lit complete, compiled)

8/3/2019 Lit Complete, Compiled)

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Lit

Tattered 2010-2011

Prologue

I gaze on his nicely chiseled face.

He reaches for my hands. He cups them to his face. Languidly, I trace the slope that defines his features.My hand brushes his forehead, his cheek, his nose, his lips. Mine turns to a lopsided grin.

I pull myself to him. My hands encase his neck as his hands wrap around my waist. I straddle to himbefore diving to the pool of ecstasy.

Lurid. Passionate. I am left mute. The dance is a myriad of waltz, tango, salsa. I plant my kisses on hisjaw line, to his throat, to his neck, to the arch of his broad shoulders.

Reaching for the pitcher of water, I douse the bonfire. He lies back, pulling me with him. I rest my head onhis chest. He hums, lulling me to sleep.

I hope tonight will not steer us quickly to daybreak.

One

I awkwardly stand a few steps from the entryway of the lounge.

I hear the others talking avidly about the activities. Being one of the seniors, I must be leading theorientation of the lower batches. I shrug; it is not my fault if the bus I rode on arrived late. I take myluggage and silently trudge to the next floor.

"Aurore!"

My head whips back. Tasha waves. She runs to me and hits my arm. I wince, then hit her back.

"You have to do fifteen pumps," she reminds. I roll my eyes.

"As if those kids can get me," I say in defense.

"Really, Aurore. You should try being honest sometimes," Tasha clucks her tongue. Passing my had-carryto her, I smirk.

"I prefer being a liar. Thank you very much."

Abreast, we walk up the steps. We stay at the third landing. Bags have been dropped on the mini-lounge.

Tasha and I breathlessly slump. Our bodies lie like sacks on the couch. The clock ticks as we catch ourbreath.

The room I am occupying is at the edge. It is bigger than what I used to stay at. Higher ranks do havecredits. Tasha sniffs; she smiles as the aroma of fresh scented candles infiltrate her nostrils.

"Duty delivery."

I stop taking in air. I cannot gulp. My body seizes to move. Inside, my system clamors. It wants to turn myphysical body towards the speaker. It isnt shame that kept me from where I stand. I know it's not.


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"Pierre. Just leave that to me," I hear Tasha's footsteps.

"Aurore needs to sign here."

I silently grumble. Dragging my feet, I go to where he is standing. Pierre holds out a pen. I get mine frommy pocket. I sign my name.

"We'll confer in an hour," he adds.

Tasha pushes him back. Daringly, I look up. I see his eyes, but the anticipated feeling does not come. Hecatches me. That instance must have made me appear like a dolt.

But I stand firm. No remorse about forgetting. No regret about moving on.

Pierre is insignificant.

Two

The opening program plays on full swing.

Holding my glass of lemonade, I try to dance gracefully. Tasha is grinding with Jude, one of her suitors. Igive them space. It feels awkward to try to fit yourself. I move around alone. It is too desolate.

I return to the bar. I settle on the stool. The bartender comes over and offers me a shot. I refuse, showingmy mobile phone. He walks away in disappointment. I have not enticed him; I am not guilty of seduction.

The music changes. My phone buzzes. I read the message. 'Dance floor'. I smile, leaving my glassbehind.

His back rests on one of the pillars. His mane is covered by a hat. I see his lips turn up as I approach. He

cocks his head when I stop. It is really fun to tease him. He walks to where I stand.

"Staying away from you is painful," he starts.

"How dramatic," I retort. He places a hat identical to his on my disheveled mane.

"I do not want Pierre to have both your eyes," he grabs my waist.

"Jealous git," we both giggle. He brushes the stray locks framing my face.

"Midnight, honey. I cannot wait for your full glory."

Then we part ways.

---

Half pass eleven; we are back to the sleeping lodge. The younger years are tucked in bed. The lot of usstays at the entertainment room. Bottles of beer are on the table, waiting to quench tonight's insecurities.

"Are you not going to join the fun?" Jude leans on the fridge.

"I am tired. I have danced all night," I answer, taking a bottle of water.


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"With your hat on? I never thought you like hats. You seem to touch your hair all the time."

Geoff enters the kitchen. I ignore his comment. He always notices everything. Instinctively, I brush myhair. I see him look.

"Grow your own hair, Geoff," I reach for his short locks. He catches my hand.

"Nobody touches my hair girl."

Bloody possessive. I let his remark go. I place my hat to his head, but not before touching it with the backof my hand.

"I don't have to be your girl to touch your hair."

Three

We lie by the shore. Hands intertwined. Heads touching each other's. Bodies close enough to feel thewarmth of the other. We gaze at the stars, shimmering like jewels light-years away.

"I feel like a star every time we are not alone," he says, patting his shoulder. I lean to him and plant a kisson his neck.

"We do not have to keep this a secret," I suggest. His grip tightens.

"Really? Won't that make us traitors to our own kin?"

"It is not a bridge's fault if the burden is too heavy between two souls," I answer, "It is not my fault fallingfor you when Tasha asked for my help."

"She's your best friend," he argues.

"But I don't have to give everything to her," I roll right above him, seeking for his gaze, "I am selfish. I can'tlet her have you." Then I plunge.

As we roll on the sand, I think of my closest comrade. Tasha, the girl-next-door. The ever imposingvolunteer. The self-proclaimed know-it-all. The histrionic. The dramatic. The description is sick to the ears.

"I'm glad you are selfish," he whispers against my lips.

It must be my irritation that heated the moment. Or his infamous impatience. Moreover, the celestialbodies are our witnesses to an event vividly painted by our raw emotions. When we sink in to thetemptation, not even foul realities of friendship can ruin the moment.

The night is ours.

---

My head pounds as I arrive in the kitchen. The lodge is filled with nature's music -- the rolling of the sea,the tweeting of the birds, the dancing of the twigs and leaves. How immaculate is that image to entranceme on a morning.

I prepare myself a helping of coffee. I place the rolls in the over toaster. I grab a chair and stare at theelegance of the early day.


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"Good morning, Aurore," Jude walks in, "Have you slept well?"

"Remarkably well, yes. How's your morning?" I inquire.

"It's great. We're playing at the clubhouse. You comin'?" He offers. His head whips to the entry way. Geoffenters. "Hey man. Stumped?" Jude teases.

I freeze, waiting for his reply. "No. I actually feel perfect."

They converse for a while. Jude leaves, the door banging as he exit the lodge. Geoff takes the food Iprepared and places them on the table. He stops beside me, reaching for my empty hand.

"Good morning, hun."

Four

"Everybody! Please listen."

I stand in the middle of the circle. The members of the group stare at me. One of them gulps when I catchher eye. The other covers his yawn. I know they are frightened of me because of the surprise outburst.

Except for one.

Her long thin legs display itself stiffly on my way. I stop on the edge of her place. She looks up and tossesher lustrous hair. I reckon she wants me to be envious; what is to like about her? I care not about heralmost sluttish disposition.

"You can sit properly, you know," I remark. She raises an eyebrow.

"You can take the other direction," she points to my back, "See. There's plenty of space to fill your filth."

"Oh. 'Cause yours is overflowing this dump?" I hear appreciative snickers from our company. I feignedsniffing something disgusting. "Why does it smell like dung in here? Return to the washroom, people."

More chortles follow. I give her my infamous smug look. Poor wannabe, trying to intimidate me with heramateur tongue. Surely, she is unaware of the wars mine has stumbled upon.

She sneers. "At least I don't go around hounding on someone else's property."

The threat has not swayed my attention. The crowd remains ignorant. I turn back to her.

"Guess the owner forgot to put a label on her thing." I wink. "Maybe you should advise name plates toher."

Poor wannabe does know how to cry wolf. Too bad, she let herself be used by some backstabbingcoward.

---

Late afternoon arrives with rain showers on its tail.

I do not feel timorous as I stand alone in the music room. Rather, it ensues somber emotions from me.The rain blurs the edges of the vision, creating patches of illusion against the real thing. That is how Iperceive me position in real life, and it saddens me to be hindered by a mere attachment.


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My eyes drop to the grand piano. Static but sleek. I always look at it with awe; how can something ancientproduce an ethereal product? Is it its history that marks its magnificence, or its stature that defines itselegance? Abstract ideas flow in my mind whenever this grandiose instrument enters my mind. I slip myhand on its surface. My hands dance its way to the ivory keys.

A nocturne is played by my fingers. I offer it to the gloom. I remove my mask. My face contorts with innerpain. There are no waterworks, for my eyes are void of i ts childish escape. I hum. I sway side by side. Icatch the whimpers.

"The group is looking for you."

My daydream shatters. My hands freeze in panic. I lift my head. Pierre's gaze does not falter.

"There wouldn't be any activity 'til six."

"You're one of the leaders," he shrugs.

"You are in my group. We are co-leaders." My smile turns sweet. "Are you trying to corner me becauseyour strategies aren't working?"

Pierre smiles bitterly. He places a hand on the top of the piano. I cringe as he move closer.

"I never knew you play." He changes the topic.

"You never took time to know."

Pierre scoots closer. He sits beside me. His hand slithers to my arm. "If I do now, will you let me?"

Abhorrence. Repugnance. My disgust simmers just underneath my seductive facade. I lift his chin, slidingmy finger in his jaw line.

"I think you just ran out of time."

Five

Chattering fills the mess hall. I plug my earphones, drowning the hustle and bustle of the campers. Myeyes search around. Tasha is sitting with Jude and Geoff. The latter sees me first, but he does not smile.I remember; the public must be kept in the dark.

I make my way to the table. Tasha grabs a handful of my friends and places it on her plate. I take her barof Hershey's.

"What's up?" I ask, swallowing a spoonful of Mac 'n' Cheese.

"We bored the hell out of ourselves. I am surprised we survived," Jude snatches my drink. "Where haveyou been?"

"On a date with me," Pierre answers from behind.

I shudder. Typical of him, always appearing at the wrong place on a wrong time. I move towards Tasha.Our legs touch. She nudges me with her shoulder and pushes me back to Pierre. The asshole slings hisarm on my shoulder.


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"Hey babe," he kisses my temple. "Miss me?"

Thank God for my empty stomach. My eyes are succinctly drawn to Geoff's indifference. I place my handon Pierre's thigh, forming squiggly patterns. His legs shake as my hands dance on the corners of his legs.Edgy. I scoot closer to reach his ear. I bite the tip of it. "More than you can imagine."

"Easy tiger," he catches my hand. I look at him and silently sneer. Pushing him away, I scoff, and thenconcentrate on my food.

"Feisty," I hear Geoff comment. "Told you man, don't hoard on hungry girls."

Pierre flicks fallen strands of my hair. "I feel strangely damp today. I tend to forget the guidelines."

I pat his stomach. My hand slithers down to the buckle of Pierre's belt. "The waterfall can wait." I fight theurge to hit his crotch for the sake of our company.

The conversation continues, tossed in with innuendos to keep everyone on the edge. All the time, I try tomake Geoff talk to me. They know we are friends; it is not a crime if we chat. The douchebag is stubborn;he ignores me.

Leema approaches our table. She is small and lithe, her eyes never failing to shine even in despair. I seethe folders she is holding.

"Hey. I bring presents!" She passes the five of us a folder each. I scan its contents. Odine. Jenaro.Esperanza. Vivienne. Guillermo. Shattered Reflections. It is Leema's own work; her winning has gainedher a slot in the Glee Club.

"What is this for?" Geoff inquires.

"The admin wants us to have this production. It is for the farewell, but you know how a month passes."Leema passes me a slip of paper. In the middle, Vivienne is written in block letters. Oh, the young femalelead. The most coveted role of all female aspirants.

I feel someone kick my foot. Geoff is now looking at me. He smiles. From the thin surface of his ownpaper, I see Guillermo etched. I smile, too.

Oh Leema, my dear, you are an angel.

Six

Water sloshes down to my stiff form. I lift my head and feel the dripping in my face. I stop its flow toslather my body with liquid bath soap. Bubbles start to form.

"Hello, pretty," Geoff slightly opens the curtain. I shot a look to the side, having a glimpse of his swimmingshorts.

"Just in time, hot stuff," He slightly lifts the strap of my suit. His strong knuckles rub on my back. His handpresses and glides, gentleness and force materializing in his massage. I turn around, placing my daintyhands in his chest.

"Shut the lights," I command. He follows. In his wake, he wets himself briefly before we continue.

"I wonder how we remain virgins," he muses, his hands kneading my lower back. I bite back a moan. "Noguy will ever resist this," his hands trace my figure, "wonderful creation. I am a hormone-crazed


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extraordinaire."

I cup his face with both my hands. "We're sensible enough to reserve something for ourselves," I explain.

"We must be boring animals, then," he smirks before leaning in.

Head to head. Waist to waist. Chest to chest. We touch what has been forbidden to touch. Young andimpatient, we explore structures. We reach heights. Inhumane desires procure us. We slither like snakesunder the shower.

But we never open the gates of eternal bliss.

"You're not just a nerd school-wise. You're a nerd even after school hours," he grabs my waist, letting mestraddle I jump and wrap my legs around his torso.

"If that is so, then we're doing a Draco Hermione number here," I clamp his hair back. He grins smugly. Iimagine him as the pompous and blonde badass from the notorious series. Draco will probably be tallerand paler; Geoff just suits my needs.

"You have fetish for fiends," he remarks.

"They are more interesting and dangerous," I turn the water flow off. My back lies on the cold, damp wall."I like men feisty and monstrous," I rest my forehead against his. "Villains just need a little love, you know.Like Draco, he just needs more affection because Crabbe's and Goyle's aren't enough."

He playfully spanks my thigh. "Do not mock the dead, Aurore." His fingers draw a line from my throat,down to the valleys, to the center of my stomach. "Besides, if I am Draco, I won't be having Crabbes andGoyles waiting on my bed."

"Good." I pinch his nipple. "Because I am the only one who has the right to do so."

Then we proceeded to another thrilling game.

---

It is a few minutes past nine. Geoff has gone first, around fifteen minutes ago. I remain near the entrywayof the shower block. My body is pretty cold. The shower's warmth does not last for a long time.

Someone comes toward my place. "Who's there?" I demand.

Tasha's face slowly appears against the dark. She is in her bonfire attire -- oversized flannel pants,colorful socks, and untidy hair. Her expression transforms to relief as she sees me.

"Young lady, why are you still here? You'll be missing the real deal of tonight!" She pinches my nose. Icringe.

"I was having a moment before you arrive in your nutcase glory," I try to mock her playfully. Tashacatches it and drags me with my ear.

"You're-- Gah."

As we saunter through the night, I think about the bath I shared with Geoff. True, we are forbidden,considering our friends. We are always on the brink of toppling off the peak, but still, we give each otherthe nights, the minutes, the seconds. Tomorrow never matters; it is only today. Here. Now. Him. Me.

Us.


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Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet. William Herondale and Theresa Gray. Henry Schoonmaker andDiana Holland. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.

If there are just shades of gray for us.

Seven

The stage is illuminated by a makeshift chandelier of light bulbs. With its help, I easily see the crew.Leema waves enthusiastically as I approach. I jump up the stage where they are huddled.

The first thing I noticed is a bunch of frilly clothes meticulously organized on the metal rack. Two girls,both armed with needles, rolls of thread, and scissors, are circling the innocent clothes like cunningpredators. I remove the first dress from its place.

"Are we seriously going to wear this?" I eye the garment in disdain. This thing decorated with arrays ofbeads must weigh a ton.

Leema smiles, "Why not? They're perfect!" She squeals. I harshly return the abomination to its formerplace, earning me a glare from one of the girls. I roll my eyes.

"If I don't survive--"

"Don't worry. He'll be there to carry you like its your wedding night," she winks.

I can never understand Leema. She has never been in our circle. Heck, the girl has been a completestranger to me until junior year. Leema is sweet, charming, a bit delusional for my liking, but her odditymakes her salient and attractive among the crowd. I am not a fan of perky little girls, but Leema is Leema.

She is one of a kind.

As she is about to bark another round of complaints to one of the dress-handlers, I pull her back. She letsme lead her to the nearest empty storage room. I switch the lights on.

"Thank heavens for you, Aurore. I swear; that woman is driving me nuts!" She flings her hand inexasperation. "I can't bear bullshitting with her anymore."

The pity. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. Leema looks at me questionably.

"Well, I'm just wondering why you've chosen me for the role. Tasha is the best actress around."

Leema glances at me deviously. The joyous disposition is quite unnerving. Amusement flashes in herface. "Because you don't have to act for this. Having a natural act on it is the best choice."

I constrain myself from being a babbling buffoon. Leema senses my indifference. "Don't tell me there'snothing going on with you and Geoff."

In my eyes, she is on a scale. The other side is occupied by the feather of truth, the other her youngheart. She has the best cards -- quirk, silence, and levelheadedness. Leema gets impatient; she pouts infull force. I put on my mask; some secrets are meant to be yours alone.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

I turn the lights off.


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---

The doorframe rattles as I sharply whipped the door.

I am left breathless. I almost spill the beans; fucking stupid. Even battling to confess to Leema is apreposterous idea; no one will accept my conglomerated reality. The ups and downs are ours alone; theworld is deceptive, evil, and not trustworthy. In irritation, I slam my folder to the platform. I sit and rest myhead on the cold floor.

"Rough day?" A masculine voice inquires. Pierre. The taunting mushroom. I ignore him. He scoots down,his face almost leveled with mine. "Do you always have to be lackadaisical when we're alone?"

"There is no point in faking displeasure when you are with people you don't really like."

Pierre smirks. "I'm just trying to make a small talk. Besides, whenever we cross ways, you never let theopportunity of showing or telling that to me," he reaches for me.

Swiftly, I return to sitting position and push him. "I am repeating again and again because you tend toforget. Even your selfishness, you tend to forget." I try to stand.

"Easy hot head," he grabs my wrist. "I am not here to fight. I just saw you slumped on the floor like somesick--"

"I feel well, no need for anyone to worry." He lets me stand.

"Must add that to my list." He recovers a pad from his back pocket.

I snort, getting my folder from the platform. I move to the other side of the room. Pierre's mere presenceinduces worry; I do not see any reason for me to trust him.

"Why are you even here?" I whisper to nothingness. Apparently, Pierre has ears of a wild animal.

"I'm the director. I get to supervise practices."

I succumb deeper to my bubble. Badmouthing Pierre will do me no good. He is witty and rash; he lets histongue do all the reasoning. It is one reason why he never captured my heart; he is either physically orverbosely abusive.

Shattered Reflections. I smile as I start to read the lines. The script pulls small moments from my head. Itis the first piece I have judged after I recollected myself from the past. Alongside me in that journey isGeoff -- Shattered Reflections is the reason why I learned to reach out again. Geoff is hard in the exterior.We bicker a lot. We cuss to each other. We physically and playfully hit each other. Geoff has been mychallenge -- now, he is my pride and joy.

I feel my shirt being lifted. A hand touches my back, right where a horrendous mark has etched my skin. I

jump away, my hands in fist. Pierre is surprised and skeptic, his hand a few inches from me. The dreamylook in my face changes to a livid one. "What are you trying to do?"

"I--" He grapples for a proper explanation, but I shut him.

"I am trying to be a professional here. I hope you exert some effort to be civil,I warn with juvenileinsistence.

Silence wraps us for the rest of the time. My anger quickly subsides. Reminiscing has been my immunereaction, but the dark side drags me like a helpless doll.


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I want to feel insouciance. Please.

Eight

Tasha flings herself to my bed, opening her arms like a bird on flight. Her lustrous locks frame her angelicface. She is serene, that I know for sure. Her innocent disposition can fool anyone but me.

I open the glass doors leaning to the terrace. It is a Friday; the night is eternally young with celestialbodies adorning it. I imagine them recognizing me; those inanimate objects have once been ouraudience. I smile, lifting my hand and drawing forms with my fingers.

"What are you doing there?" Tasha sings, her voice with childish edge. I remain mum. She patters to thecarpeted floor and reaches me. She sets herself beside me.

"The sky is beautiful, isn't it?" I must. "Especially at night. Everything is hooded, shadowed, but still--"

"Don't go Shakespeare on me," Tasha groans. "I do not speak alien language," she plugs her fingers to

her ears and makes a silly face.

I brace myself for the beginning of this rigmarole. My mind forms a defense that will hopefully throw Tashaoff the loop. "Only to you. It is what they call literature. The art of using words to present the pulchritude ofone's thoughts. Shakespeare is not the only one who fills the history of this far-stretched subject. Thereare also--"

Tasha hushes me by placing a f inger over my lips. Her eyes are open of every thought she is holding atthe moment -- flippancy towards the topic and empathy (I like to believe it is anger) towards me. Yes, Isee her reflection of me in her eyes, and all I can read is her simmering hatred. Oh, the best actresshates me. No surprise there.

"Aurore," she cups my cheek, "You're a beautiful girl. Ridiculously gorgeous, actually. I appreciate your

acumen. You must be considered a genius. But if you want to have a man by your side, you must startbeing contemporary. Shakespeare, Dickens, Hugo, Austen, your heroes are long dead." Her hand slidesto my nape. "A man of true manly talent won't need a sacred savant hanging by his arm." She gives me awinning smile.

She leaves me, sparks of infuriation flying after her. Her touch tingles even in her departure. My chestheats up. Blood pumps hard in my extremities. Tasha is smart enough to go. If she were to stay for evena second longer, I might have flung her down this lodge. The demon's maiden really has impeccabletiming.

I fold my legs under me, not minding how cold or late it is. My head is throbbing. Tasha never fails to pushme on the edge. As much as I adore her witty remarks, she knows what I dislike and she uses it againstme. We pull each other's strings, not letting one to lead the race. Even in personal matters, the theory isapplicable. If only I can have her out of my life, I will joyously say 'Good riddance' -- to the woman whomanaged to have me both as an ally and enemy, to the bitch who plotted schemes for and against me, tothe friend who slyly but surely contributed to my ruination.

I need a drink.

---

"Flush that down your fucking mouth!" I hear an awfully loud voice. "Empty that bottle or I swear you'll bedrinking toilet water!" It is followed by glass hitting glass and the whooping of the other boys.


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The gentlemen have produced an unbelievable mess in the living room. Oh, they will not only get anearful from the administration. With the number of rules they are currently breaking, I will not be shockedif some of them gets kicked out.

Stealthily, I enter the kitchen. It is still spotless, thank heavens. The fridge has a few drinks -- lemons,soda, juice, some wine, gin, dry vermouth. Looks like they are really in for a party. I reach for the things Ineed and fix myself a serving or martini.

I thank my feel for being quick. Nobody has noticed my stay at the kitchen. I reach my room with a smilein my face, but it fades as I see someone lying on my floor.

Pierre noticed my arrival. "A-Au--"

I harshly grab his arm. "Get out." The warning is crystal clear, but Pierre shuts it like an empty threat. Hereaches for my ankle, causing me to spill the drink on him. Roughly, I kick his back.

"I said, get out, asshole." I shout. Fear envelopes me. Djvu is too strong to ignore. Pierre stands up. Ipush him out. My hands shake. Bad idea. He senses my fear. Catching me off guard, he wraps his armsaround me and buries his face in my neck. I am almost convulsing. I cannot move. I cannot speak.

Feeling his warmth against my own, it triggers the memory of that night.

His tears burn my shoulder. Something shouts in my head. If it were two years ago, I might havewhispered sweet nothings in his ear. But no, what is done is done. I fight the urge of falling on my knees.

"So-- Sorry, Aurore. I-- I c-cannot-- She--" He whimpers.

Fright has me in strangle hold, cuddling to the folds of my innards. My epiphany is a mantra in my head,'He has not been so strong'. I feel wetness in my own cheeks. That small iota of goodness I sense fromhim holds my tongue. It scares me -- being good to Pierre like he has never betrayed me scares the hellin me. All I can think of is, "Fuck, sooner or later, he will have you wrapped in his finger. Acquiesce to hischarm? Well, there is the drill: You end up naked in a room with hungry demons."

The door opens. Geoff sees our uncompromising position. Pierre is still holding on to me like a lifeline. Ilook away from Geoff's own anger and pity. The weight in my arm disappears; Pierre holds my hand andpleads, but I have the upper hand now.

When someone forms a dent in your l ife, you can easily camouflage it. The figure might be slightlydistorted, but it is still defined. Imperfect, but intact with its insignia of strength. My case with Pierre isdifferent. He has not dented me; with his hands, he has brought me to my destroyer. He has seen mydownfall with both his eyes. I have seen his hand twitch in anticipation when his master passed me tohim. I have been tainted with dirt from inferno because of his foolishness.

When I look at the door, it is Geoff's eyes that met mine. His jaw is locked. His face is not brushingPierre's hair. He holds him like trash. He removes his mask; I see him reliving that night. I shake my head,mist forming near my eyes once more. He nods, a sign that he will come back, before dragging Pierre out

of my sight.

For sure, both of us will not be somnolent tonight.

Nine

The first rays of run splashed through the parted curtains.


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I move to my right. Geoff is still in dreamland, his face void of last night's worries. I rest my hand on historso and lay my head on his left chest. His heartbeats are rhythmical and melodious, pulsating like thelullabies of yesteryears. My heart surges in pride.

He is mine. Never another woman's. Never Tasha's. Only mine.

My hands dance in his stomach. His heartbeat quickens a little. He wakens, but he keeps mum. I feel hisbreath caress my nape. He lowers his head and presses his lips on my neck. Once. Twice. Thrice. I movemy head and catch his next move.

"Good morning," I greet.

Geoff groans, "Ugh. Morning breath."

"Who? You or me?"

"You."

I slap his face. He gives me a devious smirk. He grips my wrist. I glare at him. He leans to my left andgrabs both my arms. I look up to him. His nose draws a lone on my neck down to my shoulder blades. My

hand weaves to his hair. He lifts his head. I turn my attention to him.

"Bad girl," he tucks a spare lock of hair behind my ear. He lies across my. I shiver. "Have you ever beenscared of me?"

"Yes," I say with conviction. "Especially last night. The look in your eyes was unnerving and exciting me atthe same time. It scared me a little, there goes my answer. But then, I liked it. I am really glad that youwear that look because of me."

His eyes swim of euphoria. His eyelids cover them as I kiss his forehead. His body relaxes atop mine. Heclutches to me. I weave my hands in his hair again. My heart leaps, feeling the fine texture of his maneagainst my chest.

"You scare me too, you know, he starts. "You scare me every single time we're together by the way youmake me feel." I nod in understanding.

Geoff and I are aware of the pedestal we are hanging on. It is worse than toppling over the scale of truth,in my opinion. The truth never has us on our neck; it is the other way around. We pay every kiss, everytouch, every gaze with public affection for another person. The sands of our hourglass trickle quickly,covering our nightly escapades. Geoff and I are not just specks of dust of the Earth; the world disagreeswith even an iota of recognition within us.

It is the reason why we have this secret.

Geoff tries to roll down the floor graciously. As he winces in pain, I laugh. He glares at me. "Won't youlend me a hand?"

"I think, no." I say sarcastically, jumping over him. I open my closet and scan my clothes. Too plain. Toodressy. Too formal. I sigh; my closet needs to be resuscitated. Geoff grabs me from behind and lifts meinto circles. I screech and punch -- punishment of the bloke for me; he stops, putting me down, but neverletting me go.

Geoff critically scans the wardrobe. "Wear this," he chooses a white dress.

"Purity doesn't suit me," I murmur.


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"The heavens are well-aware of everything about you," he unlatches himself from me. "Just like me, theyhaven't pushed you away."

---

Most of the campers area already in when we entered the small cathedral. My eyes wander to the pillars,the stained-glass windows, the lavishly adorned ceiling, the velvety floor. It is not a usual sight for Geoffand me, given that we are not Catholics.

We sit on the edge of the last pew, hoping to conceal our arrival. We immediately fall into silence. Geofflooks around and catches no one looking. He takes my hand. I accept his touch. Another argument isgiven birth inside me. There is the want and the need, both fighting for the same side while I stubbornlydigress the idea of closing the distance between Geoff and me. I want us to be homey, safe, and legal.The rush of thoughts enamors me; I remind myself of our agreement.

We have sworn to secrecy.

Jude looks back to us and waves a little. I nod to him. I am relieved he is not one to exaggerate, or Tashawill skin me alive right at this moment. The rest kneels down. We follow, hands still twined.

"What are you going to pray for?" He murmurs.

"For family. For friends. For the better half of me." His eyes light up. "You?"

"For the world and our arrival in it."

The others stand for the communion. We stay in the shadows, kneeling and wishing to God above. I havenot entered any sacrosanct place since the ordeal, until now. Before, it will only feel wrong -- to be underthe presence of the most omnipotent when everything in me is tattered. My eyes are still closed. Damsworth of burden and happiness threaten to break through the thin barrier. Geoff feels my distress. Hepulls me down and wraps his arms around me.

The heavens touch me. First, like a stranger in desperation. Then closer, softer, fuller, deeper. It floods

acceptance within me. I cry. I laugh. That day, I stain Geoff's dress shirt with tears.

"Go in peace," the priest blesses the crowd.

Geoff and I part ways after the mass. We will spend more time soon, I know. The arms of the night areopen for the needy. I exit through the side door, in search for solitude. I am greeted by the vast landscapebeyond the camp. There is the hill.

But atop the hill, just beside its only tree, is a man.

The figure is small but easy to catch. He is sitting casually on the wheelchair; the plaid cloth covering hislegs stand out against the greenery. He is facing my direction. Even from a distance, I can perceive theglint in his eyes and the smirk in his lips. He raises his hand.

My destroyer is waving at me.

Ten

I do not know how I propelled my legs. All I remember is running. All I remember is the blur.

My feet carry me to the other side of the church, down to the grounds, to the teacher's hall, to the lodges.


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Blood profusely pumps from my thundering heart. My soles ache; I remove my shoes and stand on theporch barefoot. Lunch break is on full swing inside; I use the back door to enter inconspicuously.

Tasha is there, busily cutting the raw fish. I cross the distance between us. I am yet to put my hand onher back when she faced me. Tasha takes my frazzled expression.

"What happened to you?" She cleans her hands. "You look like you ran a marathon." She gets a cleanpiece of tissue and wipes my sweaty face.

"Stop dilly-dallying," I push her arm. "Tell me, when did your brother arrive?"

Her expression changes slightly from concerned to smug. Too smug, I might say. "Really, he's here?" Hervoice is light though'.

"Yes, he is," another voice answers.

I cannot detect what emotions flooded in me when I heard that voice. Lustrous but sickly seductive, withan undertone of evilness. Tasha looks behind me and squeals like a kid on a Christmas morning. I refuseto turn around, but my head is pulled by a strong magnetic force. It is being drawn to the other side.

Tasha is hovering over a man on a wheelchair. Oh my god, my suspicion is correct. The hand of the mantouches Tasha's lower back, stalwart in my midst. Finally, he gazes up to me, amazed and ecstatic.

"My dear Aurore."

A tenor, a baritone, I cannot comprehend. The world goes topsy-turvy, the right all under the debris ofwrong. My face is a mask of calm and tolerance, but white-hot fear strikes my innards like waves of therolling seas. My knees wobble. My nape sweats coldly. There it is my head again, the brash entry, the hotbreath, the breaking of my saturnine purity.

"I am not yours," I assert. Thankfully, I still have control over my voice.

His hands move the wheels. "Remember the song, on my own, pretending he's beside me?" he sings. I

think of being enamored -- good gracious. He reaches for my open hand, but in a whiplash, my hands areoccupied by something small.

"Hello Ezra," Leema is there. "I'm sorry to interrupt your reunion. Aurore is just dearly needed outside."

I am out before Ezra could wave.

---

My hands have been full for the rest of the afternoon. Leema flows to the current of moving students oncewe are out in the open. I have not seen her since. The younger campers bombard me with inquiries assoon as they saw a strand of my hair.

I reach for the stairs. My hand grips the rails. Languidly, I lift my feet. One, two, I count. Sleep is all that isin my head. As I drag myself up, I see a set of feet, the left tapping itself on the wooden floor. My sensesheighten.

"Good to see you, Leema. It's nice of you--"

She takes my arm, dragging me to the nearest room -- her room, I recognize the flamboyant costumeshanging on the extra rack. "Silly brat, I thought you were a smart bitch who got everyone wrapped aroundyour little finger. Apparently, Ezra's immune to your charm."


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Anger jolts to my seams. "He is--"

"Whatever he's done on the past must have made you a fragile sap. Seriously? Freeze in front of thedecapitated bed king?"

I stop on my tracks. My eyes bore on Leema's face. She doesn't flinch. She doesn't babble. "You do notknow anything." I warn.

"I do," she confidently answers. "I was there to pick up pieces of you when he broke you like a piece ofshit"

I am sure no one can here, but I feel naked in front of an anticipating audience. The memoirs Ezraplanted in me -- the unmovable grips, the bleeding bruises, the forcible thrust. I still sense his filthy selfinside me, and it disgusts me.

I shudder. I am disgusted with myself.

The night of my ruination is still sharp in my thoughts. It was during the end of our sophomore year. Ezrawas courting me then; he was a senior with exceptional marks and charming personality. He was to beadored, but the night turned him to an unknown creature. He did touch my skin. He did lick my tears. He

did touch my breasts like gems. He possessed me; I was too innocent to prevail. Then help came, only asecond too late. A girl fixed me to bundles.

Leema was the girl.

"Don't fret. Geoff will come up with something," she assures.

"Why is he included in our conversation again?"

Leema hugs me. "Nothing gets past the little sister."

Eleven

The heavens are void of stars tonight. I wonder, sitting on the steps of the porch. It is a mind-blowing day,I must say. I rest my head between my legs; headache attacks.

I hear someone sit beside me. I see the bottle of liquor the person has at hand. I look beside me; Pierresits, his back ramrod straight.

"You look like you need a drink," he suggests. I shake my head.

"Drinks and headache don't work together," I mutter angrily. He senses my rage.

"Look, I am here to apologize--"

"No need. Who gives a fuck about last night? You almost got me!" I stand. His stare remains pensive.

"That's why listen!" He stands too. His hands trap my face. His touch is hot, the alcohol beginning to workin his system. "I'm sorry, Aurore!"

I freeze. Pierre never scolds anyone. Yes, he is the typical cuss-all-he-want boy who does fist fights andwrestling matches to people daring him. He keeps his jovial charade. For the second time in my life,Pierre scared me.


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He notices my expression. His expression changes to alarmed. Pierre suddenly hugs me -- a civil hug. Icannot push him. I cannot lash out my anger. He hugs me, like a father hugs her daughter when he seesher cry.

"Damn it. He is going to kill me for this," Pierre murmurs. He buries his nose in my hair. A chill runs downmy spine.

Geoff, where are you?

"I'm sorry-- Oh my god, I'm sorry Aurore." He says, again and again. I panic. I cannot relax. Pierre feelsmy stiffness; he reaches for my hand. The heavens know how long I wished for this before. But Pierrehad sold me to the devil.

"Aurore, I am sorry." His voice breaks. My hands unclench. Oh, the deities! I wrap my arms around hisneck.

Bejesus, what in the world is going on? I want to call Geoff. I want to wrap him in my arms and shag himsenseless. I want him to cleanse me from Pierre's touch.

I can't.

"Enough," I hear someone from the shadows.

Geoff is there, sullen and composed. His gaze is with Pierre's. I want him to look at me and tell me thosesacred words, but he refuses to give me his attention. Pierre sniffs.

"Man, I'm a dead meat, ain't I?" Pierre asks. Geoff shakes his head.

"I don't fight my friends. I just try to let them correct their mistakes on their own." Geoff explains. Pierremoves to him. They high-five, Pierre with his comical wet smile, and Geoff with his charming one.

"Boy's night?" Pierre inquires. Geoff nods. Pierre looks back to me.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He returns to his former place and kisses my forehead. Geoff leads their way, noteven giving me a glance.

Did I just hit two birds with one stone?

Twelve

"You know what to do."

Beep. Click.

"You know what to do."

Beep. Click.

"You know what to--"

I toss the phone to the bed. Fury is an understatement. I am beyond angry. Beyond rationality. I am tired,enraged, and scared.

Geoff isn't even giving me a second of his night.


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I am not his shadow. I know they are having their night, but Geoff is not that typical overly-excited-to-bust-my-kidneys guy. He is not a drunkard, a drug addict, or a member of any fraternity. Geoff is Geoff; uniqueand special in his own way.

I fall back to my bed. I promise not to dwell in one's emotions; they are mere temptations to get youwhacked and drowned to misery and tears. Life philosophy. I close my eyes, clearing my head of tonight'sworries. No fights. No glares. Geoff is smiling in my head; it is all it took to win my heart.

The clock sounds. It is 12 o'clock. I wrap the blanket around me. I am scared of tomorrow.

I wish they could have rescheduled their boy's night.

---

Rehearsals start by nine.

The crew is on its knees, fixing and installing props. The cast are lying on their backs, probably sleepingon stage. I place my bag on the front row and jump onstage.

"Right on the dot," Pierre sees me. I smile a little. I am not in the mood to see someone connected to lastnight.

"Sleep is better than wasting my time for some nonsense activity." I explain.

"Relaxation is a must for better work quality." Another person answers. Ezra stands there, no trace ofweakness in his face. He looks good; no, not good. He is handsome. Unbelievably and demonicallyhandsome.

Ezra claps his hand. "All rise." The other cast members follow. I see no Geoff. Tasha sneaks through thevelvet drapes.

I am about to walk briskly to her place when a hand stops me. "We'll be starting, my lady." Ezra's mouth is

right atop my ear. Even with a mere millimeter or two to suffice, I can sense his want to graze his tonguein my skin.

I turn to the other side. Pierre looks at me, shocked. I almost raise my middle finger. Of all the fuckeriesthat I must go through after a disastrous night.

"Alright. Let's divide ourselves into groups. Just freely memorized or read the lines. Let's see what we cando." Ezra claps his hands again. "Now, scram!" They move away. He faces me. "As for you, young lady,you'll be rehearsing with me."

"I am very much aware of who I am paired with." I snap. "Since he's not yet around, I guess I'll use thetime to unwind."

Ezra laughs. He flicks a lock of my hair. I shudder. "I co-direct this, love. I am the rule."

Pierre appears beside him. I catch his look, pleading and a bit scared. Pierre is never scared, except forEzra. His master. His ally. His role model. What a nice choice for someone to look up to, Pierre. You arereally screwed.

The three of us transfer in the middle of the stage. I fold my legs beneath me and look down. "Oh tehstars, how I envy them of their light! The beauty, oh the beauty of shining like diamonds!" I say.

Someone walks behind. Ezra. I brace myself. "You are more beautiful than the heavens, my lady. You're


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the epitome of them all." He places a hand on my shoulder. Our first real physical contact. I almost jump.

We face each other. I remember the last time we were this close, long ago. I smell his breath. I am boredby his stare. Once upon a time, Ezra enamored me. Now, he only disgusts me.

He closes the distance between us. One, two. I count. I stop to breath. I once longed for his kisses; now, Iabhor them. One touch, and I will forever want to cut my lips off my face.

"I think the wrong prince is playing the role."

Geoff arrives.

Thirteen

Ezra sneers.

I breathe easily again. Geoff grabs my shoulder and pushes me back. Ezra looks intently at me, like aseriously hungry carnivore ready to bite the life off of me. It seems like everyone has their eyes on us, but

only Pierre, Leema, and Tasha are there.

"I was supposed to get the kiss of my life, Romanov," Ezra playfully punches Geoff's shoulder. Playful,but his eyes show his thirst to tear him to bits.

"Dream on, Somier," Geoff rolls his eyes. He takes my hand. "I think we should go now. Do some realpracticing," he suggests. I sense Tasha's eyes on me, piercing and calculating. Yes, we are far fromdone.

"Do not exhaust the lady, alright?" He closes the distance between us. His finger traces a line on my leg,pushing back a lock on my hair. "We still have games to play,"

The tension thickens. I catch Ezra's eye, glinting and mischievous. Games huh? I try to charm him --

winning smile at gooey eyes. A touch of reverse psychology, maybe. I give him what he wants, so he willlong for more. I will not help satiate his thirst. I will dangle the meat in his face until he can take it no more.

I peck his lips.

"Yes," my breath fans on his face, "games to play."

---

The walk to the backstage is dragging and quick at the same time. It is nice to be with Geoff again,despite my whining last night. The stunt I pulled a while ago has boosted my confidence a few notcheshigher. It has not helped lighten Geoff's mood, though'.

We stop on the costume workroom. Most of the crew is outside, getting measurements and buyingmaterials. As soon as we are in, Leema locks the door. I can tell she is right on the other side. Geoff isthat obsessive of safety.

He does not look at me. I am not trying to look at him either. Thoughts rush in my head; I need to say a lotof things. Or rather, I want to say a lot of things. Silence between us is never wrong; now, I feel this urgeto scream. Anything, just to break the ice.

"Look--" I breathe deeply. "Can we talk? I mean seriously talk, not me babbling all I want and youbrooding on the corner," I move to where he stands. His knuckles are white and stiff. I touch them. "Come


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on, Geoff."

Suddenly, I am wrapped in a hug. I smell Geoff from within. I close my eyes. It is what I needed, lastnight. It is what I still needed, up to this time. "Sorry for being a snob to you last night. It's just-- Ugh. Howdo I explain it?" He runs his hand in his hair, "It's eating me, you know. The jealousy. God, I sound funny.I want you to reconcile with Pierre. The same time, I do not want you to entertain his advances."

I laugh a little. It is shakier than I expected. "I never liked Pierre. Sure, I flirt with him, but I never likedhim." I reach for his lips, but Geoff backs off.

"I don't want to indirectly kiss Ezra."

I have almost forgotten about it. I groan, frantically searching for a source of running water. There is asink on the far-end of the room. I gurgle twice and wash my face.

Geoff's face is unreadable, like he is struggling on whether to slap me or not. His hands are flexing, I amsure. "You hate me now, don't you?" I walk slowly to him. "You hate me for acting on my will."

Geoff shakes his head. "No." He cups my face. "No. Don't even think." He buries his face on my hair. "Ican't hate and love you at the same time. It will rip me apart to feel both at the same time."

Our temples touch. "I can only love you now. I know I do love you now."

We kiss. Once. Twice. He sits me atop one of the tables. He leans in. I lean back. I feel his naked back.He feels my naked stomach. The tension breaks. We let the unspoken words consume us. We yield toour desires.

There is a knock on the door.

Irritatingly, I stand. Geoff whispers, "Tonight." I fix my hair and clothes. I open the door. Leema looksindifferent, but her eyes are dancing. "Done with your practice?"

I smile, knowing the double meaning behind her words. "Yes. I think we're prepared for the real deal."

Fourteen

The next few hours are a drag. With the jealousy problem off our backs, Geoff and I are back to oursystematic selves.

Ezra and Tasha are not pleased with it. I know they are looking. Can't rid their eyes from us. Tasha isalways near Leema, who -- God bless her -- volunteered to assist us. We have been having a good time,but villains know how to dampen the moment. Funny how we consider them as villains when we're theones planning their ruination.

Lunch time arrives. Geoff and I part ways so not to raise suspicion. Leema loops her arm to my right. Isee her drop something on the loose pocket of my shirt.

"Burn it," she says before galloping to the other side of the room. As soon as she's out of earshot, Tashafalls into step alongside me.

"My brother's losing his touch in directing," Tasha shakes her head. Losing his touch in directing, ormolesting?

"He hasn't been a part of any production for quite some time, so give him some slack." I pat her shoulder.


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"What's he up to these past few months?"

Tasha turns pale. A first, I must say. "He's juggling university workload. Can't believe the things theydump on him. I probably won't survive if I were in his shoes." She rambles on. University work? Stopbeating around the bush, Tasha. I bet your brother has got chicks on his bed back in his dorm.

"Come on, it can't be that bad." I nudge again.

Tasha shakes her head. "Not for you, miss know-it-all." I believe she's quoting the last part of herstatement. We face each other.

Despite the pale look in her face, Tasha exudes an air of danger in her. Her eyes, light and twinkling, areshadowed with something sinister. As always. I hear a little tremble in her voice, but Tasha will not giveaway hints of her feelings anymore.

"I think you're addressing yourself," I answer nonchalantly. Tasha laughs and waves her hand.

"Oh please. Do not deny it. You don't wear lying beautifully." She bites.

"If I don't, you should have bursted on me on the day we became friends." I retort.

She draws a line on my jaw. "I know who you really are, Aurore." She says with a sweet voice. "You're thetrickiest fairytale princess I've ever met." Her face is back to its solemn state.

"And you're the best backstabbing friend who came to my life."

Tasha's head leans to the side. "I've done it for you and Ezra. Don't tell me I have not heard of ourfantasies about him. I did something for your benefit."

I whisper and sneer. "Asking your brother to rape your friend is a good thing?"

Tasha taps my head. "All is fair in love and war."

---

The evening has come quick. As the other campers dash to the mess hall, I hide from them and sneak tothe forest.

It is not really a hazardous place. There are no reported apparitions or dangerous creatures. The darkmust be responsible for the creeps, I guess. I am not meant for the night; I may be vicious, but the darkholds memories I want to ignore.

I easily see the place. The bonfire is on, flaming with tongues of orange and blue. Not a soul is around. Ithrow the paper Leema gave to me. I watch as the fire eats it.

I hear him coming. He sits beside me. I reach for his hand. He presses mine. I lay my head in his

shoulder.

"Can we not come back until the morning?" I ask. He nods. He passes a bottle of juice to me.

"You looked pensive. What's the matter?"

I shrug. Of course, he will know there's a problem. We are open books with each other. "I.. I feel tired.Ezra, Tasha. It's too much for a day." I look up to him. "Do you know he's coming?"

He nods. "Yes. That's why I made a way for you and Pierre to reconcile. It's not thoughtful of me, but it's


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the only way to save ourselves from their plans." He outs his arms around my shoulders. "Leema will notalways be there to help."

"I can handle myself, thank you very much."

"Old habits die hard." We smile. He shares a plate of chicken teriyaki with me. He reveals the bread. Wefeast.

"Ezra's arrival complicates the plan." He reminds me.

"We go on." I stab on the piece. "I am not afraid of him. The games he played with me." I roll my eyes.

Geoff's face darkens. In the moonlight, he looks ready to attack. I touch his face. What a worrywart, butthat is how we work. I am reckless; he studies every move before touching a piece. He worries aboutrepercussions; I am spontaneous. I play tricks; he twists minds.

We are one sickly-minded couple, but that is the way we love each other. It is the only way we know.

"I did not kiss him because I want to." I reason out.

"I know."

"But you're holding your Swiss knife that way." I point his hands. He is ready to stab. Geoff realizes it andlets the material go.

"Just-- Ugh. The horror! Just don't kiss him again!" He blasts. I laugh heartily. Too soon, the food's off mylap. Geoff roars.

We play around. I run. I collide with the log. I nearly trip. Good thing I have not eaten a lot. Geoff isfeigning weakness. He sits. I inch a little closer to him. He pulls me down.

I gaze on his nicely chiseled face.

He reaches for my hands. He cups them to his face. Languidly, I trace the slope that defines his features.My hand brushes his forehead, his cheek, his nose, his lips. Mine turns to a lopsided grin.

I pull myself to him. My hands encase his neck as his hands wrap around my waist. I straddle to himbefore diving to the pool of ecstasy.

Lurid. Passionate. I am left mute. The dance is a myriad of waltz, tango, salsa. I plant my kisses on hisjawline, to his throat, to his neck, to the arch of his broad shoulders.

Reaching for the pitcher of water, I douse the bonfire. He lies back, pulling me with him. I rest my head onhis chest. He hums, lulling me to sleep.

I hope tonight will not steer us quickly to daybreak.

Fifteen

I have only had a few minutes of solitude before the young campers barged in my life with their overlyenthusiastic faces.

They hurdled in front of the lodge. Goodness, how am I able to return here? I remember staying in theforest, cuddling against Geoff's chest under the sheets. We must have groggily returned around dawn.


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With the way we had looked, no one will be suspicious. We are not strangers; we have messed uprepeatedly before.

The door behind me opens. Jude stands beside me, an irritably wide grin plastered in his face. He passesa cup of hot chocolate to me. Smiling hungrily, I empty the contents of the mug.

"We're working together today. You're supposed to be paired with Geoff, but the big man threw a fit whenwe woke him up. Doesn't smell of liquor, but he acts like he's got hangover." He pauses for effect. "Onemore kick and I'll pour a bucket of ice in him! Good thing Pierre shooed me. Pierre, good guy, though' he'sbeen shaking since Ezra--"

"What did Ezra do?" My senses can surely pick up even a speck of that devil.

"Nothing brash, really. He just asked him if they can be partners for today. Stared at Pierre with a smirk,or was that a sneer?" Jude scratches the back of his head. "Ezra isn't so bad." He mumbles before facingthe kids. "Line up!"

Ezra isn't so bad? What in the world has gotten in your head, Jude? I want to grab his hair and dunk hishead on the nearest toilet bowl, but that will be out of character for me. Placing the mug down the coffeetable, I follow Jude.

"Will I need something for the cold?" I shout over the murmuring of the kids. Jude shakes his head.

"That'll be good." He ushers us to follow.

I tag behind the last kid in the line. I have no idea on what we are going to do today. I have only taken anap on the couch, but remembering the presence of Ezra a few floors above me, I have decided to just fillmy stomach. Now this. I have no idea on where Jude will bring us.

It is not that Jude is bad. Jude is the funny guy in our circle -- Tasha, Pierre, Geoff, Jude, and I, that is.But fun is not always a part of our system. Nobody is smart enough to get past the masks we have longbeen wearing.

Jude leads us to the edge of the Amazing Race field. It is in the forest; the path is cleared for the youngcampers to see well. Jude motions them to go first. With hands on the shoulders of the man in front ofthem, the kids saunter deeper to the field.

Jude falls into step beside me. We walk quietly, the soles of our boots brushing the wet soil and decayingleaves. Something hangs atop our heads. Jude is never really silent; he bursts every now and then. I risksneaking a peek on his face; his mouth is set to a line.

"Anything wrong?" I ask, my hands fumbling in my pockets. Jude shakes his head.

"Are you sure?" I place my palm in his neck, and then to his forehead. He pushes my hands away. Hismouth does not quiver; maybe he does not want to talk about it. I nod to myself. "I'll leave you first tothink."

I step away from him, to the direction of the kids, when his thin hands slither on my wrist. His eyes are onmy face, blazing with a different sort of fire. When have I first seen that fire? I think hard; yes, it is inGeoff, during the night of my salvation, that I first saw it. Does this mean--

"I know you're keeping something from me. From us." He begins with a whisper; I have to move closer tohear clearly. "I know you have a secret, and a big one, that is."

"Everyone has secrets." I reply. "It is not like I have to spout about everything in my life to you. We haveprivacies to respect."


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"I have ignored this nasty tugging feeling in my gut for a long time now. I have a strong feeling that we'reinvolved. The gang, I mean." Jude rambles on.

"It's better for you to stay away."

"We've been staying away for a long time now." Jude takes my arms and shakes me. I stare at him indisbelief. Jude is livid and scared; I see it in his eyes. "Why can't you just say it?!"

I tug my arms away from his hold, and then I have done the impossible: I have slapped Jude with all thestrength I can muster.

We are stunned for a long time. I have slapped him, it has repeated like a mantra in my mind. I ball myfist, facing the side. "Do not make me hurt you intentionally, Jude. I have done a lot of things that will hurtyou in the future." I choke back a sob. He sees me.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes, growling in frustration. "I'm sorry. Fuck. It's out of the line. Gah!" He hits thenearest tree. I catch his sore hand. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He cups my face. I bite my lip as tears begin tofall. Bloody hell, this is embarrassing.

"It's okay, you didn't mean it." I wipe my face. "Goodness, I am a mess."

He laughs at me. The tension breaks. We are bipolar, aren't we? Two messed-up friends, fighting forsomething that will never be won, their problem is resolved by laughter. I must be insane.

We breathe. We laugh. We hold on to each other. We see the kids on the playpen, unaware of the dramawe have caused. I pull away from Jude. "Let's get them now for the real deal. They'll be suspicious."

I lead the way, Jude lagging behind. Secrets, how ruinous they can be. How many problems will it bringme yet? How many people will I hurt? How many people will hate me in the end? I will never know. I willnever mind. Before crossing the bush separating us from the kids, Jude places a hand on my shoulder.

"We'll still be friends until the end." He insists before shouting himself hoarse.

There will always be something beyond the end, and by then, I know you will curse me to hell, Jude. Ienter the playpen to listen to our activity.

Sixteen

"I don't know how you do it. One second, you're a drama queen, then the next, you're laughing like ahyena," Lemma pokes my side. "You're not insane, are you?"

"It's pure talent, hun." I grab a grape, popping it to my mouth. "Believe me when I say that talent won'tcarry you halfway down the road."

The sun hangs with its orange glory in the midst of the rolling clouds. I lean back to the grass. The dayhas been uneventful, save for the Jude's sudden outburst this morning. Everyone has been lying low. Iam yet to see a shadow of the other leaders.

Leema passes the plate of grapes to me. I gobble them in two's.

"Jude won't hate you. Won't even dare to cross you, I bet," Leema comments. "He might fool around withthe kids, but he is no fool."


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24 Lit

"I know." I have seen the guy work on his prowess, academically speaking. Jude is exceptionalmathematically, a genius. He is never a show-off to be hated, but with the way he acts, nobody treats himseriously.

"But is he perceptive enough?" Leema wonders.

My eyes stray to the edge of the edge of the field. Two figures have their heads huddled together. Theyare glancing at us every so often. I face Leema.

"Maybe?" I pop another grape to my mouth. "I'll never know. Tasha is usually the voice of the gang, whilePierre acts as the brains."

"Speaking of the devil." Leema's eye shift to something approaching from behind me. I see her, and I seesomething beyond the little lass who acts as her brother's accomplice. There is a different shine in her,like someone lighting a candle within her.

Leema is in love. With whom? I roll back. The most unbelievable thing.

Pierre is a few feet from our lying bodies.

I am torn between laughing my ass off and staying still with my eyes hanging in its socket. Monstrosity?Delirium? Joke? I cannot believe my eyes. I look back to Leema. She is not staring at Pierre with goo-gooeyes, but her smile is unmistakable? Geoff! Has he known about this?

"Hello girls." Pierre quietly greets. I jump up from my seat.

"Hello." I answer. Leema smiles a bit too widely.

Pierre's eyes shifts from Leema to me. Gone is the happy disposition in his face from seeing Leema,obviously. It is mildly tainted with hesitation.

"Can we talk?" I nod. Leema shoos us, giving me a thumbs-up.

We walk a few meters from where Leema is. I look around; the coast is clear. Pierre stays confident, likehe usually is. The last time I saw him confident is during our private practice; it is a nasty picture.

"Talk." I command. His hands clench and unclench.

"I want to tell you that from now on, I will stop running after you." He says with conviction. "I won't chaseyou anymore."

It has not hit me with a shock. I am not stupid; a few seconds and I am able to figure out the connectionbetween them. A flood of relief washes in me; finally, I am free of one shackle.

"Okay. That's brilliant." I say happily. "Have a nice life."

"Won't you ask me why I'm stopping?"

I raise my eyebrow. "I do not take interest on things easily. I thought you knew me well, Pierre."

He gulps. "Well. We're friends, again. I thought you'll care, even just for a bit."

Skeptically, I look at Pierre. He may appear a bit frightened now, but contentment is underlyingsomewhere. It is Leema, I tell myself. She knows how to handle herself, and maybe Pierre for that matter.

"Just don't break her heart, or you'll have to answer to me."


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I wink, leaving him rooted there with a silly grin.

---

It is another field night.

The punch is being scooped in cups (or even tumblers). Biscuits crumbs are littering the table. Chocolatepieces are being tossed around. I grab the nearest plate and fill it with biscuits and chocolates of all sorts.I feel my mouth watering at the sight of all these magnificent food.

"Have you heard--?"

"Ezra collapsed during practice this afternoon?"

"Are you sure?"

"Never been so sure. Tasha looks like she's about to faint too."

My ears pick up the latest dish in gossip town. I do not spare them a look, knowing that they will ask me.

Oh, they cannot keep their holes shut about preposterous inquiries.

On the edge of the porch, they sit together, eating to their heart's content. Pierre and Jude are buildingchocolate bridges and biscuit monuments, while Leema and Geoff toss stuff in it. I approach, sitting downbetween the siblings.

"Eiffel Tower?" I try to look amazed to the slim pyramidal-like biscuit building. Jude grins.

"Yes, our masterpiece." He and Pierre bows.

"I know it! With the crooked shebang and all ." With that, I receive a batch of flying biscuits.

"Seriously, can we be more empathic?" Geoff tells us over the deafening noise. The speakers are on.

"Empathic? Dude, we're facing our masters. No one says no to food." Pierre regards.

"What's the matter?" I inquire. Leema smacks her forehead.

"Don't you know? Didn't Tasha message you?"

"No. Why?'

"Ezra--"

It is enough to bring me to my feet.

"Whoa whoa. Easy, cowgirl." Jude pushes me down to my seat. "He's fine. Just dizzy. Too tired ofwalking. Man, his legs.."

"I promise to never let my eyes waver when I get my hands on Dad's car."

Ezra's disability. Yes, how can I forget? He has forever complained about being easily tired. He hasneglected the signs; stupid prat. All this time, I know what is wrong. All this time, I know his weakness. Isthat the reason why I have let him take over me nighttimes ago? No, definitely not. It is his strength, thesurging energy in him. It is as if he has laid his final straw. How can I miss it?


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How can I forget the fact that Ezra's dying?

"Where are you going?" Geoff asks worriedly.

"I need to see Tasha."

Seventeen

The infirmary is located three blocks from the lodge. We can easily get in, because we are campcounselors and all, but those things are off my mind. Right now, my mind is clouded with worry -- worryfor a person who does not deserve it.

I don't like feeling uncomfortable and scared for Ezra. God knows I will stop at nothing to make his lifemiserable, but there is some tugging in my chest, like a switch being flipped on and off whenever he isaround.

In one way or another, I still feel for Ezra. I just don't know what I feel about him.

"Where's Dauns?" I ask the nurse. She looks at me with sad eyes. Goodness, I hate that look. It makesme squirm.

"First room. Private," she points to the left.

My feet carry me as fast as it could. My eyes are not prickling; they will not shed tears. They have shedenough tears for Ezra. Bastard, always has the power to trigger my tears.

He is laying a bit too stiffly on the cot, the blanket positioned up to his shoulders. He is breathing a bit tooquickly for someone who is at rest. I snort, drawing the curtains down.

"You can stop faking sleep."

"You can walk silently."

Ezra has his eyes open. I remain where I stand. No "I came as soon as I heard", though it is whathappened. No "I am so worried, I think I'll be sick" too, as it will be so out of character for me. I am not aworrier; nobody can withstand my indifference.

Minutes pass. Ezra winces. I glance at him. He reaches for a pillow. "Will you end my suffering?"

I laugh bitterly. I close the distance between us, my sneakers squeaking on the white vinyl tiles. I see hisface, serene despite the inner pain I am sure he is going through."Why must I end your suffering? Youdeserve it."

"I forgot who I am talking to," Ezra sighs. "If I ask Tasha to do it, she will. I'll be in the stars now."

"Tasha does not think before she acts."

"I know."

There is an uneasy air that hung above us. My hands itch, wanting to reach out for something. My gazedrops on Ezras thin fingers, so child-like in comparison to what he really is. Reluctantly, I place my handatop his.

Ezra gasps, but he does not pull it away. He flips his hand and hooks his fingers on the spaces of mine. It


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27 Lit

feels foreign, yet so familiar. Just like how I feel for him -- I hate him, yet I still care. I badly care.

"I am tired," he closes his eyes.

"So let go."

"I can only let go if you want me to let go."

There he is again, being considerable of what I feel. There is he again, being his real self, not moving onbecause there is a part of him that attaches him to this world. I let him see what I want him to see;acceptance, care, forgiveness...

"Let me go, Ezra."

He smiles that special smile, the one he used to give to me when our relationship is still unlabeled, whenwe are still us. My heart skips a beat. Ezra unlatches something from his necklace. It is of a simple blackband. He places it in my hand; I am surprised by its familiarity.

"If I don't return, you know where to find me."

I press his hand before letting go. Possibly forever.

Epilogue

Surrendersurrender / [ s rndr ]

(v.) declare yourself defeated; give up possession of something; give something out of courtesy; give selfup to something; abandon rights to something

(n.) giving up fight; giving up control

(syn.) yield

-

Here I am, standing in front of a multitude of expectants, waiting for me to deliver the next words.

"Infinite, my love. My love for you is infinite," I caress his face. His lips break to a smile that can bring mywhole world to knees. I have lost myself there.

I crush my lips into him, channeling to him my utmost feelings. This is it. This is what I am wishing for. Iwant the world to know how much I feel for this man.

There has been a time when the world is a blank parchment. No stains. No blotches. Then God hasarrived from His kingdom, showering this isolated habitat with the beautiful thing called Life. But this placehe designed is not His all. He knows there is much for the world to have.

He has given it Man to be responsible over the other creatures. But Man alone is incomplete, hence thecreation of Woman. With the two, there is a sensation that cannot be denied. Not in eons. Not in eternity.

With Man and Woman, there is Love.


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So maybe this is love. This clichd scenario we are in is love. Yet, even if the world criticizes us for oursecrets and our deeds, we shall care no more. Love is ample for us.

"I love you Aurore," Geoff whispers. The curtains have been dropped. The applause is thundering,shaking the foundations of the venue. I hear the catcalls. I hear the anticipation. I hear the joyous reactionof our colleagues. But they are in the depths of our thoughts.

"I love you too, Geoff."

Tonight, we govern each other's hearts.

-

Across the country, away from the celebrating crowd, a body struggles for its final show.

He sees the clock. A few minutes after nine. It is almost time. He feels it, the last trickle of life visiting thewithering veins under his thin skin. He takes a deep breath. The air smells of roses.

The air smells of her.

For the last time, something in his stomach flutters. His hand flies to his chest, just above that weak littlething that keeps him alive. Only a matter of seconds--

There is the quick flash of events, but he watches them like it is a normally played movie. She is there, inevery picture, in every turn. He, the other guy, is also there. Sometimes he smiles at her. Sometimes shesmiles at him too. Then his smiles lessen, while hers frequent.

The last memory is the sharpest. He, as in him now, touches every bare skin he can see. He enters; theangels in heaven sing. She screams, but it is a lullaby to him, slowly loosening the muscles in his broadback. She cries. He feels the warmth of saltwater. That saltwater is distinguished as representations of

joy. He laughs heartily. He never hears her pleas.

Then there is nothing. It is merely taking a breath, and then nothing follows. Not even a beat. Not even a

rush of blood.

Across the country, when the curtains are dropped, Ezra Dauns bows his final bow.

lit complete, compiled)

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