Interim Goddess of Love #1 of 3 (COMPLETE)

Chapter 11

The poster said that we should attend the First Quarter Bash to "celebrate our sports supremacy!"

It was nice to see that even the Bash organizers, usually students who would rather party than be in school (hence joining the club that organized parties), had a sense of irony. Ford River was not big on sports. They tried, but it just wasn't that fun. Technically the school wasn't based in Manila, and didn't compete with other metro colleges in their sports leagues. Our games—when there were games—weren't televised, and it required some effort to actually see them. And yet (as if there was a memo) the jocks of the basketball team still ruled the school, even though they'd never even won a championship.

They were the most good-looking team there, though, usually. I had to give them that.

But none of this mattered, because any excuse for a party was embraced by the Ford River crowd. The Bash was usually held somewhere off campus after a big basketball game, never mind if we won or lost. I only knew this because of post-Bash gossip, by the way. I hadn't gone to one yet.

"Ouch," someone said, from somewhere just off to my right.

It was Robbie, Quin's friend, another basketball player.

"Sorry?" I automatically asked.

He pointed to the exact phrase that I was fixating on. "The Bash people are making fun of me."

"I'm sure they don't mean you."

"They just mean the guys who play basketball. They kind of mean me."

I always liked Robbie. Not that way, but you know what I mean. In this popular-guy "boy band," Quin was the leader, Diego the rebel, and Robbie the cute one. He just seemed to be the most approachable, and he actually had a sense of humor. Whenever I saw him wearing his basketball uniform on campus, I had the impression he was at practice but forgot something at his locker. Not like the other guys who wore the jersey to show off.

"It ends at nine-thirty?" I said, pointing to that detail on the poster. "I don't go to parties, and I know that's boring."

"You've never been to a Bash?"

"No."

"They say it ends early to get the school to approve putting up the poster. It doesn't end at nine-thirty."

"They lie?" That sounded much more likely then. "Wow. I...totally expected that."

I thought about what would happen if this big party actually did end at nine-thirty. Robbie laughed a little, probably because I was too, and he wasn't like Quin who never laughed with me on anything.

"So are you going?" he asked, a beat later.

"Huh?"

"Are you going to the Bash?"

And then I saw it, a memory of Robbie's, and it was weird. I saw me.

...I was wearing the pink top with my dark jeans and white sandals—an ensemble I threw on for the first time just last week. Apparently it was a good hair day—soft waves ran down my back. A good skin day too, no breakouts, and from that particular distance, the afternoon sun was actually flattering. I had my usual afternoon snack combo: buko juice (coconut water only, no sugar) in one hand, turon in the other. I was on my way from the cafeteria to probably the guidance office and I just started biting into the turon. It was nice and crunchy.

Robbie was on the second floor of the East building, and he had looked at me just as a breeze blew a lock of my hair over one shoulder.

It was very fabulous, if I may say so myself.