“I've read somewhere that what you eat is what you become. I think, it's true, 'cause your cheeks resemble these dumplings,” he blurts out as he munches the last bit of siomai around the small stick he is holding.
Tinaliman ko agad siya ng tingin. “Shuta, inaano ka ng pisngi ko?!”
Chuckles from him resonate. Halos hindi ko na makita ang tsokolateng mga mata niya dahil doon. He slightly crouches and pinches my cheek as the wind gives gentle sways to the swing we are sitting on. I groan because of what he did.
“Sorry. Ang cute, e.”
Inirapan ko siya at sinubo ang huling siomai. We are sharing the styrofoam container he is holding. I lean closer.
“Paano pala 'yon? E 'di magiging siomai na tayong dalawa kung ganoon nga?” tanong ko tungkol sa una niyang sinabi. Hindi ko napigilang hunalakhak.
I am not serious, though for it is really impossible. I cannot help but be sarcastic about it. We are what we eat? In what sense?
Naningkit ang mga mata niya sa akin at saka pabirong umismid. “Hindi kasi literal. You know, the nutrients we absorb from our food intakes stay in our bodies until they eventually become parts of our DNA. Perhaps, the reason why doctors advise us to eat healthy foods 'cause the toxic ones bring sickness or even worse, death.”
“Ah,” pagtango ko. Ano raw?
“But if we're gonna take it in a literal sense, you're probably gonna be a very cute siomai, with peachy gold hair.”
Uminit ang pisngi ko sa mga pinagsasabi niya. He sometimes open up random topics that I had never thought would be interesting enough to make the flow of conversation go on. However, with him, there are instances when it awakens my thinking, challenges my perspective no matter how others find it lame or dull.
“Tapos ikaw, magiging mohawk ang hairstyle mo 'pag naging siomai ka!”
He groans. “Grabe ka sa 'kin,” nguso niya.
“Charot lang. Bakit mo pala naisipang manlibre?” I ask. May pagkakuripot din kasi siya, napansin ko.
The reddening of his ears fails to escape my sight, so as his Adam's apple when he swallows nervously. Umiwas siya ng tingin. “Why? Tingin mo ba hindi ko kayang gawin?”
“Oo? 'Cause it's not so Rico!” I justified. “The Rico I know will ask if I want libre, just like what you did in the coffee shop before.”
“I just got my first pay as a tutor.”
He is tutoring now? I am still shocked despite knowing his ability in academics. Kasi may kaya naman iyong pamilya niya. Tinutustusan naman siya nang maayos, minsan sobra pa nga. Even if he won't tell me, I know it already from the brands of clothes he wear, no matter how simple they look. From the logo of his bag pack. The pair of black leather shoes that shines. His new sets of uniforms every school year. His expensive scent. The car service that drips him off to school every morning If I were him, I would not even see the need to do part time jobs.
“And you decided to spend it on me?”
He nods. A ghost of smile on his lips. Tinusok ko ang straw sa maliit na kahon ng Dutchmill. Grape-flavored, gaya ng i-t-in-ext ko sa kaniya. I sip on it as a distraction on the ruckus of butterflies flying in my stomach.
“I promised on that same coffee shop.”
Our gazes interlock. I remember that moment. It was even before the sun rose. The streets were silent yet the peace between and within us was profound. I remember what he had said. Clearly. I guess he was still not a tutor by that time, using his parents' money to buy a single order of coffee. He did not pay one for me but he promised. Now, fulfilling it, treating me a snack with his own pocket. I gulp as his eyes bore into me.
BINABASA MO ANG
The Seat We Sit On (HFS #1)
Teen FictionFreesia Mandeville has a habit of writing and doodling anywhere in Collins High School. May it be on the walls, chairs, and even on the comfort room's newly painted doors; even on the seat she's sitting on in their classroom as a silent rebellion ag...
