Just This Time

Chapter One

Marco's POV

The most dreaded day is finally here. It's the first day of the brand-new school year. Deafening chatter and clattering footsteps engulfed the school campus. The teachers are somewhat rushing to do their last-minute touches and preparations, with one teacher almost jogging his soul out to fulfill his task. I saw Ma'am Honey Jay, my adviser last school year, and decided to greet her with a good morning.

"Good morning, ma'am." I tipped my head over to show respect. She smiled in return. She's so busy; that she can't even verbally reply to my greeting. I can't blame her, though, because she's in charge of a class around here. I fondly call her "Ma'am Lot," sometimes "Ma'am Kyut," because the Filipino word for "Honey," her name, is "pulot-pukyutan."

As I was walking along the ridiculously slippery hallway (it turned red due to floor wax), I realized that our classroom is three stories up the newly built building for the HUMSS strand. Well, that's free cardio, five times a week.

I stopped for a moment to contemplate my life choices.

Suddenly, a voice called out for my presence.

"Mister Sumulong!"

How convenient.

I rotated my head to see who was trying to summon me. Of course, it's Sir NICO. Yes, with a "c." He'll set your house on fire if you spell his name with a "k."

"Instead of standing there acting like hope's all lost, put your energy out on carrying this table to the office. Chop-chop," he uttered.

I never sighed so deeply in my life. I was just thinking about how I'd be doing cardio daily for the rest ten months of my life. Now I'm deadlifting stuff. I didn't sign up for the gym!

"Mayroong Brigada for a reason, sir," I protested.

"Coming from someone na hindi dumalo yung parent niya," Sir Nico replied.

My nerve cells were dumb enough to make me complain in front of the destroyer himself. But they were smart enough to make me shut up after that crushing reply.

Mama couldn't make it back then because she had to attend to some paperwork about Papa, who passed away during the pandemic. But he didn't die from the virus. It was some police officer who shot him for violating some quarantine protocols.

Yes, I know what you're saying. "I'm sorry." Don't be sorry for me. Nothing will change if we drown ourselves in misery. There's no use in crying over spilled milk. The only way out is to move forward. That's why I'm pushing myself to get my Juris Doctor. I want to fight injustice. I want to fight for the oppressed.

The table landed cleanly in the office. At least Sir Nico showed an ounce of his rare gratefulness by saying "thank you." Before that point, I was convinced that his gratitude was rarer than a diamond.

Now as I march once more towards the building where my block is located, another teacher called for me again. Isn't this a case of favoritism already?

"Ikaw! Naka-blue!"

Gosh, she needs strepsils.

We should petition to normalize saying "no" to these things for our overall welfare.

"Ano po 'yun, ma'am?" I swear that my "po" was just disguising the fact that I was only an inch away from lashing out in front of her.

"Carry these boxes to the storage room just right in front of STEM Building One," she commanded.

My mind just went, "I recommend that buff guy 3 feet away from us to be my substitute." But hey, she's old already. We must respect the elderly. She probably couldn't see the big guy.

It was two stacks of boxes filled with books. Gosh, each book was thicker than my remaining patience. I felt like Hidilyn Diaz the moment I lifted the stuff.

Optimistic philosophers say, "One must imagine Sisyphus happy." Sisyphus, in Greek mythology, was cursed by the Gods to lift a boulder uphill for the rest of his life, just for the boulder to come rolling down again, repeating the process. Hey, I suggest a revision to that statement: "One must imagine Sisyphus carrying books...and is unhappy."

"That teacher should thank God that I love books," I uttered to myself while carrying to my destination.

The boxes were partially blocking my view so I had to peek from the side. The journey felt like a thousand years. But there are no permanent things in this world. And so did this form of torture. After carefully putting the boxes to the ground, proudly smiling, and dusting off the dust that settled on my shirt, I retreated from the purgatory they call the storage room.

But just as I closed the door, and faced the direction towards our building, there was this entity traveling faster than a race car, seemingly distracted with a phone on her ear, and holding in her left hand a Starbucks cup with matcha (I assume) inside. Well, she probably decided it was the best time to engage in physical contact, so she ultimately crashed to me.

In the process, her drink splashed over with a blast radius wider than a nuclear bomb, her phone fell 9.8 m/s², and my head bumped into hers. We fell to the ground, perfectly demonstrating Newton's Third Law of Motion.

"ANO BA NAMAN 'TO!" She irritatingly screamed.

"Ako pa may kasalanan?" I replied.

"BA'T KASI 'DI MO TINITINGNAN DAANAN MO?" She continued to shout and frantically looked at her white cardigan, stained by her drink.

The moment she realized, she started to sob like a child who dropped her ice cream cone.

"Ang OA mo!" I shouted back. She probably couldn't see that the green mark on her shirt was nothing compared to me, who looked like I came swimming from a swamp.

She continued to sob.

"Tig-800 kaya 'to!" She declared.

"Aba, do I care?" I staunchly answered.

"Bwisit ka!" She cursed.

I stood up and picked up her cell phone. The case had a little crack.

"Wala na, paano ko na 'to tatanggalin???" She continued to pertain to her cardigan.

If my day couldn't get any worse, it had already gotten worse.

"Wala akong dalang extra," she anxiously continued.

"Paano naman akong niligo mo?" I asked.

"Aba, do I care?" She mockingly answered.

This girl has attitude problems. I just threw her phone for her to catch.

"Bwisit," I whispered. I reached out for my handkerchief in my back pocket. And there I was, wiping out the matcha stains on my favorite blue polo shirt.

"Hala, may crack 'yung case!!!" She exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes in dismay as I continued to wipe myself.

"Sa susunod, mag-ingat ka sa dinadaanan mo!" I firmly stated.

"Ikaw ang mag-iingat!" She replied. "Bulag ka ba? Nakita mo na nga akong dumadaan!" She continued, and then she stood up.

I was about to argue with her when a loud ringing noise started to burst out of nowhere. It was the school bell. It was time for the first flag rites of the school year. And it's probably my most unfortunate one.

"Saved by the bell," I stated.

"Dami mong ebas," she replied. Yuck, she even uses inverted words.

I aggressively wiped the remaining wet spots on me and finally exited that encounter.

I never walked so defeated in my life. I let out a deep breath.

"Sinusubukan mo talaga ako Lord."