A Book Nerd's Guide to Falling in Love

Chapter 5: Hidden Angles were Sneaky

Sleep should make people better. In a lot of cases, that was true. But not for me today.

I woke up drooling over my laptop, heavy-brained from last night's internet info overload, and it wasn't helpful at all.

I sat up, squinting at the screen. Google search results gave me a did-not-match-any-documents for nalsfkanf;b;lbdfbaksbdf;bfkbk;sabfkbka.

"Looks like the internet doesn't have all the answers after all," I humphed, touching my face and feeling the imprint of the keyboard on my forehead. Deep grooves like wrinkles, cavernous enough to define my worries.

"Elsy!" my mother called from downstairs. "Gumising ka na. You're going to be late!"

Gumising ka na were words I heard every morning. They meant wake up!

"Elsy!" my mother called again with a louder voice.

"I'm awake!" I shouted back, annoyed. Why was my mother hounding me like I hadn't cried last night? Couldn't I get a little sympathy around here?

I huffed out a stressed and tired breath. My life was that of a typical teenager's, except for the part where I was the only half-Filipino in Littleton.

Out of over five thousand residents, my mother and I were the only two of Filipino descent. Sometimes, it made me unique. But a lot of times, it only made me feel like I didn't belong.

It was different in New York. The Big Apple had a more diverse population. It was a city where I was part of a community.

I thought I would be more at home in the Philippines, but when we traveled there to visit family, I felt as alien as I did here. Not fully one of them but something in between.

But in New York, there were people like me who were products of love between continents. Even as a small group within the millions, it gave me comfort knowing I wasn't alone.

I missed it.

New York, I mean.

But Littleton was my home now, and the townsfolk had been nothing but welcoming to us since we moved, especially Lotty's family. So I couldn't complain.

I prepped for school for the day and then went down for breakfast, where I found my mother sitting at the dining table, typing on her cell phone and enjoying a hot cup of coffee. She didn't say anything about last night, but I could tell by how she kept glancing at me that she was itching to ask questions.

It was one of the things I liked about my mother—so patiently waiting for me to be ready to talk about my problems. I guessed as long as I wasn't going to be late for school, she was going to leave me alone.

"Thanks, Mom," I said after finishing my eggs and bacon, grateful not only for the food but for the silence.

When I picked up the bag I'd left on the counter the night before, I decided to leave the books I borrowed from the library. I opened it up and pulled out the two history books and—

"That's weird," I said as I placed the books on the counter. "Where's that red book?"

"Someting wrong?" my mother asked, looking up from her phone.

"Did you touch my stuff last night?" I asked.

"Elsy, wag mo akong pagbibintangan. You lept your bag der last night," she said, the first sentence meant Elsy, don't accuse me.

"I wasn't," I answered, defensive. "I borrowed three books from the library. One is missing."

"Did you check your bag toroly?" My mother set her phone down on the table, giving me her full attention.