Can't get enough of our beloved QED 4?
Do you want to see them camping? How about them playing beach volleyball? Or them enjoying a spring water pool?
The CHRONICLES is a collection of fun and light-hearted side stories featuring the QED 4. This i...
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LOKI
THANKS TO my mom's phone call, I was unusually early today. While most students go straight to their classrooms when they arrive at school, I don't. I always drop by the clubroom first before going anywhere else. That's been my routine since I started the club.
When I was only a few steps away from the high school building, my eyes looked up at the windows of the third floor. My focus was on the ones to the farthest right. They were open. I remember closing them yesterday. Someone might already be there this early.
There was something else. A small piece of paper landed on my head. Curious, I checked what's written on it, but surprisingly it's blank. More pieces rained down on the pavement. Some students started picking them up. I crumpled the piece in my hand and threw it away. There's an anti-littering rule on the campus, but no one's looking anyway.
Enough with the distraction. I walked into the building, leaving behind the students wondering where the pieces of paper came from. On my way to the stairs, I saw two of my classmates skipping down. They greeted me "hi!" and I only nodded in response.
Was I expecting them to greet me with "happy birthday"? No, of course. I ensured that no one in this school knows my birthday. Except for the school registrar who keeps my official records. I remember one of my classmates forced me to fill out a slam book entry. I begrudgingly did and wrote "February 30" as my date of birth. The fool never noticed it.
I hid my birth date on my social media accounts so my virtual friends wouldn't be notified. Isn't it such a shame that people are reminded about someone's birthday thanks to Facebook? The greetings would always sound forced and insincere. "I forgot about your birthday, so I'm only greeting you because Facebook reminded me."
Thanks to that strategy, I also escaped the awkward moments in class. Imagine yourself going into your classroom, then everyone starts singing "happy birthday." That's gonna be unpleasant. Should I sing with them, clap with them or stare at them uncomfortably? As much as possible, I'd like to avoid those embarrassing scenarios.
My clubroom was located on the third floor of the high school building. The room number is 315, the farthest one on this floor. I initially hoped that they would give us a room on the second floor and near the stairs. For accessibility reasons, obviously. Climbing to the third floor and walking for another minute or two to reach the clubroom takes too much effort, especially for me.
I stopped before the door and held the knob. The clubroom is my sanctum sanctorum. This is the only place on the campus where I feel comfortable. I heard a gentle voice coming from the inside. Looked like my other member was already here. She must be the one who opened the windows.
"Gaano ho ba katagal? Hindi naman ho siguro male-late, 'no?" A young woman was speaking over the phone. When the door creaked open and my footsteps followed, her shoulders jerked upward as she turned in my direction.
