Through Your Eyes

Seven: Pins and Pics

-Brielle’s POV-

I feel like somebody followed me, there’s the faint scent of strong perfume and a hint of warmth, along with the thumping footsteps.

No, it couldn’t be so. Maybe I’m just imagining things.

“Brielle!” a soft female voice called, so I turned around, a pair of arms gave me a light hug.

“Oh, Marian. It’s so good to know you’ve made it” I smiled. She’s a friend of mine, fellow representative, and one of my school mates from Harris University back at home.

“ I had a slight amount of trouble with my visa, luckily, we’ve been able to fix it a week before the flight.” She says, in a very light yet controlled voice, like Effie Trinket in The Hunger Games, only less chirpy.

[At the room we’re staying in for the rest of the week, tired from walking around]

“I’ve got something for you and your guide dog.” Marian took my right hand and put two things on my palm.

They’re both cold, smooth metal, round, no, wait, it’s a hoop, with something bumpy in the middle.

“Ano ‘to(what’s this)?”  I asked, the other one was similar to the first object, but it had a leather strap.

“Mockingjay pins. The first one is 24k gold, Sandy’s collar piece is made of Sterling silver with your name and contact details engraved at the back. I’m sorry the birthday present’s a month late.” She takes the first one and pins it on my shirt, and then she ties the collar to Sandy’s neck.

I give her a big hug in return.

“I don’t mind, really, and besides, you’re too kind.” I say, this of course, is true. Marian is the sister I never had. Her mother’s a jewelry designer, which explains why I received such a gift.

We’ve been friends since kindergarten. Though we have a lot of differences, Marian and I get along quite well, especially when it comes to saving the Earth.

The rest of the week was awesome. There were loads of activities and lectures that helped me make new friends, meet different people, and just feel good about everything. But although I enjoyed the event, I have to admit, the best part was when we finally get to go home, after all, there’s no place like it, right?

[after the flight back to The Philippines]

Lola (grandmother) Linda, my grandmother from Mom’s side, gave me a very warm welcome.

“ So nice to see you again, Addy.” She hugged me tightly.

My full name is Adelaide Brielle Cariño. Funny, isn’t it? My initials are the first three letters of the alphabet.

-Lochlan’s POV-

[ London, England, in some restaurant]

Charlie, my boss, scans all of the pictures I’ve taken during the event in Miami. I see him give an occasional raise of the eyebrows, and then finally looks at me with a straight face.

“What? Are the shots bad?” I ask.

No reply, but he did give an annoying smile.

“Don’t give me that look, spit it out!” I’m starting to be annoyed.

“The pictures are good, but what I don’t understand is how these” he hands me five pictures “got mixed in.”

“Who is she?” he asked before shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Brielle.

“Just someone I met in Florida, no one special” I said before looking away, remembering how I messed up when I saw her at the conference.

“Just someone you met, eh? I see someone else” he’s trying to tap into something that he’ll never find out.

Though he tries his best to set me off, he’ll never succeed, since he’s my best friend.

“Her candid photos show more life than the shots of the event, it’s as if you have a different perspective when you took those pictures.”

“What do you want me to do? I’ll dispose of them, if that’s what you want” I suggested.

“ Oh for heaven’s sake, DON’T! These are good photos, keep them, let them remind you of the Lochlan I interviewed three years ago.” He says, rolling a crazy straw between his thumb and index finger.

 Three years ago? You must be daft! I was reckless at the time. Not a damn was given about the world, anything, or anyone.

“Now if you’ll excuse me” he takes the event pictures and slides them back to the brown envelope, “ dadalhin ko na ‘to sa layout artist para sa magazine (I’ll be bringing this to the layout artist for the magazine)” and leaves the five photos of Brielle, on the table, right in front of me.

He had the nerve to make a final attempt of vexing me, and he’s got a total of one to nothing(my score). Speaking in a language that he OBVIOUSLY knows I could clearly understand.

Too bad though, I can’t find the guts to talk the words like my grand Da would, you couldn’t really recognize him. With that flawless Filipino accent, he’s quite the master of tricking my distant relatives into thinking he’s a native. It’s all thanks to his grand mum, a woman who was from the orient pearl itself.

Grand Da and I had trips to the place time and again. I’ve been in and out of the country for as long as I could possibly remember. The way he talks with the locals make me feel quite inferior because people might laugh at my heavy Northern accent. I couldn’t shake it off, you know.