placed my food is gone. I turn around and scan the room but it's not there. Where's my lamb loin? It couldn't have possibly disappeared. Food never disappears! Then I notice that there's something inside the sink. I look inside and find the empty container. Of course, they also disappear if they're thrown away. I check the garbage can at the back only to find Deuce eating my awesome food. I storm inside with blood boiling inside me.

"Mom, did you throw the lamb loin inside the Tupperware?" I ask her.

She stops fiddling her phone and turns to me. So does Dad. "No, sweetie, when we got home, the Tupperware was already empty."

"Your mom's right, I can vouch for her because I cleaned the empty Tupperware," Dad adds.

If it's not Mom or Dad, I'm pretty much sure I don't have to ask in order to confirm it. I look up, sigh and put my hand on my waist. "My food must've been magically thrown away. Anyways, thanks for telling the truth. I'll have to go and fetch Megan."

I grab my keys but then Mom says, "Aren't you having breakfast?"

"I'm on a diet," I tell her while eyeing Amber.

"By the way, Grace, could you bring me a copy of your school's newspaper? I heard they featured our batch reunion last month," Dad tells me before taking a sip of his coffee.

"Sure."

Suddenly, Mom turns to me and asks, "Why didn't you join The Odyssey, Grace?"

I swear, it's been more than two years since she started whining about me entering the damn newspaper club. I clench the keys in my finger. "Mom, I'm an active member of the literature club, the music club, the drama club, the math club, the social sciences club, the science club, the photography club, the Creative Individuals Association and the Goodwill Association. And that's not the only thing I'm part of. There's also the Academic Competition Team. You know that I can't squeeze it inside my schedule."

She nods at my quiet outburst and I turn to Dad. He offers me a reassuring smile before I leave the house. When it comes to preferences and extra co-curricular activities, Mom doesn't really pressure me or ask me about anything because I'm at the top of my game. I once read from a book that just because I am forsaken, doesn't mean that I have to sacrifice my future. For the last sixteen years and eleven months of my life, I've done nothing but to make sure that I can secure a future for myself. I'm glad my bank account had over reached my desired saving goal three months ago. This is what it means to invest. Hard.

After fetching Megan, she gives me an odd look. "What?" I ask her.

"Nothing," she fiddles with her earphones, "I'm just wondering why you suddenly picked me up."

It takes me a while to find the right answer. First of all, telling my parents that I was going to fetch her was a complete and utter excuse so I could leave the house. Second, her house was just three blocks away and it wouldn't bite to pick her up once in a while. Third, I phoned her as soon as arrived in her Mom's house. Fourth, I had to twenty minutes for her. Sigh, the lengths I have to put up with.

"I was early and you're usually early too so I thought we could go to school together," I tell her. That was also a fact, the part about her being an early bird. "Didn't expect that you'd be so slow," I muttered underneath my breath while I turned the steering while for the last intersection before entering the school's direct road.

"Hey, I wasn't slow!" She points a finger to me before pausing and sinking back on her seat. "I couldn't sleep last night because of the newspaper. They're releasing it today and I was praying the rosary and begging for my safety. I don't anyone to read my essay, especially him!" She points at Bobby Green who'd just arrived with his scooter.

I should be manic like how Megan is right now. It's unusual to see her so agitated and it makes me nervous. There's this small belief I have that if I'm not agitated and just calm like a wave, it means something good's about to happen whatever the circumstances- or at least I'll get by fine without having to end up in the hospital. But there's always that ten percent that it's not going to be fine and I'll have to stick with bracing myself because I'm wholly blindsided. Dear God, I've done nothing wrong. Please, oh, please tell me that Mr. Wrong- I mean Mr. Wright, didn't feature my story. I wait for a few mere minutes but there's no response. I sigh. Maybe I'm not as agitated as Megan because of that saving grace of a meal I had which Amber must have 'accidentally' thrown.

While I wait for the car in front of us to park, Megan is seating right beside me, admiring him before criticizing how the world just lost a beautiful specimen for her to breed with. "If only he acted and dressed like how a gay person would, I swear I'll be cured of my attraction of him," she grunts.

I agree with Megan except for the fact that she's stereotyping the whole case. Just because Bobby is gay, doesn't mean that he needs to wear girls clothing although right now, unisexual clothes are hard to be differentiated but is currently a trending fashion statement.

I admire the fact that even though Bobby is attracted to men, he doesn't make it a point to everyone that he's gay. It's hard to explain but the more you look into it, Bobby's not hiding that fact. He just doesn't care what people say. He's comfortable with his own skin and wears whatever males wear. Acts like any guy and talks like any guy. It's even unbelievable to believe that he's a homosexual.

I don't know if the whole school knows but guys talk to him like any guy would talk to a guy. He's cool, composed and I respect those sides of him.

I want to be like him, too. Composed and breathing air without drowning, living with no limits and being comfortable with my own skin. Bobby Green, how do you do it?