This Time

Two

TWO: BLAST FROM THE PAST

JULY 24, 2009 7:45 AM

I have been staring at the mirror for half an hour when I heard my mom calling after me. She says I should hurry up if I don't want to be late. I glanced at the reflection one last time and shook my head. It's so bizarre how the person on the other side is both me and not me. I grabbed a clip and fixed my hair. I am not walking out of this house with these bangs. No. Why did I even have this haircut before? Geez. Past self, why?

I got out of my room and bid my mom goodbye. As I headed towards the main road, something weird started stirring in my stomach and I feel my panic levels rise like that mountain in Mars. Is this real? Or just a really weird but vivid dream? Am I really back in time? All these questions are popping out of my head and I have no answers. Another thing to worry about is how to deal with school. I feel anxious. High school all over again. This isn't something you'll read on my bucket list. Never. I thought I was officially done with school. And now, here I am, making my way to the same street, same gate, and same hallway from where I thought I was never going back to again.

McArthur High is just like any other regular high school. Population probably less than 5000. Nothing really special, except that creamy carbonara they serve at the cafeteria. That, my friends, is beyond special.

I made my way to Building B, and climbed up the second floor where my room was located. I am amazed that I still remember how to get here, not that our school is too big, its just that this actually is a labyrinth to new people. I made my way past the first two rooms and suddenly panic sinks in. How am I supposed to deal with this? With everyone?

I composed myself and entered the classroom. Most of them were scattered around, talking to each other. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and when I turned around, its Jane. Something snapped. Light bulbs. Jane! I was with Jane last night! Maybe she knows something about this.

"Hey weirdo! Happy Birthday!"

"Thank you, weirdo. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"We're already talking."

"I know, Galileo. But like, somewhere private?"

She pretended to be shocked and put both of her hands together on her chest. "Are you going to confess that you have been secretly in love with me? Because dude, I'm sorry. I'm not gay. And even if I was, we both know you're not my type. Sorry."

I've always loved Jane's humor. Not a lot of people get us when we're being sarcastic but we love it. It kind of makes us exclusive.

"Oh shut up! Like I would date you if I was. You're not my type as well." I laughed and swat at her stomach. "Cmon, follow me."

We went out of the classroom to our favorite spot under the sampaloc tree. There were only two other students hanging out there, since its only 10 minutes until classes start. I sat on the wooden bench and motioned for her to sit beside me.

I've known Jane since grade school. We were on the same classes, lived on the same street, and sat beside each other alphabetically. So automatically, we were best friends. But it wasn't just that, we also understand each other in a way no one can. She's like my sister, an extension of my soul. She knows when something's wrong with me or if I'm just messing with her.

"Okay, what's wrong? You're making me nervous."

I can sense that she knows nothing about the time travelling, but I still have to try my luck. I don't want to hit her with the big stuff just yet, so I asked the safest question.

"Uhm, where were you last night?"

She looked at me like I was joking. When she realized I wasn't, she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Home. Where else would I be? You know my parents would kill me if I went out after 7." She gave out a tired laugh. "My parents still think I would get pregnant if I went out after 7. I have told them a million times that I do NOT have a boyfriend."

I laughed. Her parents were really that strict. She was always the one who didn't go to parties, events and etcetera not because she was anti social, but because her parents are very skeptical about people and basically the whole entire world.

With this, I decided she didn't really know about anything and so I didn't push. Maybe it was really just me. Or maybe I'm still dreaming. Or maybe somebody put something on my drink last night and these are all part of my high-on-drugs phase.

But as the day progressed, I realized everything is so true. This is real. This is happening. For some reason, I am in the past. The only question is why? And how? Why am I even here? What am I doing here? I'm supposed to be moving out, living my adult life and now I'm stuck in the past and god forbid I'm about to relive every frigging event of my senior year. And maybe even everything after that. How am I supposed to go back? I still have very little memory of last night. All I know is we were having fun, drinking, and then I don't know.

Fortunately, all my exams were easy. Even trigonometry was easy. Wow. I didn't think I would still remember this stuff, but magically, I do. Fifteen minutes through the final test, which is English, I was done answering but I didn't want to turn my paper in just yet. It just seems like a show-off kind of thing to me. While pretending I was still reading questions and thinking about it, I gazed outside the window. It's still the familiar hallway, the steel bar terrace with the faded white paint, some parts rusted. I've had tons of memories in this place. Chit chats while waiting for the teacher, high school musical reenactment scenes, and who would forget the section wars? Back when sections fought for the silliest things like missing chairs, missing chalk boxes. It was all fun. High school was fun.

My train of thought was suddenly interrupted when I see someone about to pass by the window. He was walking, his head bent down, one hand on his pocket, the other carrying a chalk box. I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is totally making this a chalk box print ad shoot. How can you make something as simple as walking while holding a chalk box so damn sexy? Unreal.

Chalk box model was headed to the faculty room beside ours. He lifted his eyes as he neared my place beside the window, just in time to see mine. As if he knows I will be there. It's as if he'd done this a million times. As if it was what he's there for. He paused for half a second and smiled before bending his head down again. His smile. Is that smile even legal? I mean, that smile could kill people. I think I just stopped breathing. Why is my heart responding to those eyes like the old times? This isn't right. Why is he here?

Suddenly, it dawned to me. He goes to this school. We went to same high school. How could I forget? Ugh. Of course, he'll be here. Patrick's here.